#my hip hurts so much. but I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.
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voidofsunlight · 1 day ago
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THEODORE NOTT SMUT
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You don’t even remember what upset you. Not now. Not with Theodore Nott between your legs, tongue slow and starving. Your back’s pressed into the mattress, thighs trembling around his head—and he’s not just licking. He’s drinking from you like it’s holy.
Every groan from his throat sends shocks up your spine, and he doesn’t come up for air. Not once.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he rasps against your clit, his breath hot, his mouth slick and soaked. “Sweet little thing… all this for me?”
One hand hold your hip while the other grips your thigh, spreading you wider, pulling you to his mouth even more like he needs to be closer, needs to feel every twitch and spasm of your body under his tongue. When you whimper, he vibrates with it—moaning like your pleasure’s the only thing keeping him alive.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice low, tender, and cocky all at once. “Poor girl… such a hard day, huh? Let me take it. Let me fucking erase it.”
Then he sucks—slow, focused, tongue flicking devastatingly right—and your orgasm hits like a crashing wave. You cry out, body arching, but he doesn’t stop. Not even a breath. His mouth stays locked, hungry, his tongue chasing every pulse of your high like he’s starving for it.
“That’s it,” he whispers, lips brushing your thigh. “Come for me again. I want it. I need it.”
He slides two fingers inside you—deep, curling perfectly—and you don’t even have time to warn him before you’re coming again, sharp and loud and blinding.
That’s when he loses it.
He groans, low and guttural, and goes feral. His tongue returns to your clit with ruthless precision, while his fingers fuck you slow and deep, like he’s dragging every drop of pain, every ounce of tension, right out of you.
“So wet,” he pants, licking through your slick with reverence. “You’re making such a mess for me... Ti adoro, amore mio. I fucking adore you.”
Your thighs tremble, trying to close—overstimulated, twitching—but he only bites you softly, locking you open with a grip that feels possessive. Like he owns you. Like he needs to watch you come.
“Shhh, bella… don’t fight it,” he coos, kissing your clit like a lover, tongue gentle now, but fingers still pumping slow, hard, deep. “I’m taking care of you. Nothing else matters now. Just this. Just you.”
He moans again, head shaking in disbelief, eyes glazed as he stares at your dripping cunt like it’s paradise.
“I could live here,” he says to himself, dazed. “Right here. Between your thighs. Mio dio… I’d die happy if I got to taste you every day.”
You’re floating. Mind fuzzy. Everything that hurt is gone—burned out of you—and it’s all him. All Theodore. His lips, his fingers, his voice.
He kisses your clit again—then again, harder—and your whole body jolts. It’s too much. And yet, never enough.
“Again,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “You’re not done. I want everything you’ve got. Every fucking orgasm I can pull from you. I’m not stopping ‘til you forget everything but me.”
Your third orgasm crashes like a tidal wave, a sob ripping from your chest—and he moans into your pussy like he’s tasting divinity, like your pleasure is the only thing keeping his heart beating.
“That’s it, amore mio,” he groans. “Give it to me.”
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. His tongue is back on your clit, messy, focused, obscene. His fingers move with sinful precision, curling inside your soaked pussy like he knows your body better than you do. You’re trembling, crying, gasping his name like a prayer, and he just watches.
Drinking you in like you’re art—his art.
“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he whispers, lips brushing your clit. “So perfect. Let go for me. Just feel how I love you.”
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PLEASE DO NOT COPY / TRANSLATE OR REPOST AS YOUR OWN!
©Voidofsunlight
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jaesblogstuff · 12 days ago
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He Doesn’t Speak Until You’re Holding Him Again
He channels his emotions through you (literally). I'm sorry its kinda long.
He left again. You didn’t text. Didn’t call. The silence was a wound, and you let it bleed. Because this wasn’t new—not really. Knew what it meant when Simon disappeared. It meant he was scared.
Not of you, but of what loving you was turning him into. Of the parts of himself he thought had been long buried coming alive again. Softness. Need. Hope.
The first time, you thought you’d done something wrong. The second time, you begged him. Just tell me next time. Let me know you’re okay. And still… this time, no word. Just the echo of his absence.
So when the door opened five days later, and he stepped in like he’d never left—eyes bloodshot, hands clenched—you didn’t shout. Didn’t cry. You just stood there, heart hammering. And he looked at you like he didn’t deserve to be looked at at all.
You let him in. Like you always do. And now...now he’s inside you.
You’re in his lap, knees spread wide, body molded to his. You’re facing him, straddling him on the edge of the bed, his cock seated so deep you swear you can’t breathe right. His hands are on your hips—holding, not guiding. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he doesn’t keep you anchored there.
Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, and your forehead is pressed to his. He hasn’t moved in a while. Just breathing. Just there.
You’re soaked. You’ve been like this for minutes—no thrusting, just the feel of him. Heavy and deep and so close it’s maddening. Every nerve in your body tightens with the way he holds you—gentle, but solid. There’s reverence in it. Restraint.
He shakes once. A breath, stuttering from his lips. Then, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The words ghost out of him like a secret. Not really meant for you, but said anyway. You want to respond. Your lips part. But you stop. You don’t say anything.
Because you know. This is how it works. He needs to get it out and you need to let him. He exhales slowly, nostrils flaring. His hands flex on your hips. And then—
“I’ve never… wanted someone like this.” His voice is hoarse. Raw. “Not even close.”
You try to stay still. Try to hold on to the control he’s trusting you with. But your hips shift, barely, and the drag of his cock inside you punches the air from your lungs. Your fingers tighten on the back of his neck, and you clench around him hard enough he groans—quiet, but guttural.
He thrusts—once. Deep. Slow. And it hits everything.
“I thought,” he says, breath ragged, “if I stayed gone long enough… the need would go away.”
Your jaw tenses. Your eyes burn. He moves again, sliding out so slow it feels like a tease, like punishment, and then pushing back in just as carefully. You bite your lip. Hard.
“I missed you like I’d lost a limb.” His voice breaks on it. “And it scared the fuck out of me.”
You can’t help it—you whimper. Soft, but it splits the air between you. He trembles beneath you like the sound undid something inside him.
Your head drops to his shoulder. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.
“I’ve never made love before,” he whispers. “Not like this. Never wanted to. Never thought I’d get the chance.”
Your breath hitches—words bubbling up in your chest. “Simon—”
“No.” He cuts you off, but not harshly. His mouth finds yours. Kisses you soft. Slow. Tongue barely brushing. “Let me… let me say it before it eats me alive.”
You nod. You don’t trust yourself to speak again.
He rolls his hips. Slow. So unbearably slow it hurts. Your body clenches without permission, and your nails bite into his shoulders.
He doesn’t stop. “I’m scared every time I touch you,” he says, breath trembling.
You moan. Quiet. A sob in disguise. He feels it—feels your body tighten again and holds you through it, arms wrapping tighter around your waist.
“Not because I don’t want to… but because I do.” Another thrust—long and deep, dragging over every place that lights your nerves. “So much it makes my hands shake.”
They are. Shaking. One of his hands slides up your spine, broad palm stroking over the back of your shirt, grounding you.
“I don’t know how to be that and still be me.” Your throat closes.
He’s fucking you like the rhythm is synced to his heart. Every motion slow, devastating, steady. Not stopping. And you—God—you’re falling apart. Silently.
Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Just air. Just trembles. Because your body is trying to fall apart but you won’t interrupt him. You won’t.
He feels it. He holds you closer.
“I want to be soft with you,” he breathes. “I want to show you every part I’ve kept hidden. Even the ones I hate.”
Your eyes flood. Your arms shake. He doesn’t stop. And it builds.
He’s holding you still while he confesses, while he fucks you like he’s memorizing every inch of you, every sound you try to suppress. The burn of him inside you is constant, every drag slow and torturous, but it’s the emotion in it that’s ruining you.
And then, “I love you.” It’s not shouted. Not grand.
Just true. True.
“I love you so fucking much it makes me sick.”
That’s it. Your body gives out. Orgasm hits like a wave crashing into bone.
You cry—fully cry—as your body pulses around him, thighs trembling, face buried in his neck, broken sounds slipping from your lips without shame. It’s too much. It’s everything. It’s him.
He holds you.
Doesn’t move faster. Doesn’t chase his own. Just stays inside, deep and grounding, his arms wrapped around you like protection itself. He whispers into your hair, breath catching.
“I’m still not done talking.”
Your heart splits open. You nod—barely—too ruined to do anything else.
And he starts again. Moving, slow. Again. Deeper. Not done with you. Not done speaking.
“I thought I was past this,” he murmurs, his voice steady now. “Past loving anyone like this.”
You tremble in his arms.
“But I want everything with you. All of it.”
You cry again—but it’s quieter this time. Softer. Acceptance blooming behind the ache. He kisses your temple. Keeps going. Keeps loving you with his body.
“I don’t want to leave anymore.”
And then—he falls quiet. His rhythm shifts just slightly. Not faster, but fuller. Like he’s focused now. Intent. You feel the change before he speaks again—his breath warm at your ear, his hand sliding between your bodies to touch you where you’re already aching.
“You’ve got one more for me, haven’t you?”
Your breath stutters. “You can give me another,” he whispers, voice low and reverent. “Just one more.”
You nod—but it’s a broken nod, lips parted, unable to speak.
“Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart again.”
He moves with purpose now—still slow, still devastating, but direct. His fingers rub slow circles, his cock dragging deep, hitting that spot inside that makes your spine arch and your mouth open in a sob.
You clutch at him, arms tight around his shoulders, every nerve lit up again. “Simon” you gasp, “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he breathes. “You’re mine. Let me have it.”
And you do. You fall apart again, right there in his arms—louder this time, trembling through it, voice breaking on his name. It hits hard. Fast. Completely. He doesn’t stop until your body’s shivering and twitching from overstimulation, tears streaking your cheeks, your lips parted and gasping for air.
Only then—only after you’ve given him everything—does he let go.
He buries himself deep and stays there, trembling as he spills into you with a quiet, broken sound. Not loud. Not frantic.
Just your name. Breathed like a prayer. Like relief.
And then he’s holding you again—really holding you—his chest rising against yours, one hand splayed between your shoulder blades, the other stroking your thigh, grounding you.
You’re both shaking. But neither of you pull away.
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sidemari · 2 months ago
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• After Dark •
A NSFW compilation of short texts (not so short) about their kinks. This could also be called "1 character, 1 kink".
Characters included: Childe, Diluc Ragnvindr, Dottore, Kaeya Alberich, Kamisato Ayato, Ningguang, Scaramouche, Wriothesley and Zhongli [separately] x Fem/AFAB/GN!Reader 
TW: Aphrodisiacs; BDSM dynamics; bondage; brat taming; breeding kink; consensual non-con; creampie; DD/LG; dirty talk; edging; exhibitionism; fingering; masturbation; oral sex (F/M receiving); overstimulation; praise kink; sub/dom dynamics; vibrators; unprotected sex. Let me know if I missed any.
WC: 10k+ (all of the stories together, of course).
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Forgive me for any mistakes, I'm exhausted, and I won't read this giant post over again for the next few weeks, lol.
Childe 
Consensual non-con. (Fem!Reader) 
You were lying on the sheets, your wrists tied above your head with a bow he had tied himself — tight enough to keep the fantasy alive, but soft enough not to hurt you.
“Look what we have here…” Tartaglia’s voice sounded deep and theatrical, as if he were playing a character. He was looking down at you with a wild glint in his eyes, the crooked smile of someone who was having fun — but with his heart pounding with desire and zeal for you. You squirmed, trying hard to look scared, even though you knew that was exactly what he wanted.
“P-Please… Don’t do this…” You whispered, trembling on purpose, playing the role perfectly.
“You should know that you can’t tease someone like me and still get away with it, princess…” He growled, pulling your legs to the edge of the bed. The way his eyes bored into yours, even when he was playing his role, was still full of adoration. “It’s too late to regret it now.”
The sheets under you were damp with some of the essence that insisted on seeping from you, due to your anticipation. Your nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown, and he noticed every reaction — every little sign that you wanted this as much as he did. 
“You’re so wet…” He commented as he slid his fingers between your legs. “You’re begging me with that little body, even though you’re saying ‘no’ with your mouth.” He leaned in and whispered against your ear, “But I know your body better than anyone, my love. I know when it’s desperate for me.”
“P-Please, don’t do this to m-me… I’m… so sorry for—” But he didn’t let you finish. He thrust into you hard, in one motion, eliciting a scream from you that was a mix of shock and pleasure. You arched your body, pulling at the sheets, feeling the heat rise like an overwhelming wave.
“Beg me.” He ordered, his voice hoarse with lust. “Tell me you need it. That you can’t live without my cock ravishing your cunt.”
“Ajax, please, use me… Fuck me until I can’t think anymore…” You moaned, your eyes moist, no longer from pretense, but from real, deep pleasure. His hips moved with rhythm and strength, your name escaping between his lips. The act had already given way to surrender — the game was exciting, but what made it all intense was the trust between you.
He leaned in, his red hair wet with sweat, his eyes fixed on yours.
“Is everything okay?” He asked softly, breaking character for a moment, just to be sure.
You nodded with a lascivious smile. “I can still take much more, love…”
And he provided that to you, until your legs were trembling, until your eyes watered with pleasure, until your voice broke. And when it was all over, he released you with loving hands, kissing each mark and scratch, wrapping you in his arms as if you were fragile. 
“It was perfect.” He whispered. “You’re perfect.”
Diluc Ragnvindr
Bondage. (Fem!Reader) 
The flames in the fireplace cast warm shadows over the stone walls of the room. The unmistakable aroma of wine and wood filled the room, and the silence was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire. You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing, your eyes attentive to Diluc’s every move as he walked back towards you. 
He looked even more imposing under the golden light, his red hair loose over his shoulders and an expression that mixed concentration with restrained desire. In his hands, he held the red satin strips that you had timidly suggested the night before. 
“Are you sure about this?” He asked in a low, husky voice, kneeling before you. His hands caressed your thighs gently, reverently, as if preparing the ground for something deeper. “I only want this if you want it too.” You nodded, your face hot, your breath shallow.
“Yes. I do. Just… just take care of me.” A small smile appeared on his lips — a rare, intimate smile that made your chest tighten. 
“Always.”
Patiently, Diluc led you to the center of the bed. His kisses came slow, intense, as he took his time to undress you, piece by piece, as if each button and strap were a ritual. When you were naked beneath the fine linen sheets, he pulled away just enough to tie your wrists with the satin, crossing them over your head and securing them firmly to the headboard.
“Let me know if it’s too tight.” He said, caressing the skin of your arms, his dark eyes assessing your expression every second. You felt the knot tighten securely, but it didn’t hurt. It was firm… comforting, even. You trusted him. You always had.
Diluc lay back down beside you, his fingers gliding over the curves of your bound body, his eyes exploring every detail as if he were memorizing the landscape of the woman he loved. He leaned in, kissing your collarbone, your jaw, until your lips parted reflexively.
“You’re so beautiful like this…” He murmured against your skin. “Surrendered, only mine.”
His words made something inside you melt, even more so when his hand went down between your legs and found you already wet, hot and pulsing.
“Already so wet… I’ve barely touched you.” He chuckled softly, a deep, satisfied sound, before pressing his thumb against your clit and making slow, teasing circles. Your hips moved instinctively, but he held them back with his other hand, holding you in place.
“No.” The word was spoken tenderly, but full of command. “I’m the one in control here.”
You bit your lip, arching your back with a restrained moan. Tied up and exposed, each touch felt more intense. Diluc knew that. He knew your body like no one else. His fingers danced between torture and pleasure, making you writhe under the delicate control he masterfully exercised. His breathing was also heavier, his dark eyes fixed on your face, capturing every reaction. He alternated soft caresses with firmer touches, sometimes leaning in to kiss your breasts, sometimes whispering praises in your ear: 
“You endure so much for me… so obedient…” 
“You’re driving me crazy like this…” 
“I need to hear you beg, love.” 
You felt yourself getting close. Your body trembled, your muscles contracted, your orgasm building like an inevitable storm. But then, just as the wave began to rise, he stopped. He removed his fingers, went back to kissing your neck, leaving you on the edge — dragging your pleasure with refinement and intention. 
“D-Diluc, please…” You whimpered, your eyes watering, your body arching toward him. “Don’t stop…”
“You haven’t reached your limit yet,” He replied quietly, his voice low and husky, his fingertips tracing your abdomen. “I want you to need this. To really beg for me.” You panted, your body too hot and sensitive. Each pause was sweet torture, a flame that burned without consuming — until the desire became something deeper, more urgent. And then, when you finally moaned his name, begging without pride or shame, he smiled.
“Good girl.” He positioned himself between your legs, kissing you hungrily, his entire body pressing against yours. The heat of his skin, his weight, the firmness with which he held your hips — everything about him was absolute. When he finally entered you, slow, deep, your body cried out in relief. It was as if everything fell into place — as if the universe were spinning on its axis again. He groaned softly, his lips against your neck, his hips moving with a rhythm that was torturous, but felt so good.
“You’re perfect. So tight… You take me so well…” His voice was hoarse from pleasure. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this… about you, trapped, moaning my name…”
The restraints kept you from touching him, but that only made everything more intense. You felt vulnerable and adored at the same time. His thrusts became harder, but the bed creaked in protest as he lost himself in you.
“Look at me.” He pulled your face with one hand. “I want to see your eyes when you come for me.” And you obeyed. There was no other choice, no other destiny, no other name to say but his as your body shattered with pleasure — the orgasm ripping through every inch of you hot, overwhelming. Diluc continued for a few more seconds, until he spilled himself inside you, trembling, his face hidden in your neck.
When your breathing returned to normal, he carefully untied your wrists, kissing every red mark left by the satin. His fingers caressed your arms, your hair, your waist.
“You were wonderful,” He murmured, pulling you to his chest. “Thank you for trusting me.” You smiled, tired, satisfied, whole. In the flames dancing in the fireplace, everything seemed safe. Everything was love.
Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 
You were sitting on the couch in Diluc’s private library, wrapped in a light robe, your body still tingling from the wine he had brought. But it wasn’t just any wine. It tasted exotic, sweet and spicy — with something that made you feel warm from the first sip.
Your heart beated faster, your skin felt more sensitive, and every glance Diluc made in your direction made your breath falter. He was there, standing in front of the bookshelf, watching you with those intense red eyes, like embers about to catch fire. There was a small smile on the corner of his lips — a smile that betrayed that he knew exactly what he had done. 
“This wine…” You began, your voice lower than you expected. “There’s something more to it, isn’t there?” Diluc approached slowly, his hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes fixed on yours. 
“It’s a special batch. Made from a rare variety of fruits grown in the fertile soil of Sumeru. Some say it… stimulates the senses.” He stopped in front of you, leaning down just enough to touch your chin with two fingers. “Do you feel it?”
You nodded, your lips parted, the heat growing in your lower belly like a fire slowly spreading. He gently removed the robe from your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warm air of the room.
“You look so beautiful like this… all flushed, breathless…” He knelt between your legs, his fingers sliding up your bare thigh. “Sensitive.” His lips brushed against your skin, each kiss sending electric waves to the core of your body. It was as if each touch of his tripled in intensity. The wine, or whatever it was, made your body beg for more — made you writhe under the softest caresses, yearning for something that had yet to come.
He pulled your legs up to his shoulders with ease and buried his face between your thighs, his hot tongue sliding inside you with precision, firmness, and calculated pleasure. It was almost cruel, the way he used his mouth — as if he studied your reaction to every movement. You moaned, your hands going to his hair out of reflex, but he held them with one of his large hands, keeping you in place.
“Stay still,” He murmured against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”
And you tried. But it was impossible not to writhe, not to moan, not to beg. The heat was too much. Your body throbbed, hungry, desperate for release. And when you were finally on the edge, arching your back and gripping the seat under you, Diluc stopped. His red eyes rose to yours, hungry, and a little cruel.
He stripped off his own clothes, revealing the strength contained beneath his formal attire, his muscles defined in the firelight. When he lay down on top of you, the heat of your two bodies met like a spark in gunpowder. He entered you slowly, filling you completely, and you both gasped in unison.
“You’re… tight,” he whispered through his teeth. “Like you’ve been waiting for me for days.” His movements began slowly, deeply, and you felt every inch of him as if it were the first time. The aphrodisiac made your body vibrate, your skin tingle, your senses plunge into a pleasurable torpor. It was impossible to control your moans, the way your body trembled beneath him, the way your hips sought more. Diluc bent down, kissing your neck, your shoulder, biting carefully. 
“Are you this sensitive because of me? Because I filled you with that wine, knowing what I would do to you later?” The answer escaped like a sob of pleasure. 
“Yes…” He increased his pace, his movements more intense, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the muffled room. His hands held your waist firmly, keeping you in place as your body was taken deeper, faster, harder.
“You’re mine,” he whispered against your mouth. “Only mine. I want you like this… writhing in pleasure, calling my name, begging for more.” You couldn’t think, speak or breathe properly. The pleasure came like violent waves, and when it arrived, it was overwhelming. Your body arched, your eyes rolled back, your moans were lost in Diluc’s mouth as he also spilled himself inside you, with a low, hoarse grunt, full of pleasure.
He stayed there for a while, still on top of you, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair. Then, he pulled you to his chest, covering the two of you with a blanket.
“Next time,” He said with a satisfied smile, “I’ll use a smaller dose. Or maybe not.”
Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 
The night had started slowly. Calm kisses, hands exploring patiently, and tender whispers exchanged under the soft light that entered through the mansion’s windows. Diluc was always meticulous with everything he did, and with you it was no different. He made love like someone who appreciates a rare wine — slowly, savoring your every reaction, every sigh.
But that night, there was something more. A glint in his eyes, something hungry, that made your entire body react even before the first most intimate touch. He wanted more — and he wanted you to feel more.
Your eyes met his for a moment, and all you could do was nod, already feeling the heat begin to pulse in your belly. Diluc smiled — not that gentle smile of his usual, but a slower one, full of dangerous promises.
The sheets were rumpled beneath you, your hair spread across the pillow as he settled himself between your legs again. You had already gotten there — not once, but twice. Your body was trembling, sensitive, a little fragile under the touch of his hands… but still hungry.
“Look how wet you still are for me,” He whispered, sliding two fingers inside you, slowly, almost reverently. You gasped, your body reacting with small spasms, as if you were on edge — and you were.
“Diluc…” Your voice was broken, pleading, but he just smiled and lay back down between your thighs. The first touches of his tongue were almost unbearable. Your skin reacted with small tremors, the pleasure coming fast, too aggressive, as if every nerve was screaming with the accumulated intensity. You tried to close your legs, instinctively, but he held them firmly.
“Don’t run away now, my dear,” He said in an almost serious tone, looking at you with his red eyes burning with desire. “You can handle it. I know you can.”
And he went back to licking, slow and deep, exploring you with the precision that only he had. His hands held your thighs open, pinning you to the bed as if he wouldn’t let you escape for even a second. Your head threw back on the pillow, moans escaping loudly, uninhibited, because you could no longer control anything.
It was too much. Everything was too much. His mouth, the heat, the perfect and cruel rhythm, the feeling of being consumed entirely. Your entire body trembled, and when the orgasm arrived — a third, overwhelming one — he didn’t even give you time to breathe.
“Diluc, please… I… I can’t take it…” You whimpered, almost sobbing, your body contracting as if you were running away and searching for more at the same time.
“Of course you can,” He murmured, his fingers now replacing his mouth. Two firm fingers, thrusting in and out of you at a torturous pace, while his other hand caressed your clit with soft, rhythmic circular strokes. “You’re so good for me… you always give me everything.”
You whimpered fearlessly, shamelessly — your moans mixing with disjointed words, your eyes watering. Each wave of pleasure was more intense than the last, each one stealing a piece of your air, your strength. And yet… you didn’t want him to stop.
Diluc was visibly aroused by your surrender. His eyes were glued to your body, to the way you trembled and moaned and begged. He climbed on top of you, pressing your body against his, and aligned himself with your entrance again — hot, hard, hungry.
“One more,” He whispered against your mouth, his lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. “Just one more for me, love…” And when he entered you, everything went blank for a second. Your body, which already seemed about to collapse. He moved with force, with need, each thrust deep and accurate. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, his moans mixing with yours as he held your face, his eyes fixed on yours. 
Your entire body exploded in pleasure once more, with such intensity that tears escaped your eyes. You moaned loudly, your whole body arching, your hands gripping the sheets as if you were going to come undone.
Diluc hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck when he came too, with a hoarse moan. His body shuddered against yours, and then everything was quiet for a moment — just your hearts beating fast, your breathless, sweaty, and exhausted.
He kissed your forehead gently, running his fingers through your heat-soaked hair.
You smiled against his chest, your body still trembling, but completely sated.
Dottore 
Sleepy sex. (Fem!Reader)
The lab finally fell silent. Vials still pulsed with faint blue glows, remnants of some unstable mixture he had decided to leave for the next day. For the first time in hours — maybe days — Dottore was without his mask and his impenetrable posture. Just a man with heavy eyes and slow breathing, slumped on the couch in the next room, his shirt half open and his hair still a little messy from the last time he ran his hands through it.
You approach him silently. He knows it’s you even before he opens his eyes, and he murmurs something hoarse, low, almost swallowed by fatigue.
“You should be sleeping…” But his arms open anyway, as if his body were defying its own order.
When you lie down next to him, he immediately pulls you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck as if he were trying to hide from the world. There’s something curious there — he seems more fragile than you’re used to seeing. The defenses that always make him so hard to read were now slowly melting away in the heat of your skin.
“You calm me down.” He confesses softly, between warm kisses on your shoulder. His voice is still slurred, half-sleepy, but the desire… that was already starting to boil beneath the surface. His hands slide down your thighs more slowly than usual, as if he were too lazy to let go of his control — but also without the slightest desire to resist you. Each touch of his is a little more needy than technical. You see him without any armor, and yet so sure of himself, even tired.
Your lips meet slowly. It’s a lazy, slurred kiss… but full of that typical Dottore intensity. He murmurs against your mouth:
“Do you want this now?” And when you respond with a whispered yes, he sighs as if he already knows. “Of course you do. You always know how to make me weak…”
The excitement grows between kisses and touches exchanged in silence, almost respecting the tiredness that weighs on both bodies. Still, there is something delicious in losing yourself like this — in bodies intertwined without haste, in moans muffled by the pillow, in panting breaths that mix.
Dottore’s surrendered more than ever. With half-open eyes, he observes your every reaction, even as he moans softly as he feels you mount him with the calm of someone who knows all the shortcuts to your pleasure. His hands hold your hips, sometimes tightly, sometimes just caressing you with his fingertips, as if he wanted to prolong that moment as much as possible.
You move your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him, feeling how his body trembles beneath yours.
“You’re driving me crazy…” He says, his voice deep and broken.
“Then go crazy with me.” You reply. And he does exactly that.
There, between the rumpled sheets and the drowsy smell of experiments and desire, Dottore lets himself go. Cumming with you on top of him is almost cathartic, as if his own body were thanking you for letting him come undone like that — tired, vulnerable, but satisfied.
Then, he keeps you there, lying on his chest, fingers drawing circles on your spine. The drowsiness is now real, deep… but in the midst of the torpor, he still says with an almost choked voice:
“You are the only experiment I never want to end.”
Kaeya Alberich 
You being on top. (Fem!Reader)  
He loves to tease. You know that. Just look at him, with that crooked smile and his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. But behind the sharp words and calculated charm, there is something else — something that only you know.
It is the Kaeya who moans softly when you hold his chin firmly and tell him to stay still and obey. It is the Kaeya who shudders when you push him against the bed and ride him at your own pace, making sure to control every moan, every sigh, every tremor of his body.
“Are you that sensitive already?” You ask, feigning innocence as you move over him, slowly burying his cock deep inside you, staying there for a few seconds, grinding your hips against his, before starting the movements all again. He bites his lip, his eyes moist with pleasure — that pleasure that burns in his chest, that almost hurts because it feels so good.
“You’re going to kill me, love… I can’t take it—”
“Yes, you will. You’ll take it because I want you to.” And he obeys. Always.
He loves seeing you on top — literally and emotionally. He loves when you hold his wrists against the mattress and straddle him with a sweet, dangerous smile on your lips. He loves feeling his entire body begging for release, while you deny it, only to see him begging for more.
“Touch me… Please, just a little—” His voice breaks, choking, and he turns his face away, ashamed of his own weakness. But you hold his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Or else… At least let me touch you…” His hands struggle against yours, winning and lifting one of them to touch your breast, squeezing it devotedly. You pull his hand away, preventing him from touching your body under the threat that you wouldn’t let him cum if he did.
“Look how beautiful you are like this… Whimpering and almost crying just because I’m giving you pleasure in my own way.” The moan that escapes him is almost a sob. A muffled sound, drenched in emotion and desire. You don't need to do anything else — just exist, and he's already surrendered.
“Can I?” He bit his lip, trying to hold your hips only to have you slap his hands away.
“Can you what? Use your words, Alberich.” Heavens, iit was so good to see him like this, escaping his dominant and sharp personality.
“C-Can I cum? I'm so close, p-please…” Your movements became faster and your own hands guided his so that one of them stimulated your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts, teasing your nipple every now and then. That was your way of saying — without words — that he could cum. And he did, becoming a whimpering mess under you.
“Remind me to tease you more often if you're going to treat me like this.” He murmured, before pulling you off of him so that you two could switch positions. “Now I need some revenge, right?”
Bondage. (Fem!Reader) 
You were there, your wrists tied above your head, your back against the mattress, your body exposed and heated by his voice. Kaeya was an expert at seduction, but with you… he sometimes left a little teasing aside, just to show how much he knew what he was doing.
“Don’t worry, love,” He whispered, adjusting the tie on your wrists with surprising care. “If you want me to stop, just say so. But something tells me you won’t.”
The fabric he used to restrain you was soft, allowing it to be firm enough to impede most of your movements. His kisses spread like slow fire — down your neck, against your collarbone, across the curve of your breasts. Your eyes returned to his for a second, and Kaeya gave you that mischievous and affectionate smile, his fingers sliding between your legs, teasing you just enough to make you gasp.
“Look at you… You’re already so ready, and I barely touched you.” His fingers penetrated your folds, curving to reach your g-spot with ease and mastery. It was almost as if he had memorized your body: every curve, every sensitive spot. Teasing was a game he mastered. 
Then he bent down and devoured you with his mouth while his fingers didn't stop their movements. His tongue lapped at you with a precision that made you writhe, tied up, completely helpless in the face of the pleasure he administered with dedication.
"Stay still for me, darling," He murmured against your sex, his dark blue eyes fixed on yours. "Let me take care of everything." And you let him. 
The world was reduced to his hands, his mouth, the weight of his body on yours. He made you ask — not beg, because he knew the difference. He wanted to see you surrendered, but with pride, surrendered to him because you trusted him, not because you were forced. And that made him crazy with desire. 
When he finally entered you, your moans mingled with his, muffled by deep kisses. The thrusts were firm, constant, followed by sweet and dirty words in equal measure.
"Just like that… You're mine, all mine. I'm going to remind you of that every time you cum around me." And you both came, strong and overwhelming, the waves of pleasure washing over your bodies. He released you afterwards, with gentle hands, worried eyes, covering you with kisses and caresses.
"Did I tie you up too tightly?" He asked, caressing your cheek affectionately.
"No, I like it when you do that." You kissed the corner of his mouth. "Can we go again?"
"Always."
Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 
You didn’t know exactly what he had put in that wine — but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want. Kaeya was a tease, but he loved you. He loved the way you trusted him even when your eyes were clouded with desire, even when your body trembled for more.
“Just a touch of something special,” He whispered against your lips, holding the glass that was still between his fingers. “Something to... ignite what’s already burning.”
The drink tasted sweet, almost fruity, but the effect was immediate: your skin tingled, every heartbeat seemed to echo between your legs, and Kaeya’s presence, with his scent, his smile, and his cool fingers against your warm skin, became unbearably addictive. 
He noticed the effect, of course he did. He sat behind you, pulling you onto his lap calmly, his chest against your back, his hands traveling over your body, mapping it with care and intention.
“It’s hot, hm? It’s the aphrodisiac... But it’s also me.” He chuckled softly, kissing the side of your neck. “Your body knows who it wants.” 
You moaned softly when his hands reached your breasts, squeezing them gently, his thumbs playing with your nipples through your thin clothing. Your hips moved unintentionally, seeking friction, relief — and Kaeya guided you with pleasure.
“You’re sensitive... So beautiful like this. I could make you cum with a touch.” 
He laid you down with all the care in the world, removing each piece of clothing with lingering kisses. His fingers stimulated your sex just enough to make you shiver, and he smiled, fascinated by the intensity of your reaction.
The aphrodisiac pulsed in your blood like fire, and Kaeya enjoyed every second — with patience, with precision, with desire. His touch was the final dose: you came with just his fingers and tongue, your entire body arching in response.
“That’s it...” He whispered, between kisses on your belly, moving up to your lips. “I want to make you come like this again and again.” And he really did.
With his body pressed against yours, his eyes fixed on yours, Kaeya penetrated you slowly, moaning with the pleasure of being inside you — and feeling how hot, tight, desperate you were. You scratched his back, and he moaned back, asking for more.
“It’s my fault,” He murmured with a dirty smile. “I left you like this... and now I’m going to fix it.” 
Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 
He had already made you cum once. Then twice. And now your body felt like it was about to collapse under his every new touch.
“Kaeya… P-Please…” You moaned, your voice broken by the excess of pleasure, by the tremors that ran through your open legs, still exposed to him.
But he didn’t stop.
His tongue moved slowly over your clit, as if savoring your every reaction, every involuntary spasm, every breathless sob that escaped your lips.
“You can still take more, can’t you?” He asked in a low voice, his lips wet with your essence, his eyes half-closed and hungry. “Your body is begging me even if your mouth says otherwise.”
You tried to close your legs, but his arms were firm, keeping them apart. Kaeya was gentle, but determined. The pleasure was already unbearable — and yet, you wanted more. 
“You look so beautiful when you crumble like that,” He whispered, before lapping at you again more firmly, his fingers sliding inside you with ease, curling at the exact spot that made you gasp. Your back arched once more, the orgasm ripping through your body with force. He felt it and smiled, because he knew there was more to come.
“How many times can I make you cum before you pass out in my arms?” He murmured against your skin, kissing your inner thigh, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly, as if he was testing the limits of your sensitivity. 
You whimpered, struggling weakly, your body already too sensitive, your clit throbbing, your mind clouded by so much pleasure.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” He whispered, moving up to your lips and kissing you tenderly. “You’re doing so well...” Kaeya entered you slowly, feeling how you trembled, how your body pulsed around him, completely surrendered. He moaned against your mouth, pleasure consuming him too. 
“Let me take you to the edge… Just one more time.” He asked, his voice choking with desire and affection. “I’ll take care of you later, I promise.”
And you let him. Because there, even in the midst of the chaos of absolute pleasure, Kaeya was your safe haven — even when he made you forget your own name with yet another orgasm that made you see stars.
Kamisato Ayato 
Bondage. (Fem!Reader)
You had lost count of how many times Ayato had told you that he loved seeing you surrendered to him. But there was something in the way he said it — with that serene smile, his clear eyes fixed on yours — that made everything inside you warm. With him, even submission was wrapped in elegance and reverence. And that night, the touch of the silk tying your wrists only confirmed that.
The softness of the sheets contrasted with the gentle tension of the ribbons that held your arms above your head, firmly on the back of the bed. Your legs, equally spread and immobilized with delicacy, made you feel vulnerable... and deeply desired.
Ayato was kneeling between your legs, impeccable even in that intimate moment. No part of him seemed out of control — everything was calculated, refined, even the way he ran his fingers through the ties to check if they were tight enough without hurting your skin.
“You trust me, don’t you?” He asked softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your lips sweetly.
“Of course I do.” You replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.
“Good girl.” He whispered with a crooked smile that made your stomach turn. “Then let me guide you tonight.” His hands were as gentle as they were firm. He began exploring your skin with light touches, trailing his fingers along the curves of your body, slowly moving downward. He kissed each spot patiently, with a silent adoration that made your skin shiver from head to toe. And then he stopped, observing your bound body as if it were the most precious of works of art.
“You look so beautiful like this... exposed just for me.” He said in a low tone, almost like a prayer. “Every sigh you take, every shiver... it’s all mine.”
You gasped as you felt the tip of his tongue slide down your belly, rising to the base of your breasts, where he stopped to nibble lightly. The restraints made it impossible for you to try to squirm, and that only made each touch intensify. You were surrendered, and he knew it.
Ayato brought his fingers to your intimacy, touching slowly, exploratively. Your hips moved, an involuntary reaction to the growing pleasure, but he held you firmly.
And with that, he bent down, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. Ayato’s tongue was a precision weapon. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck, when to speed up and when to stop just to watch you writhe, begging for more.
The tension of the tapes on your wrists made each sensation even more vivid. Your senses were heightened, your body reacting to each stimulus as if it were the first. Your moans became pleas, and when the first orgasm came, you practically cried out in pleasure, trembling under his touch.
He climbed up your body, his chest pressed against yours, his eyes staring into yours with a glow that was both hungry and calm at the same time. 
"You're not done yet," He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. "Not until I say so."
And then he positioned himself and penetrated you slowly, with an almost cruel slowness. You were so sensitive that the simple act of feeling him inside you drew a loud moan. He moved firmly, controlling each thrust, watching every expression on your face, as if memorizing every nuance of yours.
The silk ribbons held your arms in place, and that only intensified everything. You couldn't touch him, couldn't pull him closer, only feel — and obey.
“You’re mine.” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “So obedient, so perfect for me…” The climax came again, even stronger, making your vision blur for seconds. Your entire body trembled, sweat stuck the strands of hair to your forehead, and all you could do was call his name, as if it were all that mattered in the world.
And when he finally came undone on top of you, with a low, satisfied groan, Ayato wrapped his arms around you, whispering praises, loosening each bond with affection. His kisses were now tender, and he murmured between one touch and another:
“You were wonderful... as always.”
Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 
The evening began with a treat. Ayato appeared with a small, ornate wooden box adorned with the Yashiro Commission seal and a delicate silver-blue bow. He handed it to you with a restrained smile, but his eyes — always so serene — gleamed with something more mischievous.
“A special Sumeru delicacy.” He explained, sitting down next to you. “Sweets made from the nectar of a flower called the Nilotpala Lotus. They are known for their… stimulating properties.” You looked at him with a mix of curiosity and amused trepidation. 
“Stimulating how?” Ayato smiled, taking one of the small candies with graceful fingers and bringing it to your mouth. 
“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Your distrust didn’t last long. You always trusted him — and besides, the scent emanating from the little box was sweet, delicate, and enveloping, like jasmine with a hint of honey. When you bit into the first sweet, a warm wave ran through your body. It wasn’t just the taste — melting on your tongue like silk — but the sensation that was slowly spreading through your limbs. Heat. Sensitivity. A silent awakening in every spot of your skin. Ayato watched, enchanted by every expression that took over your face. 
“It’s starting to take effect, isn’t it?”
You nodded, taking a deep breath. 
“It’s like… my body is more alive.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
He moved closer, his fingers gliding along your bare thigh with reverence. The contact made you hold your breath — a simple touch sending shivers that seemed to run down your spine. Ayato smiled with silent pleasure, as if appreciating the fruits of a carefully laid plan.
“You’re so sensitive… so receptive.” His lips touched your collarbone, then your neck. “Every part of you is begging for attention.”
Gently, he laid you down on the sheets, pulling the fabric of your robe with slowness. The cool air against your exposed skin contrasted with the heat building inside. Ayato took his time — he explored every inch of you with kisses and caresses that set you on fire. He knew your body like no one else and seemed determined to enjoy every second.
When his mouth found the curve between your legs, you gasped. His tongue was patient, meticulous, eliciting reactions heightened by the sweets. It was as if his every touch was magnified tenfold — and you couldn’t escape the sensation.
“Ayato—!” You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets.
“Yes,” He murmured between kisses, “I want you to say my name like that. I need to hear you come undone for me.” His fingers gripped your thigh more firmly, preventing any movement. Each lick was a delicious torture, each pause a subtle punishment. You felt the muscles in your stomach contract, the heat between your legs growing until it became unbearable.
“Please... more...”
“More?” He teased, looking up with that calm smile. “But I’ve barely begun.” When he finally entered you, with the same careful rhythm, your bodies fit together as they always did — perfectly. But now, with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins, it was all too much. Too intense. Too pleasurable. Each thrust was deep, calculated, and you whimpered in pleasure, completely surrendered to this man who never lost control — except when he wanted to make you lose yours.
“You’re so beautiful like this... all surrendered, all mine.” He whispered against your ear, the sound of his voice like velvet on your skin.
Your orgasms came in waves, shaking your body with force and he was there, steady, attentive, guiding you through it all, as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. In the end, he held you against his chest, running his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair.
“Maybe we should bring more of those sweets home.” He whispered. “Or maybe… you only react like that to me.”
Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 
The night was silent inside the Kamisato residence, and the intimacy of Ayato’s room seemed separated from the rest of the world. Candles in thin holders cast soft shadows on the walls, and the light scent of sakura petals invaded the room through the half-open window. You knew him well — every subtle expression, every restrained gesture. And you knew exactly how to make him lose that control.
Ayato lay on his back on the futon, his hair slightly messed up by the silk pillow. The blue yukata he wore was loose, his chest partially exposed, rising and falling with his already irregular breathing. 
“Are you comfortable?” You asked, your voice soft as you caressed his abdomen with your fingertips.
“Yes,” He replied, his tone low, almost a whisper. “But you… are playing a dangerous game, my dear.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss his collarbone. 
“Maybe I am.” Your fingers slowly moved down, tracing the length of his cock before wrapping your hand around it with precision. The moan that escaped Ayato’s lips was suppressed, but you felt his body shudder.You  started slow, almost lazy, and his eyes closed as his hips lifted, seeking more. 
Your tongue collected the pre-cum that leaked from the tip of his cock, tasting it before taking his length into your mouth, sucking just the tip before sucking him completely — the head of his cock hitting your throat and making you choke on sinful sounds.
“You’re already so sensitive…” You murmured, watching his skin react, his entire body arch in response.
“You… always know how to disarm me, don’t you?” He said with a crooked smile, trying to maintain his composure even though his toes were already twitching.
The first time he came was quick: he’d been on edge since the very first touch of you — hot spurts of cum hitting your throat, and you drank all of him with need. But you didn’t stop. You continued to stimulate him, now with slower, delicately torturous movements from your hand, that stroked his cock with devotion. Ayato gasped, his neck and back arching. 
“Wait… ah! You’re teasing me—”
“I’m taking care of you.” You whispered, caressing the side of his face. “You always take care of everyone and everything. Now it’s your turn to surrender, Ayato.”
The second time came with more difficulty. He groaned your name, his hips shaking as the pleasure coursed through him again, this time more intense, more desperate. His eyes were watering, and you leaned in to kiss away the silent tears that trickled from the corners of his eyes.
“You’re doing so well,” You praised, and he shivered all over at the compliment whispered in his ear. “So beautiful, so obedient.” Ayato smiled, his lips trembling, his cheeks flushed. “You’re cruel, love…” You just laughed softly. 
“Cruel? Never. I am devoted. To your pleasure, at least.” And when he reached his third orgasm — shaking, sobbing, completely lost in the touch, in the words, in the suffocating intimacy of that room — you wrapped your arms around him, kissing his forehead tenderly.
“You were perfect,” You whispered, stroking his hair as he caught his breath. Ayato smiled, tired, satisfied. 
“I love you.” He murmured against your neck.
“And I love seeing you like this… All mine.” 
Ningguang 
Exhibitionism. (GN!Reader) 
It was night in Liyue, and the high moon was shedding its silvery light over the rooftops of the Jade Chamber, making everything even more luxurious and enchanting. You were there, alone with her, after a long day. Ningguang, as always, maintained her impeccable posture, sitting elegantly on the divan in the center of the hall with large windows, which offered a full view of the city below.
"Close the door." She said, her voice like silk, low and sure. "And stay where you are. Don't come any closer yet."
You obeyed, not understanding at first, but soon your eyes fixed on the way she stood up. The soft light illuminated her contours as she slowly dropped the white robe she was wearing, revealing the scarlet lingerie, convenient, tailored. It was delicate, lacy, with small provocative slits on the sides. She turned to the side, purposefully, knowing exactly how the curve of her waist and hips would steal your attention.
“I spend my days being admired by everyone. Desirous glances, restrained suggestions. But tonight,” She walked to the glass windows and stood there, facing the city, “Only you will see me like this... and only you will be able to touch me... When I allow it.”
The position was daring. Anyone with a well-positioned around that building could, in theory, see that enchanting silhouette through the windows. But Ningguang didn’t seem worried. She was in complete control of the situation — and you knew she wanted it that way.
She glanced over her shoulder, her red lipstick contrasting with her pale skin and her steady gaze.
“You like seeing me like this, don’t you?” You nodded, your breath catching in your throat.
Then, with calculated slowness, she reached for the clasp of her bra and unclasped it, letting the garment slide off her shoulders. Her exposed breasts were exposed under the moonlight, and the view was as mesmerizing as it was forbidden. She didn’t cover anything, showing herself with all the naturalness of someone who controls her own desires — and those of others.
“You’re so quiet…” She teased. “Did the image of me undressing for you in front of all of Liyue leave you speechless?” Her hands then went down her own thighs, until she reached her panties. She didn’t take them off right away. She just moved them a little to the side, revealing just enough to drive you crazy with desire. Her fingers slid there, and an almost silent moan escaped her lips. She touched herself in front of you, slowly, with evident pleasure. “Stay there. And just look. I want you to learn... that my lust is a gift I grant you.” 
Little by little, her body began to move more rhythmically, her hips undulating slightly against her hand, her moans becoming more frequent, although muffled by her ladylike composure. She arched her back against the glass, knowing that this accentuated every curve, every tremor, every breath.
You wanted to touch her. You wanted to be part of it, but she hadn’t let you yet. Then she stopped all stimulation abruptly, earning a curious look from you. She turned slowly, her hair fanning out over her bare back as her gaze met yours — steady, warm, with a glow of victory. 
“Come.” She said, holding out a hand. “You’ve endured my teasing well. Now you can worship me up close.” 
Scaramouche (Wanderer) 
BDSM, brat-taming. (AFAB!Reader) 
You teased him. You knew exactly what you were doing — every defiant look, every insolent retort, every cheeky smile. You knew Scaramouche wouldn’t let you off the hook. And that was exactly what you wanted. 
He sat cross-legged, watching you with feigned boredom and a sharp glint in his eyes. The silence was thick in the room, until he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and spoke in a low, harsh voice: 
“Say one more word in that tone, and I’ll make you regret every syllable.” You smiled. Sweet, defiant. 
“What if I want to be punished?” It was too fast. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet. You barely had time to step back before you were gently pushed back against the bed, your body restrained firmly. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 
“You don’t want punishment. You want attention. And you’re begging for it in the most childish way possible.” He growled. “But I’ll give you what you want. Only my way.” He tied you up with leather handcuffs attached to the corners of the bed. There was no rush. He made sure to maintain control over every movement, every touch. The straps tightened just right — security and submission. You bit your lip, already feeling the heat building between your legs, and he laughed mockingly. 
“Look how you look just being restrained... so easy to read. So predictable.” He leaned down to your ear, his voice a whisper full of promise. “And you love it. You love challenging me just so I can bend you.” Scaramouche then slowly removed his blouse, letting you watch — like a small visual punishment. Without being able to touch, without even being able to brush your fingertips. He came closer again, his eyes sparkling, his fingers tracing your exposed body with a sharp caress. 
“You’re going to beg today, you know?” He said, his hand squeezing your thigh firmly. “And I won’t give in until I hear you ask for it. No smiles. No sarcasm. Just you, little  brat, surrendering.” You shivered under his touch, feeling his power wrap around you like an invisible chain. And for the first time that night, you were speechless. He smiled. A victorious smile, dark, hungry. “Good, you finally understand who’s in control here.” 
Scaramouche pulled away just enough to let you feel the emptiness of his absence. The handcuffs forced you to stay exactly where he wanted you — exposed, vulnerable, irritatingly aware of your own arousal. His gaze slid over you like a cruel caress, and the smile that formed on his lips promised no relief, only torment. 
“Did you really think you’d get what you wanted that easily?” He knelt between your legs, his fingertips sliding along the inside of your thigh but never reaching where you needed him most. “Not after all that petulance.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your skin — a touch that was almost chaste, almost pitiful. Almost. You arched your hips, desperate for more, but he pressed his hands against your thighs, keeping you still. 
“Tsk.” His tongue ran a lazy path, too hot and too light at the same time. “So sensitive... Already shaking from that? And you think you’re strong.” You moaned softly, trying to press yourself against him, but the chains wouldn’t let you. And he smiled, cruel and calm. 
“Not until you ask. Not with the boldness from before. I want your real voice. I want your surrender.” He then brought his hand between your legs, running his fingers over your sex without actually touching. Just the heat of the contact hovering there, making you cry out in frustration. Your body begged, throbbed, but he just watched. “Do you really think you’re going to cum before I let you?” He laughed, soft, contempt slipping through every syllable.
“You have no control here. I’m the one who decides when and if you deserve it.” Then he went down again, with his tongue, his fingers. The pleasure flared like fire. You arched, trembling, almost reaching… And he stopped. Nothing. Cold, suddenly. You gasped, desperate. 
“N-no… please, Scara, don’t do this—” He looked at you, and his gaze was pure dominance.
“You’re going to beg for real. You’re going to moan my name and call me master in that sweet little voice. Or you’re going to spend the whole night like this — trembling, wet, and empty.” His finger came back, teasing. Another slow kiss, a warm breath. But it was all superficial. Punishment disguised as affection. And you were already starting to give in. You bit your lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Your entire body ached with need, and yet he hovered there, cruel and serene, as if your suffering was entertainment.
Scaramouche tilted his face, his eyes narrowed in pure delight as he watched you squirm.
“Almost, aren’t you? That cheeky little mouth has lost its power. Where did all that teasing go, hm?”
His fingers slid in again, this time touching exactly where you wanted it most — but only for a second. A warm, lingering touch and then emptiness again. You gasped, sobbing, your hips trying to follow the absent touch. 
“P-Please…”
“Please what?” He murmured, with a satisfied smile. You hesitated, pride throbbing in your chest. But it was useless. You were already defeated.
“Master…” The word escaped in a broken voice. “Please, master… let me cum. I need…”
“Ah…” He sighed with pleasure, as if those words were sweeter than any moan. “Now my little brat knows how to behave.”
He returned with his fingers, his mouth, his body — all at once, without mercy. The touches came fast, intense, too skillful to resist. You moaned loudly, feeling the orgasm build up like a colossal wave. The tension made you tremble, the pleasure bordering on unbearable.
“Cum for me. Now.” He ordered, his voice low and hoarse. “Show me who you belong to.” And you broke: your body buckled, the chains rattling with the force of your climax. A hoarse cry escaped your lips, his name lost between sobs and moans. He held you tightly, whispering praise, guiding each spasm of your body. 
“Look at you… So beautiful, begging and cumming like this, all mine…” When the tremor passed, you could barely breathe. But his smile said he wasn’t done with you yet. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson… let’s see how many more times you can obey.”
Wriothesley 
Breeding kink, praise kink. (Fem!Reader) 
There’s something about the way Wriothesley watches you that goes beyond lust. It’s control, care, and such a genuine desire to see you rendition to him — completely vulnerable — that makes it impossible not to surrender to him.
When he praises you, his voice is low, gravelly, almost a whisper as he explores your body with caresses, touches, and kisses. His cock brushes against the folds of your sex, which is crying out to receive him after so much teasing, but penetration doesn’t happen — he continues using the tip of his cock to stimulate your hard, swollen clit, occasionally putting just the tip inside you, but never penetrating you completely. Your sanity was running out. You needed him, you needed him to fill you, stretch you, mark you as his.
“Wriothesley… please!” You moaned in frustration, your hands gripping his biceps, your nails digging into the skin. “Fuck me already.”
“Patience… Didn’t you say you’d be a good girl for me?” His words silenced your desperation — you wanted his approval, his praise — even if it meant your frustration would only grow. You nodded, biting your lip and leaning your head back against the pillow as you felt your orgasm approaching. It was almost strange how just the act of grinding against each other could completely break you. More moans left your lips and he smiled. 
“You’re perfect.” He murmured, thrusting into you without warning, reaching the deepest point inside you in seconds. That was enough to make you cum, your walls contracting against his cock, milking him. “Fuck, always so tight… and so warm…” He pulled you into an urgent kiss, his orgasm approaching as well. 
“Cum inside me…” You begged against his lips, your nails scratching his back, your body jerking against the sheets with every thrust of his hips. “Please, I’ve been a good girl.” 
“You look so beautiful like this, begging for me… Your body knows you belong to me, can you feel it too? It’s begging me to fill you completely, to plant my seed in your womb.”
“I…” You could barely speak, a second orgasm quickly approaching. “I want to feel you stay in me for hours, I want to feel you dripping out of me just so you can fill me up again.”
“So tight, s-so hot…” He bit his lip, his words failing and his eyebrows furrowing, a clear sign that he was about to cum. And he did: hot and deep. Spurt after spurt of his seed invaded your womb, marking you completely as his. “Good girl... My girl. So obedient, so perfect, so… mine.”
Zhongli 
Edging, use of vibrators. (Fem!Reader) 
The room was calm, silent, as if the world had stopped to watch you both. Zhongli always treated pleasure with reverence, as an art that required patience, study and devotion.
You were lying between the silk sheets, your body already covered in a thin layer of sweat, the sheets messy beneath you. Your legs trembled slightly, and your breathing came in ragged pants. The vibrator in your intimacy vibrated in a soft, continuous rhythm — but never enough.
Zhongli was beside you, on his knees, his golden eyes fixed on each of your reactions. His expression was calm, almost solemn. As if he were praying with his eyes, adoring each sigh that left your lips.
"You're doing so well, darling." He murmured, his voice deep and calm, almost a whisper that touched your core. "So sensitive... so obedient."
The vibrator was lightly pressed against your clitoris, and you gasped, your hips arching reflexively. But, as he had done before, he pulled the toy away before your climax. Again. Once more. You moaned in frustration, almost tearful, feeling your own essence drip down your thighs. 
"Zhongli… Please…" Your voice was a raw, trembling plea. He smiled gently, caressing your face with his fingertips, as if you were made of porcelain.
"Patience, my dear. Pleasure must be built, polished… almost like a rare jewel." He slid the vibrator over you again, this time with a light circular motion, unhurriedly. "When I allow it, it will be the kind of pleasure that will completely break you. Isn't that what you want?"
You whimpered in response, feeling every inch of your body tremble under the touch of the toy and his words. The moans came low, almost desperate, your mind clouded between torment and ecstasy. And he watched, mesmerized by how beautiful you were as you lost control for him. And then he finally whispered those words against your ear. 
“Come for me…” You knew you were lost — and at the same time, exactly where you wanted to be. 
The permission came as a blessing, and you came hard, your body arching in pure bliss. The sounds that escaped your lips were hoarse, beautifully uncontrolled. And Zhongli didn’t look away for a second: he matched every spasm of your body with his firm hands on your thighs, keeping the vibrator gently pressed against your clit even as you shuddered in extreme sensitivity. You gasped, breathless, and yet… yet you wanted more.
“You look so lovely like this.” He murmured, tracing the contour of your belly with his fingertips. “So surrendered… So mine.”
You tried to push the toy away with trembling hands, but he held them easily, his fingers intertwined with yours. His gaze was calm, but there was a spark of raw desire burning behind the gold of his eyes.
“I’m not done with you yet.” And then he turned the vibrator back on — a lower intensity, but focused, insidious, teasing exactly where you were most vulnerable. You let out a sob of pleasure, your body convulsing in immediate response.
“Zhongli… It’s too much, I can’t—”
“Shh…” He leaned down, kissing your lips tenderly. “You can, I know you can. Trust me.”
He knew your body like he knew the stories of every era of Teyvat— deeply, with respect, with adoration. Every pause between moans, every quiver of your muscles, every new limit crossed was memorized by him — memorized with mastery, just like the stories he had once told you.
“You deserve every drop of this pleasure.” He whispered in your ear, as his cock finally replaced the vibrator. “And I will be here to guide you through it.” You whimpered — a beautiful, husky, indecent sound — as your second orgasm came fast, violently, stealing your breath, your strength. But he didn’t stop his thrusts, because Zhongli didn’t love in a hurry. He loved like a god who had all eternity to worship his favorite mortal.
Breeding kink, DD/LG and praise kink. (Fem!Reader)  
The candles cast a soft amber light over the room, dancing over the contours of the antique furniture and heavy curtains. Zhongli was meticulous even in his intimate moments — everything around him seemed carefully prepared to make you feel adored. And it worked.
You lay between the silk sheets, your breath held as he knelt between your legs, his golden eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made your entire body shiver. 
He leaned forward, his hands firm on your thighs, spreading heat wherever he touched. “You’re perfect like this, you know that?” His voice was deep, sweet, enveloping like a balm. “So receptive, so mine… Just like the good little girl you are.” His kisses began softly, almost reverently, on your abdomen, then below your navel, until he was inside you again — slowly, deeply, filling you as if each movement meant more than just physical pleasure. 
“Zhongli, please…” You whimpered, your hands finding their way to his back. 
"You drive me crazy." He murmured against your neck, his thrusts deep and slow, his hips pressed against yours as if he wanted to merge the two of you into one body. "Every time I feel you like this, so hot, so tight... All I can think about is filling you to the last drop." Your moans were interrupted only by the words he whispered in your ear, between kisses and caresses that left your skin on fire. 
"I’ve been thinking about fucking a baby into you…" Zhongli brushed his lips against your ear. “Every single day, every now and then, I catch myself thinking about knocking you up, making you round with my child, tying your soul to mine because of our heir…” His thrusts became more rapid, almost violent as he continued his monologue. “Would you like me to do so, my girl?” Your eyes widened — you suspected he had some kind of breeding kink, but having him finally admit it… it made your heart warm up in adoration.
“I’ll happily nurture your heir inside my womb.” You reassured him. 
"You deserve to be praised, adored… You deserve to be filled with me, like the good girl you are." You felt him grip your waist, keeping you in place, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t disappear. The pleasure was intense, pulsating — and he knew exactly how to handle every second of it. "Atta girl... Just like that, love, you're taking me so good.” 
“Daddy… I’m…” That name slipped from your lips unintentionally, and you felt aroused by it. You had never called him that, even though you fulfilled the role of being his little girl. “I’m so close, please, daddy… Cum inside of me.” 
When he finally reached his limit, his moan was muffled against your skin. His orgasm provoked yours: your cunt convulsing around his cock, milking every last drop of his cum out of him, the contractions of your walls helping his seed reach deep inside of you, invading your womb without warning. 
The silence that followed the climax was thick and full of meaning. Zhongli didn’t pull away immediately — instead, he remained above you, his body still entwined with yours, his fingers slowly tracing your waist, as if he wanted to memorize every curve again.
Your breathing was irregular, your eyes half closed as you felt the heat of his body mixed with yours. There was still the sensation of his semen inside you, hot and abundant, as he had promised.  
The kiss he placed on your forehead was slow, like a seal of care. Zhongli then pulled out of you calmly, carefully observing your reactions, as if any discomfort you felt was a crime he would never forgive himself for committing. He lowered his gaze to where your bodies separated, and the sight made him let out a heavy sigh — satisfied, possessive, enchanted. And even breathless, he still whispered with possessive caress:
“Look at you…” He murmured, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh, where his cum dripped lazily. “So full of me…”
You moaned softly, shuddering at his touch, and Zhongli smiled. A small smile, but full of tenderness. He rested his forehead on yours, his nose lightly brushing against yours, before murmuring in the softest voice you had ever heard as his fingertips caressed the skin of your lower bell in an instinctive, protective way. 
“You make me want a future.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. “With you. With the two of you.” 
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celestiamour · 6 months ago
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MEOW MEOW MEOW SE-MI SMUT X F!READER PLL,ZZPLZLZZ IM ON MY KNEES PLZ
ft. han se-mi x f! reader — squid game
╰₊✧ an examination of piercings turns into something more┊0.8k words
contains: smut!! dom se-mi & sub reader┊tongue piercing, receiving oral, one mention of needles, innocent reader, se-mi is older & called “unnie”
➤ author's note: glad to see the girls getting just as much love as the boys in my inbox
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“did they hurt?” you asked, gently holding your friend’s face in your hands and admiring her like a newly discovered painting from the renaissance era. it was mesmerizing how the light shone off the metal, and you couldn’t stop staring, even going as far as to run your finger over the little star of her nose piercing in awe without thinking. it was so damn cute how fascinated you seemed to be by these decisions she made nearly a decade ago in her teenage years.
normally, se-mi wouldn’t have let anyone put their hands on her and would probably punch them if they went anywhere near her face. yet here she sat in her bed allowing herself to be adored by you. she wondered if this was how cats felt when being coddled by their owners, the spoiled white persian kinds you see in movies with diamond collars and more toys than what they know to do with. “no, it was just like a pinch.”
“i couldn’t imagine that— having a needle pierce my skin, i mean,” you shivered. “my ears were pierced when i was a baby, but even then, they’re a little crooked because i wouldn’t stop crying.”
she giggled at the thought of it. “it’s not the needle that’s painful, it’s the healing process. the days after i got my tongue pierced were the worst, i couldn’t eat for days.”
“you have a tongue piercing?”
humming to confirm, she cheekily stuck out her tongue to show off the metal pierced through the muscle, even flexing it to flaunt the jewelry. it was extremely amusing to see how flustered you were becoming even though you tried not to show it.
“why did you get it pierced when it’s not even visible all the time?”
“cause it feels good for…”
“feels good for what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head in a way that made her want to eat you alive.
“well… it’s kinda hard to explain, but i could show you if you like…”
you didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was talking about at first until you found yourself flipped on your back with your shorts dragged to your ankles along with your panties and her head in between your shaking thighs, sliding her hot tongue between your folds and savoring the taste collecting on her palette. this wasn’t something best friends did, but you made no attempt to push her away and allowed her to do as she pleased.
“s-se-mi unnie…” you whined out, fingers finding and tangling with her dark locks yet also doing the contradictory action of wiggling your hips away. you’ve never felt this way before, knots twisting in your stomach and fire spreading under your skin as you try to wiggle away from the foreign sensation that felt too good to be real.
“ah, ah, ah, don’t run from me, you taste so fucking sweet.” her grip on your legs tightened as she pulled you closer to her, swirling the cold pierced metal across your throbbing clit and enjoying your moans like music. “i wish we had done this sooner, don’t you? god, i don’t think i could ever get enough now that i’m here.”
you couldn’t even verbalize a proper answer with nothing but pathetic whimpers falling from your mouth, eyes flickering between her and the ceiling as they rolled back with tears threatening to drip down the waterline. did things like this always feel so good, or was se-mi simply an expert who knew your body better than you did yourself with age and experience? silly little questions you would ponder if you weren’t getting your brains fucked out by just her tongue, making her wonder in return how you would handle taking her strap when you were already going crazy like this. (you have no idea how long she’s been fantasizing about having you like this, sitting in this very bed thinking about your soft skin and lips against hers with her hand crammed in her pants.)
“fucckk, ‘m gonna- ngh!!” god, you didn’t know the word to match your oncoming orgasm, you just knew a peak was about to be reached thanks to her talented tongue.
“you’re gonna cum baby,” she chuckled. “don’t be scared, just let yourself go for me.”
suddenly her plush lips wrapped around your delicate pearl and sucked hard, and like activating a button, you cried out in pleasure and unraveled all over her face, back arched and hands tugging on her hair. she gladly licked up the messy remnants with a smirk, proud to have made you climax in less than five minutes.
“you did soooo good for me baby,” she drawled and pressed a few sloppy kisses on your twitching cunt as a reward, “think you can give me one more?”
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moesthoughts · 1 month ago
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GUESS
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you want to guess the color of my underwear
natalie scatorccio is confident she can guess what color underwear you’re wearing. (thank you for 400!!)
warnings ➥ semi public sex, smut with plot, orgasm denial, lowkey pervert nat, fwb, pre crash, reader is on the team
Practice has been rough, after playing for what feels like hours you are finally benched. You crash onto the seat and sink into the metal. You’re hot, annoyed, and tired. Coach Scott has been relentless with practicing since going to nationals relies on winning your next game. You happen to be a good player on the team, but you won’t be able to play well if you’re constantly overworked. You throw your head back and take a deep breath, trying to regain the oxygen you lost from running that much.
Another whistle comes, a soft groan escapes from your lips, and you expect to be thrown right back on the field. A wave of relief washes over you when he waves the other group of girls over instead, and you return to your state of rest. You adjust yourself when someone plops down next to you, rather close. You know it’s your best friend, Nat. No one else nuzzles right up to you when benched, you look over to her, your eyebrows knitted together since you are exhausted. Of course, she notices your discomfort straight away.
“Who pissed in your cereal?”
She questions you, nudging you with her shoulder. You can tell she’s worried, she also knows how much you’re overworked on the field since you complain about it so much. You think about not answering and taking the time that you have to rest and regain your stamina. You can’t just ignore Nat though, especially since she’s expressing her concern.
“I’m just so fucking tired, I want to leave so bad.”
You reply, returning to your original position. Nat hums in response. She notices how much you’re put on the field, more than Taissa who’s a beast at soccer, that’s very impressive to her. She understands that she’d be upset too if she was playing that much.
“So.. Why not leave for a bit? Have some fun for once in your fucking life.”
You look at her in disbelief, Coach will absolutely kill you if you left in the middle of practice, no matter how exhausted you are. Still, Nat seems so sure about bailing on practice. So many thoughts ran through your head, of course your brain tells you not to, but the aching your body is going through tells you to go for it. You sit up and let out a sigh, a little fun wouldn’t hurt.
“Screw it.”
Nat instantly smiles and stands up, she drags you to your feet. You can’t believe you’re actually doing this, feeding into your friend’s bad choices. Though, adrenaline runs through your veins as you hear Nat tell Laura Lee that you’re about to throw up, just “incase coach is worried”. You bite back a smile as you fold over, pretending to gag.
As soon as you get to the locker room you straighten your poster, laughter spilling out of your mouth. For the first time in a month you actually feel alive, even if it’s due to skipping practice. You’re having fun, that’s all that matters. Nat eyes you, a sly smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She comes closer to you, so close that you have to press yourself against a locker so that you have space. Her hands rest on your shoulders. You understand what she meant by “fun” back at the bench, the look she was giving you even back there. Yes, you’re tired. But you can’t ignore the flame being ignited in your core.
“Nat..”
You whisper out, your hands instinctively reaching for hips. Nat gives you a look that turns you into putty, the confidence she has making you even more nervous than you were before.
“What? I thought you wanted to have fun, pretty girl.”
“…Here?”
Nat rolls her eyes and presses her lips against yours, her hands changing to press you against the lockers instead of just resting on your shoulders. She whines into the kiss, already needy. You’ve been needing an escape all day, all worked up from school and now soccer practice. Nat read you like a book, she knows what you want, and she’s very willing to give it you. Your hands travel up to her hair, your fingers entangling in her brunette roots, she softly moans, pressing onto you more. Her lips leave yours, leaving you both panting. For once, you thought you get a break. You’re wrong. She’s already hooking her fingers under your pants, tugging on them gently.
“I bet I can guess what color underwear you’re wearing.”
She barely speaks above a whisper, her tone more confident than ever. She obviously knows what she’s doing to you, she wants you flustered, shy. She relishes the sight of your face turning bright red, and how your eyes are looking everywhere but at her. She grabs your chin with a smirk plastered on her face, you bite your lip nervously.
“..Oh yeah?”
You’re a stuttering mess, folding completely at how well she’s with her words. Usually there’s playful banter, but you’re completely vulnerable. Nat has you in the palm of her hand. She leans forward, her lips brushing against your ear.
“Well, I already know. Those lacey white panties we got at the mall, right? the ones with the little bow. I saw it when you leaned over.”
A shiver goes up your spine, listening to her words, her tone thick as honey. Before you can even open your mouth to answer her, Nat drops down onto her knees, tugging down your clothes with her. She licks up your slit, kissing your clit. You arch into her mouth so she could have more access to you. You’re already a whimpering mess, gasping at her tongue swirling around your clit. She loves how you taste, and how willing you are to let her eat you out. Her mouth latches onto your clit, softly sucking on your bud. You groan, grinding into her mouth.
“Fuck, Nat..”
You mutter, your fingers entangling in her hair once again. She licks up your wetness, tasting everything she can. Her tongue slips inside of you going at a steady pace, her hand holds your hip in place, wanting you to stay still for her. She drinks in every moan that comes from you. Nat’s so turned on, from how pretty you’re being, the thought of someone walking in at any moment, she wants to escape to your room so badly, makeout with you until you both pass out, taste you even more, grind against you. Right before you can reach an orgasm she pulls away, you whine loudly, tears pricking at your eyes. She stands back up and latches onto your neck, sucking and biting, definitely leaving marks in her wake. She replaces her mouth with her fingers, pumping in and out of you so fast you can’t keep up with her pace.
Finally, you cum around her fingers. She groans into your neck, riding out your orgasm. Nat pulls out, licking your juices from her fingers. You both gasp as you hear the door to the locker room open, Nat quickly pulls up your pants and forces you to sit down. You lean over, trying your best to seem like you just threw up. Her hands rubs your back, mock comforting you. As the footsteps approach, Jackie appears from behind the lockers, seeming displeased with you both.
“Where have you— Is she okay??”
Jackie instantly becomes worried, taking a seat next to you. Her hand rests on your shoulder, rubbing circles with her thumb. You feel absolutely horrible tricking her like this, just so you both can get away with having sex in the locker room. Thankfully you look like a hot mess from the previous events, making it look like you’re sick.
“Yeah, she puked. I think I should take her home, or something.”
Nat babbles, making up a cover story on the spot. You nod, hugging you stomach while slowly rocking. Jackie sighs, before encouraging you both to go home. Nat gives her a satisfied smile before helping you up, her arm wrapping around your shoulder. She guides you towards the exit of the room, wearing a proud look on her face.
“We’ll continue when we get to your house.”
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THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS I AM BEYOND GRATEFUL!! You all have been so sweet and I’m so lucky to have each and every one of you. 🤍 I hope you enjoy this little fic I wrote as a treat, I LIVE YOU GUYS!!!
req me!
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shadowlord420sgf · 5 days ago
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⟡ ݁₊ . You Always Come Back (right?)
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✮⋆˙ xxXshadowl0rd420Xxx | skips x reader .⋆♱
⌗ summary: Skips can't stop wondering if you'll leave him for good. So, he pulls you close and makes you promise- over and over again- that you're his forever …
⌗ warnings!: female reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, shameless smut with feelings, possessive and clingy skips, SLIGHT mention of stalking/mastrubation, creampie, porn with no plot basically, established relationship …
⌗ author’s note: hi guys can you tell I don’t write a lot lmao + this is crossposted on my ao3 ! (the format is better there imo)
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No matter how much you tried to tell him, Skips wouldn’t believe you. He couldn’t. Not when you’d leave him every morning, and only visit him at night. It hurt him. It physically hurt so badly that he wanted you, needed you, but could never keep you with him. “Skips, it’s fine,” you tried your best to assure him. “For you it is!” He cried, “Every time you leave me I have to wonder if you’ll even come back.” It pained you to see him like this, how his brows knit together in sorrow, all at the fault of your own.
“Why do you have to go in the morning? Why…Why can’t you just be a shadow and stay with me? ” He begged, noticeably closer to you now. “Skips…” you started, running your fingers through his long black hair, to which he groaned softly. “We both know it’s not that simple.” You whispered, trying to get him to understand on any level.
Before you could say another word, he pulled you in for a kiss. Merely a peck before he stammered, “Fuck- I’m sorry. I just…you’re so—” You shut him up by pressing your lips to his, deeper. One that set off whatever was spewing inside the two of you all this time. He groans into your mouth, low and needy, like he’s been starving for this (he has). His hands hold your face ever so gently, before moving lower and lower…Down your neck, shoulders, gripping at your hips. You can feel his heart beating against your own chest. Fuck.
A string of saliva connects your mouths as you’re forced to pull away for air. By now, you and Skips are panting hard, holding onto each other like your lives fucking depend on it. “My penumbra…” Skips mutters, and you sigh. That name always did it somehow. A whine escapes your throat on its own and Skips chuckles. His lips are on yours again, tongue roughly exploring your mouth as you both rush to take off your clothes.
Once you’re left bare, Skips pupils are blown wide and you swear he swallows his drool. “Just look at you, penumbra. The most beautiful woman alive.” Oh god, you couldn’t possibly have gotten wetter at his words. Skips brings his hand down to your sex, barely ghosting a finger at your slit. Your back arched as you whimpered, “Oh fuck, Skips please . I need you.” His hips bucked ever so slightly as he choked out a, “Say it again- please, please say it again for me.” Who were you to deny his sweet begging? “Ah- I need it, Skips, I need you. Need you inside me now pleasepleaseplease,”
With that, he thrusted into you with the greatest sound you’d ever heard in your life. “You’re—mnh— so f-fucking tight.. all for me, huh?” He moans and lets out a little shaky laugh, like he’s almost in disbelief of how incredible you always feel. You gasped beneath him, grinding your hips like you’re still so desperate for more, before mewling out, “Shit… Skips, please move— c-come on,”
You didn’t need to tell him twice. He pushes into you unbelievablely deeper, relishing at the way you hissed in the amazing pain of the stretch. “Ngh— my penumbra,” he pants, thrusting in and out of you before leaning down to kiss you once again. He swears he could actually die on your lips, tasting you, feeling you like this. “You’re mine , mmf… say it.” he whispers against your lips, and you nod hard, strings of yesyes,imyours,pleasedontstop leaving your lips.
“I’ll never let you go, you’ll be my penumbra forever,” he sighs into your neck, although you’re not sure if he’s telling you or convincing himself that. That didn’t matter. The only thing that seemed to matter was how warm and wet you were inside, how intimately he made love to you, how mesmerizing it looked between where your two bodies connected. “You feel.. so good.. Like you’re just made for this, made for me .” He practically pleaded. Oh, Skips. Why, why must it be this way?
You’re knocked out of your thoughts by Skips’ hand reaching down where you united, rubbing your clit in gentle circles. You squirm and moan hotly at the sensation, hands tangling in his hair, nails dragging down his back, like you don’t know where to put them— and you don’t, because you need to touch him everywhere. Where had he learned to do something like that? Probably when he watches you, when you think you’re all alone, late at night, hand sliding under your waistband as you make the sweetest sounds— which is unimportant at the moment…
Skips thrusts become sloppier, his pace uneven. Your heart fluttered at the way he moaned your name, just a little higher. Fuck, you knew what this meant and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Penumbra— I’m gonna come, fuck , I’m gonna come inside you, where it belongs,” He tells you, “ Come with me.. please, ” As if Skips commanded it himself, you feel the knot of pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach, getting harder to hold back until—
Fuck. Skips comes in you, hard, like— he’s trying to get you pregnant or something. You cry out as your orgasm comes crashing with his, creating a gushing mess between you. He pants and desperately whines your name as he makes sure to fuck all of his seed into you. You writhe under him, absolutely fucked out, seeing stars.
All that can be heard is your panting and his ragged breathing. It's beyond intimate, how you two hold each other in the softest way. “I love you, Skips. Okay? We’re both trying our best here.” You assured him with a kiss. Skips pulls you closer to him and sighs, “I love you too.”
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fixated-cookies · 2 months ago
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nghghgh all i can think about is jealous pure vanilla + fucking the jealousy out </33 I NEED him so bad it's not even fair </33
my brain exploded writing this MDNI
It all started with a simple, elegant interaction.
A visiting noble from the neighboring Vanilla region—a refined gentleman Cookie with a sugar-dusted mustache and far too much charm—took your hand delicately in his gloved fingers. He bowed. Gracefully. Classically.
Pressed his lips to your knuckles.
And praised you.
“A blossom as rare as you should not be kept in the shade. You deserve to be adored in full sunlight.”
His voice was a murmur. Gentle. Flattering. Appropriate.
And yet…
You felt Pure Vanilla Cookie's gaze before you even turned your head. That soft presence, that warmth—he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t said a word.
You didn’t notice the way his eyes opened fully for once. You didn’t see the twitch of something dark behind the gold and blue.
Later. Behind the closed doors of your shared quarters. It’s silent.
You try to speak, maybe even joke.
He cuts you off gently.
“Did you enjoy it?”
The question is simple. Soft. Utterly terrifying.
You blink. “Wh-what?”
His hands are so tender, cupping yours. His smile is there, but it's tighter. His fingers stroke the spot where that noble’s lips had touched.
“The kiss. The compliment. His voice, his hands. Was it sweet? Was it sweeter than mine?”
You try to reassure him, but the look in his eyes is… shattering. The crack in that ever-composed mask. That trembling silence of a man who has never known fury like this before.
He kisses your hand—slow, deliberate, lingering.
“I’m going to kiss you everywhere he didn’t.”
Another kiss. Higher on your wrist. Then your elbow. Your throat.
“And then…” he murmurs, voice dropping like honey off a spoon, “…I’m going to fuck the idea of him out of you.”
His trembling hands glide over your body as if in worship. The silken robes he always wears are discarded with less grace than usual. There’s something raw behind his movements tonight. No pomp. No ceremony. No soft-spoken control.
Only him. Only his need.
He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your chest—but he’s quiet. Not speaking. His lips shake against your skin, like he’s biting down words he’s too ashamed to say aloud.
Until he finally breaks.
“I try,” he whispers, voice cracking like old glass. “I try to be enough for you. I try to be patient. Gentle. Good.”
His forehead presses to your collarbone. He’s breathing hard, body trembling with restrained hunger. He’s always been the composed one. The light. The guide.
But tonight, he’s just a man. A man who aches.
“But when I saw him touch you—” He swallows, painfully. “—I realized something awful. I’m not kind because I’m holy.” “I’m kind because I’m terrified of losing you.”
He raises his head. His eyes are open again. Fully. Shining. Tears glitter along his lashes, but he doesn’t look away.
“Tell me you love me.” “Not out of pity. Not out of mercy.” “Tell me you choose me.”
Your hand cups his cheek. And that’s all it takes.
His control snaps. --
He moans—quiet and high, like he’s been holding it back for centuries—and presses into you with aching need. Every thrust is deep, and slow, and so reverent it hurts. He’s whispering your name like a chant, his hands shaking as they clutch your waist, your hips, your throat.
“Only you,” he gasps. “Only you make me feel this. This—alive.”
He sobs into your neck when you wrap your legs around him, desperate to be closer, to be claimed.
“Please, please, let me stay like this… Let me give you everything.”
Your name falls from his lips over and over. His body is pressed so close you feel him in your soul—warmth and light and need all fused into one, driven to ruin by you.
Your fingers dig into his back as he rocks into you with trembling control—each thrust slow, deep, meaningful, but growing sloppier by the second. His golden hair hangs in his face, sweat beading at his temple, his mouth hanging open in breathless awe.
"You're—" he gasps, voice rasping, "you're perfect... You always are... I can't—"
He leans in, lips brushing yours but not kissing—just hovering, like he's afraid a kiss would make him come undone completely. But the way you're clutching at him, the way your hips meet his with every thrust... he's faltering.
“Look at me.”
His voice sharpens, firmer than you’ve ever heard it. A rare break in his soft tone.
“Please... don't look away. I want to see your eyes—when I give you everything.”
Your gaze meets his—and he shudders. His hips jerk. His rhythm falters.
And then he’s gone.
“Ah—! I—!”
The cry rips from his throat as he spills into you with a broken moan, his entire body convulsing from the force of it. “Mmh—hnngh—y-you’re mine—mine—mine—” he babbles, chest pressed to yours, hips still twitching as he pulses deep inside, his magic glowing faintly between your joined bodies.
His hands claw at the sheets beside your head, trying not to crush you beneath him as he empties himself—years of restraint, love, jealousy, everything poured into one desperate release. He groans your name again, a low, reverent chant that sounds like a man praying in tongues.
And he doesn't stop moving. He keeps grinding into you, gently, slowly, like he’s trying to push it deeper. Like he thinks he can bury it inside your heart.
His lips find your cheek, your temple, your shoulder—"I love you, I love you, I love you"—whispered between panting, dizzy gasps.
When his body finally stops shaking, he collapses forward, still buried in you, forehead resting against your chest.
“Forgive me,” he breathes, kissing your skin. “I just... I needed to know I was yours. I needed to feel it. To fill you.”
And there’s so much of him inside. Warm. Sticky. Claiming.
And he’s not pulling out.
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celuere · 4 months ago
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New to this whole requesting stuff and leaving this b4 i forget but here goes nothing, sorry for the language. You work as arlecchino's maid in a mansion except everyone absolutely fears her, and here you are on her lap with dick/strap inside you scared for your life
I swear to you that sounded so much better in my head BELEIVE ME
help me get away from myself.
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pairing: vampire!arlecchino x fem!maid reader
cw: bloodsucking, cockwarming, arle‘s fat dick, kinda forbidden relationship, no actual plot arle is just a horny fuck for you
anon i allowed myself to add a little extra to your request because vampire arle with her human maid... oh i’m SOLD. also kinda shirt but i really like this nonetheless, will probably be making a lil nasty series out of this… please go wild about this in my inbox. ignore the request break. just throw them at me.
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thursday 3pm: dust off lord arlecchino‘s study.
that was your task. one might think it couldn’t get any easier than that. 
she was by no means an easy person and there was barely a subordinate or one of her children who didn’t fear and/or respects her. 
but trying to do your job turned out extremely difficult when you were sat down on your lord‘s dick as she buries her fangs into your neck. 
„m-my lord-”, you couldn’t help but press yourself closer against her, wanting a bit of comfort to the stinging sensation that spread like a wildfire over your shoulder.
she only hummed against your skin, a low moan getting swallowed up from her side at your sweet taste. cursed hands coming up to further strip you of your already messed up attire, freeing your beautiful tits and rubbing her index fingers over your hardened nipples.
it only contributed to how tightly you were clenching around your master’s cock you were nestled onto. like a doll she was keeping in place. 
she slowly let go of your burning skin, letting the blood run down your perked up tits before staining the fabric of your dress „you‘re tasting particularly sweet today, my dove…“, she leaned in before you felt her tongue gliding over your dirtied skin and savoring the crimson fluid. you tasted like salvation and sin at once. the forbidden fruit she wasn’t allowed to have. mocking her lack in self discipline. an ancient vampire- a vampire turned by her majesty herself- unable to keep her hands off of the sweet human maid that stumbled into her mansion a few months back. poor you was merely looking for a shelter from the rainy weather. you didn‘t plan on becoming your lord‘s pretty little bloodbank. her very own sanctuary. but the tip of her dick oh so gently pressing against your cervix wasn‘t exactly helping you to feel at least a little humiliation from your decision. you choose to stay here after all.
her fangs suddenly piercing the soft flesh of your right tit caused you to yelp, hips buckling into her as you watched arlecchino suck on your breast for all you were worth. the other hand resting on your thigh was now digging its nails into your muscle, trying to somehow fuse her very being with your poor soul. you didn’t know how much more your pussy could take like this with how arlecchino was practically moaning into your breast.
usually the lord was a feared figure within the fatui ranks. the clan was known for their ruthless agenda, yet its leader was kind right down to the bone. arlecchino forgot the details of her mortal life long ago, but something about the fragile mortal taking her cock while allowing her done on her crimson nectar. she was absolutely besotted with you.
the metallic taste spreading over her tongue with each gulp made her feel… alive. she forgot what it felt like. to feel. to be able to look at herself in the mirror. to be human. 
to be weak.
you tried pulling away when she started taking bigger gulps of you. her grip no longer desperate but almost hurtful. 
arlecchino often debated wether she should kill you or not. to leave you alive meant leaving a weakness in her profile. a weakness she couldn’t allow to influence her.
but who would suspect the knave having a soft spot for the mortal maid she kept hushing around like a dog?
the soft plea for her to let go of you pushed her out of her thoughts and surprisingly… she obliged. retreating her fangs from your flesh before pressing a soft kiss to your wounded skin, your consciousness was hanging by a simple thread. a thread she loved playing with. wether it by having you pump your fingers in and out that greedy cunt or watching you strip in front of her. she always found new ways to entertain herself with you.
just when she wanted to open her mouth, the soft knock against the door to her study reached your ears „my lord, some letters have arrived for you.“
your heart rate picked up and suddenly warming your master‘s cock seemed like a horrible idea to you but the hand resting on your ass kept you firmly pressed down on her shaft. she only clicked her tongue in slight annoyance.
„not now. i have…“, two fingers delicately rubbed over your already hard nipple before pinching it. you barely managed to cover up the yelp.
„important business to tend to.“, the corners of her lips quirked up at her wording. that terrified look amused her way more than she‘d like to admit. 
„mh… did you really think i‘d just… let him come in?“, the black hand palming your behind was now gently tapping against your skin. she wanted you to start moving.
your mind was still hazy from her huge blood intake, but you were still the master of your senses enough to stay put on her aching dick.
„a-ah… m-maybe… i-i wasn’t sure…“
„now, now… i have no desire to show you off to the world while you’re riding me senseless.“, the woman leaned back in her chair, legs seemingly spreading wider as the red crosses in the void of her eyes lit up, „get to bouncing, pet.“
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angellic4l · 5 months ago
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nine lives - d.m
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in which; derek gets injured in the field and fem!reader isn’t happy with him.
content; tw! derek has bruises from bullets, kinda graphic desc(?), nicknames (doll, sugar, ma'am, etc,), cocky!derek x annoyed!reader, inaccuracies i’m sure but who cares, derek's abs, jj cockblocks(?) i suppose.
a/n; @darkmatilda requested this everybody say thank you matilda! i’ve been slacking w posting but my wips hate me apparently. kisses! wc: 1.9k
A sickly feeling still resided in your stomach. Your head was throbbing with the constant bombardment of ‘what if?’ and a million ways the situation could’ve been avoided. This and the three distinct crashes of go bags hitting oak desks, similar to that of three gunshots - at least in your addled brain - were enough to tell you that the irritation that’s been brewing was definitely still residing.
He’d been hurt in the field.
The thought almost made you gag, the anger overpowering, consuming every part of your body until you did something about it. It felt like it was begging you to purge it, cleanse it from your body, and god did you want to. However, the more logical part of you knew that throwing up wouldn’t make the frustration go away, wouldn’t stop the onslaught of worst case scenarios in your mind’s eye. The only thing it would serve for is making you feel even worse.
Opening one of the wooden desk drawers, you take out a water bottle and guzzle almost half of it down. In the midst of all of the stress and chaos, water was the least of your priorities. From across the room, a pair of eyes can be felt tracking you, watching each and every move you make. Against your better judgement, your head snapped up to see who it was.A futile action; you had already known that it was Derek staring at you but, since the incident, you’d made it a point to avoid him. Unfortunately for you, instincts had taken over a few moments ago and now the awkward jet ride had been in vain.
Realistically, you were aware that being mad at somebody for getting shot at wasn’t particularly logical, but you couldn’t help it, and so you’d kept your distance from Morgan. In place of your usual banter on the jet was an unusual silence, your ears were void of the usual 90’s hip-hop/R&B that came with him sharing his headphones with you, and he wasn’t warming your side with his usual presence because you’d sat away from him.
Familiar voices snap you both out of the staring contest that had started to ensue, your mind quickly recognising them as Reid and Penelope’s.
“He what?” Penelope gasped, manicured hands slapping over her mouth instantaneously.
In response, Spencer’s face had fallen flat, lips pressing into a thin line, signalling he’d probably just let something slip that wasn’t already common knowledge. Clearly, he’d just accidentally informed Penelope about Derek’s incident out in the field.
“Reid,” Morgan chided, before turning his attention to the blonde who stood in front of him now, “Baby girl, I’m okay. See? Still alive and breathin’.”
“But you… And the… Oh God,” Penelope stopped and started, trailing off before starting another thought. Whether it was because she was overwhelmed by the news or didn’t want to say the words out loud, you weren’t too sure.
Watching the whole ordeal from your desk only intensified the completely unreasonable anger you felt, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Derek’s soothing murmurs to Penelope faded into the background as the different outcomes of today played in your head.
Derek had been shot at, standard for a field agent of course, but the bullets had hit him. If it wasn’t for his vest, he would be in the hospital right now. All because he’d taken a chance and trusted a deranged psychopath to put down his weapon at the hands of the FBI. God, the overwhelming urge to smack some sense into Derek Morgan only grew as you thought about the situation, how he hadn’t waited for back up, how he’d lowered his weapon without so much as an ounce of hesitation.
The opinions you harboured on the matter weren’t fair; you weren’t there, you don’t know what had actually happened, however any and all logic was proving to be out of depth in the cauldron of agitation that had been brewing since you’d been told what had happened. You knew that it wasn’t fair to blame him. You also knew that this response definitely came from fear rather than actually being mad at him, but acknowledging that meant opening up the door for something else entirely. Some things were better left untouched, in your opinion.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Based on the terribly sluggish nature of everybody’s movements and the slow ticking of the clock looming over the room, it was obvious that nobody wanted to be at work. In full fairness, it wasn’t usual to stay at the bureau after returning from a case, but the case had wrapped up quicker than expected. Hotch had announced on the jet that Strauss had ‘asked’ if it were a possibility. You figured it was to make up for the hotel rooms they’d prepaid for, what with the new budget cuts.
After what felt like the umpteenth time you’d caught yourself staring at Derek and watching him wince in pain, you chewed the inside of your cheek while standing up and making your way over to his desk. The bullpen was free from the team; Hotch and Rossi were in their offices, as was JJ, Reid was off in Penelope’s ‘lair’, and Prentiss was in the kitchenette making coffee. By the time you’d reached Derek’s desk, you were sure you’d be missing half of your cheek with the vice-like grip your premolars had on it.
Once you were fairly certain that opening your mouth wouldn’t be followed by an onslaught of swear words or beratement, you spoke to Morgan for the first time in hours.
“Come with me.”
“You tryin’ to kidnap me, doll? If you want me that bad, you can just say so,” he teases, attempting a soft snicker at his own joke before wincing in pain slightly.
“No. Just stop being cocky and listen for once, Derek.”
For a few moments, he leaves you standing in front of his desk, waiting for a response, and feeling like an absolute idiot. Finally, he gives you a look - accompanied by a small shrug of one shoulder - that simply reads as ‘touche’ and then he’s rising from his seat. Schooling your expression to keep it impassive as you turn to lead the way, silently relieved that he’s actually cooperating with you, you remain silent as you keep walking with Derek behind you.
Just down the hall from the bullpen and the other offices the BAU consists of, there’s a small, beige, forgotten infirmary room that nobody ever uses for its original intention. That changes today, you suppose. As Derek shuts the door behind himself, he opens his mouth after taking in the secluded room and the examination table that could double as a bed, but you beat him to it.
“Sit down, Morgan.”
“Sugar, you are desperate for it, huh?”
“Sit. Down.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Yes ma’am,” before sitting on the bed of green plastic covered with a thin sheet of paper.
With Derek finally sat down, you open one of the dusty cupboards and pull out one of the 15 (you counted them once) first aid kits in there before turning back to face Morgan and placing it to the left of him. Unclipping the green, plastic case and opening it up causes one of Morgan’s eyebrows to raise.
“What’s that for, sugar?”
“You. I know you’re in pain and not saying anything.”
Your tone is firm, facial expression showing nothing but exasperation with him so, he relents with a sigh before grabbing the hem of his grey t-shirt and pulling it up so that you can tend to his wounds. At the sight of his bare skin, abs exposed to you and all, your heart rate picks up and the room feels like it’s getting warmer by the minute.
“Stupid decision, by the way,” you add in a murmur, praying to whatever is out there that he can’t tell how much his chiseled torso is affecting you.
“Mama, I’m just fine. Really,” he insists, but you’re already digging through the first aid box.
Remembering what he’d been told to do by paramedics, to keep the bruises cool and wrapped, you reach for one of the ice packs in the first aid kit. Before activating it, your hand hesitantly moves towards the wrapped section of his midriff to expose the bruised skin beneath it.
Morgan hisses slightly when your finger brushes a bruise rather than the white cloth, the sound causing you to retract your hand as if he had hurt you and not the other way around. You mumble a small sorry and return your attention to the ice pack next to him, picking it up and activating it with a cracking noise.
“This gonna hurt?”
“Not as much as getting shot at.”
“What was that for?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
By now, you’re pressing the ice pack lightly to the area of injury, barely any space between the two of you as he sits on the examining table with you standing in between his legs. Your gaze finally meets his - probably a good thing, you conclude, because staring at his abs any longer might’ve made you melt - eye contact unwavering.
“Don’t play that game with me. Since I got shot, you’ve been acting differently. Avoiding me, sitting away from me on the jet, hardly even making eye contact with me, this weird hostile attitude. Why?”
“Because, Derek, you got shot at and it was stupid. You should’ve been more careful.”
“Sugar, I know you don’t believe it was my fault I got shot,” his tone softens, “What’s really going on up there, hm?”
His finger lightly taps on your forehead, again reminding you of just how close the two of you are to each other, because you didn’t even see his arm move to do it. Both of you are yet to disturb the intense eye contact happening, eyes boring into each other’s - his searching for answers in yours, yours seeking relief in his.
“I shouldn’t have been mad at you for getting shot at. I’m sorry.”
“I just wanna know why, doll.”
“You scared me. A lot,” you admit in a whisper, fighting the urge to bow your head and nuzzle into the top of his chest.
Instead, you keep your head level as the both of you stare at each other, your hand still pressing the ice pack to his lower midriff during the interaction. Visibly, his face softens with your admission, and then his lips curve into a barely there smirk.
“Yeah? You care about me, sweetheart? Awh,” he teases.
“Seriously. You don’t have nine lives, D, you can’t risk losing this one.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am so sorry for forgetting that I’m not a cat.”
“God, you can’t ever be serious, can you?”
“Hard to be serious when there’s a pretty woman tending to my wounds, angel.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” you mutter and let your eyes drop to his abs between you, momentarily distracted.
“See something you like?”
As you go to reply, lips slightly parted - though the words that should’ve come out hadn’t even fully formed in your head yet - the door swings open to reveal one Jennifer Jareau. Morgan turns his head slowly to look at her while you whip your head to the right so fast it could’ve given you whiplash.
JJ’s face contorts with confusion, you presume it’s because she only expected to find you in here - and certainly not extremely close to Morgan with your hand resting on his midriff.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not interrupting something, am I?”
“No, Jayje, you’re okay,” you reassure her.
“Hotch needs everyone in the briefing room.”
“We just got back,” Morgan grumbles.
“He said it was urgent. I’ll uh, let you two… finish up,” the blond says quietly, giving the two of you an awkward smile, and then closing the door behind her.
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marvelwitchergilmore · 7 months ago
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Trust In Battle Scars
Summary: Joel Miller x Fe!Reader -> Even if you haven't always liked Joel, you've trusted him. And he's trusted you.
Disclaimer: Heavy smut, mentions of battle scars, blood, being buried alive, torture and murder (Joel hurts bad guys), swearing throughout. This is an 18+ so MDNI. Angst and fluff spread throughout. Joel takes care of Reader, maybe unlikely friends-to-lovers. Long fic. Not Proof Read.
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Joel kicked the door open once more with his foot as he helped you inside, Tommy already inside throwing things away from the sofa to let you sit down. 
“Joel, I’m fine. Honestly.”
“You’re hurt and bleeding. You’re fine, my ass.”
He helped you onto the sofa before he stood back, propped his gun up by the wall and started to take off his jacket. “Ellie, go and get the-”
She appeared by his side, the first aid kit already in hand. “Here.”
“Hot water from the kettle.”
“On it!”
You held onto your side, feeling the blood slowly soaked your clothes. “I’m fine. You don’t need to make a fuss. I’ve survived through worse.”
But Joel was already on his knees, rolling up his sleeves and opening up the kit beside him on the floor. 
“If I let you out of my sight, you’d just let this fester until you collapsed.”
You shook your head. “No I wouldn’t. I’d clean it myself.”
Through the front door, Tommy, Maria and a couple of others who had been there to see you get hurt came through the door just as Ellie came back inside with a large bowl of hot water before running upstairs to go and get fresh towels. 
Joel reached out for the hem of your top but you recoiled back. “No…I’m okay.”
Looking around, Maria was asking her husband a thousand questions and the others were staring at where the blood was soaking your shirt and hands. 
He looked between you and everyone else before yelling; “Everyone out!”
“Towels.” Ellie placed them by his side. 
“Ellie, get everyone out.”
She took what Joel asked seriously. Turning on her heel, she started ushering people outside. 
“Ellie?”
She looked back from the door. 
“Keep ‘em out.”
She gave Joel a mock salute before closing the front door behind her and Joel sat back on his heels, his hands on his hips. His voice sounded less hurried when he spoke again. 
“They’re gone. They can’t see from here.”
You were weary but slowly started to remove your jacket, Joel helping pull it from your arms before reaching for the hem of your top. 
“Think I’m gonna need your help.” Joel just nodded and helped you anyway. Lifting the t-shirt over your head, he took in your body. Under any other context the thoughts at the back of his head would be at the front. But he was too concerned with the hole in your abdomen to think about much else. 
Across your body there were different sized scars. A couple bullet wounds that had healed over the last couple of months, if not years. Gashes – some were deeper than others but they’d healed over. There were a couple of fresh grazes on your stomach from where you’d fallen afterwards, but they’d heal on their own. 
“This is gonna hurt.” He couldn’t lie to you. 
You nodded in understanding. “I know. But I trust you.”
But I trust you.
That was something you’d been telling him since you met him. Even if you hadn’t gotten along the best, you’d always trusted him. When you first got shot, you hadn’t told anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all day, but Joel had noticed you twitching and hissing each time you hiked your pack higher on your back. So, by the time night fell and the others said you’d gone to bed, he’d gone looking for you. 
He found you by the river bed, biting on your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pain. The bullet was still there. 
You’d flinched when you heard his boots on the rocks of the riverbank, but he held his hands up. “Relax, it’s just me.” 
He didn’t say anything else for a while, just walked closer to you before sitting on a rock beside you and holding up a light. 
“Hold this.” He told you before taking a look for himself. You and Joel, at that point, had probably shared two sentences at most since first meeting. 
“Yeah, it’s still there. You able to stay still?” 
You nodded nervously. 
Joel just nodded. “Okay. This is gonna hurt so…take a breath.”
You did so and the next two minutes were the most painful you’d ever experienced outside of being sung the Happy Birthday song. 
Joel pulled it out and pressed a bound cloth to your shoulder before reaching down into the small pack he’d brought with him. Holding up a small needle and thread, he went to stitch you up but then faltered. 
You just nodded. “I trust you.”
He took that as enough confirmation to continue. By the time he finished, he leaned forward and snapped away the rest of the thread with his teeth before washing the cloth in the river and cleaning away the blood from his hands and your shoulder. From there, he moved the strap of your top back up to help hold the gauze and tape in place. 
After that day, watching Joel walk back up the stones and towards the smaller camp, you and him talked a little more. Until eventually you became friends. And out of everyone, you trusted him the most. 
And you figured he felt the same about you considering you were the only one he’d let touch him after he got cut. He’d assured Tommy he was okay, he’d yelled at Tess telling her he was fine, and everyone else had been warned away with a look. 
But that didn’t work with you. He wished it did, but it didn’t. 
You’d opened his apartment door, finding Tess and Tommy stood outside. Tess was growing more and more annoyed and Tommy was looking like he’d been punched in the gut. 
You didn’t have to ask them what happened, you just walked inside and for as much as they wanted to follow you inside, they didn’t. The door closed behind you and you found Joel standing inside the bathroom in front of the mirror trying to clean up his wound. 
“What the hell happened?” 
Joel found you looking at him through the mirror. “Nothin’.”
“Sure as hell doesn’t look like nothin’.” You marched into the bathroom to get a better look as he tried to swat you away. “You need stitches.”
“I can do it myself.”
“Go and sit down. I’ll do ‘em.”
You watched as Joel went to open his mouth to say something, so you took the cloth out of his hands and stood back. “Joel Miller, so help me god, you go and sit your ass on that sofa before I kick you into next week.”
It took him a moment, but he sighed. Anyone else would have backed down when he maintained their eye contact, but not you. 
“You know, I’m meant to be the patient here. Aren’t nurses meant to have a nice bedside manner?” He asked you as he walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. 
You laughed as you ran the tap to clear the blood from the cloth before marching across the apartment and into the kitchen towards the kettle to boil some water. 
“Luckily for you, I’m not your nurse.”
You kept looking over your shoulder to Joel on the sofa who lay back and closed his eyes, trying his best to breath through the pain. Once the kettle finally finished, you poured the water into a bowl before carrying it over to the coffee table. 
“Lie down.”
Opening one of his eyes, Joel looked at you as you sat on the coffee table. You weren’t gonna budge. 
“Lie down,” you repeated. And with a heavy sigh, he did as he was told. 
From there, you lifted his top as far as you could get it before ringing out the cloth and shaking your hand to stop the burning. 
You hesitated. “This might hurt so…take a deep breath.”
He did so as you pressed the cloth to his wound. A deep grunt came from his chest as his hand shot out and gripped onto your wrist. “Take it easy.”
Looking from his face, to his wound, you gave a small smirk. “The man everyone fears in Boston and yet he can’t take a little hot water.”
“Are you always this heavy handed?” 
“You’re just sensitive to pain.”
“Why don’t we swap positions and see if it’s just me being sensitive to pain.” 
You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be lighter.”
You dabbed at his wound once more and he finally lay his head back and closed his eyes. “Happy?”
Joel just let out a noise from the back of his throat so you continued the way you were. “What the hell even happened?”
“Some bastard came out of nowhere and took a swing at Tess.” Joel grunted through his explanation as you continued to clean his wound before sterilising the needle. “I shot at him but he seemed to get there before me.”
“You’re gonna have to apologise to her, by the way. She’s probably still pacing outside that door.”
“I know,” Joel admitted. “I’ve heard her since she slammed the door.”
“She’s your girlfriend, Joel.” He looked at you. “Or whatever the hell you want to call it. Look, just apologise. She’ll forgive you.” Then you gave him a small smile. “You got stabbed for her. She can’t stay mad at you.”
Joel let out a small scoff in a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“I’d say look away, but you’re gonna feel this anyway. So, countdown from ten?”
Joel nearly shot up. “From ten?”
But then you stuck the needle into him and he grabbed your wrist again, throwing his head back. “What happened to ten?”
“Surprise, I guess.”
“Surprise, she says. As if she’s not sticking a fucking needle into my skin.”
You rolled your eyes. “Quit whining. I didn’t complain this much when you did it.”
Joel grunted again and squeezed your wrist. “Just…take it easy.”
You did so and eventually you finished, wrapping the thread around your finger and pulling until it snapped. You cleaned the wound once more before shocking him and pouring a little alcohol over the top. 
He shot up when you did that and found a smile on your face as you screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “Now apologise to Tess.”
You stood and made your way towards the door. 
“Y/n.”
You looked back before opening the door. “Thank you,”
You nodded with a small smile. “Anytime, Miller.”
Opening the door, you told Tess he’d live before heading back to work. 
There were more moments like that over the years, but the more scars you gathered, the more questions that would get asked by those closest to you. But out of everyone, you trusted Joel. He never asked questions. Frankly, he already knew the stories to each of your scars having been the one to patch them up in the first place. 
So when you said you trusted Joel, you meant it. 
Kneeling up, he warned you before he pressed the cloth to your side where you groaned and gripped onto his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut. 
“I know, I’m sorry.”
You shook your head. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I trust you.”
Joel just nodded and continued what he was doing. Every now and again he’d feel your nails dig into his shirt as he cleaned your wound before he had to stitch it up. 
“Just a little longer.” 
You forced a hum to let him know you heard him. 
“Wanna lie down?”
You shook your head. “No. I don’t wanna move.”
“Can you lean back for me?”
It took you a moment, but you nodded. 
“Okay.” Joel guided you back carefully, his eyes on you as yours remained shut tight. “Take it easy. That’s it. This is gonna hurt.”
You shook your head. “Just do it. I trust you.”
Joel nodded even though you couldn’t see him. So, guiding your hand back to his arm, he held it down firmly. “When it hurts, just squeeze.”
“Joel, it’s a needle. It’s gonna hurt.”
“You trust me?” You listened to his question before nodding. “Then just squeeze. This is a deep one. It’s gonna take me a while.”
“Okay.”
As Joel inserted the needle, your body reacted, pushing up and gripping onto his shoulder. You tried your best to take deep breaths, listening to Joel’s voice as he told you where he was at, how close he was to finishing. 
“Just one more, okay?”
“Okay.”
Leaning over, Joel cut the threat with this teeth once more before leaning back, keeping his eyes on you to make sure yours were still closed before he poured out a little alcohol onto a dry cloth. 
“Take a deep breath.”
“Why?”
Joel pressed it to your wound and you sat up, your eyes going wide before shutting. Leaning forward into him, your hand gripped his shoulder tightly. He was sure to have bruises on his arm later on but if it meant you got through your pain, he’d live with them happily. 
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Please tell me it’s done.”
Joel nodded. “All done. But you’re gonna need a shower. Think you’ve dragged half of the forest back with you.” There was a lightness in Joel's tone, you only wished you could feel it in yourself more. 
Standing up, Joel threw everything into a pile before holding his hands out. “Come on, let’s go.”
It took ten minutes but eventually Joel got you to the bathroom and started the shower for you. 
“Think you’ll be okay?”
You nodded. “Should be. Thank you.”
Joel made his way out of the door, leaving it open a crack. “I’ll be outside the door if you need me, so just…call out.”
You nodded, thanking him once more before getting undressed and stepping into the shower. You watched as the water went from clear to filled with old blood, new blood, mud, dirt, a few leaves from inside your hair and eventually back to clear after you got completely clean. 
Once you’d towel dried your hair, you wrapped another around your body, you stepped out of the bathroom after standing in the middle of it for a moment, so many thoughts running around your head, none of them were clear enough to remember. 
Then you found Joel. He’d been sitting on the top step outside the bathroom door. He stood quickly and took a breath. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to. But when you took a step closer to him, you were mere seconds away from him stepping towards you and wrapping you in his arms. 
A hand in your wet hair, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head whilst his other hand held you against his body. “Thank you for helping me.”
“I’ll always help you.”
After a moment, you stepped back and nodded, wiping your eyes before he could see. But he’d already caught them. Extending his hand out to you, he brushed his thumb under your eye. 
“Come on, I left you some clothes in the spare room.”
You followed Joel towards the spare bedroom where he left you to get dressed. And once you were, you walked downstairs where you found Joel heating up some soup in the kitchen. 
“Ellie’s gonna stay at Tommy’s tonight.” Joel told you. “And you’re gonna stay here.”
“There’s enough room for Ellie to be here, too, Joel.”
He nodded as he placed a bowl of soup in front of you. “I know. But she’s an eavesdropper and I want the truth. This way, it stays between me and you.”
You knew it was a shit lie when you told him as much when you’d all met back up at the bottom of the hill. If it had been just the others, you could have hidden it well enough so they wouldn’t have noticed. But not with Joel. 
He was right through you. And he saw right through the lie. 
“It’s nothing, Joel.”
“Bullshit.”
“Can we at least eat before you start the interrogation?”
Joel eventually agreed. And so you ate in silence. Until you couldn’t take it anymore and hoped to distract him for a while. So, you asked about Ellie. About her school and her homework. You asked about his jobs working down by the gardens digging up new space for some more allotments. 
Before you knew it, the sun had long been set and you and Joel were sitting on the sofa just talking. Until finally a silence settled over you both and Joel’s hand came to your leg. 
“You’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later. Unless you really want to know how loud Ellie snores?”
“I really do.”
“Y/n.”
You took in a breath and sighed before sitting up straight. “Okay. But, you have to make a deal with me.”
Joel smiled a little. “I have to make a deal with you?”
You were being serious. “Yes. You can’t fly off the handle and it can’t leave this room between me and you. Promise me you won’t do anything.”
Joel got worried and then silent. 
“Promise me,” you pressed. 
“I promise.”
With a sigh, you started to explain. “It’s stupid really. It was before I met you and the others. I was travelling with this group towards Cincinnati. I’d met one of the guys one night and we…got close.”
“Got close?”
You rolled your eyes. “We were fucking, Joel. It wasn’t anything serious. Just a way to let off some steam. In fact it had been his idea to keep things casual. Anyway, one night a few of his friends wanted to raid this place. I had a bad feeling about it but…I went anyway. Turns out the place was FEDRA owned. So, I told them what I thought and walked away. I didn’t want to be another casualty for them. Pretty sure the only reason I’d lived so long is because I was someone’s girl.”
“What was his name? The guy you were…”
“Fucking?” 
Joel nodded his head. “Trevor, or Travis. Something like that. We didn’t exactly do much talking and this was over ten years ago. Anyway, that night I walked. Packed up what I had to my name, and left. A couple months later, I found an old farmhouse. It was in the middle of nowhere. No infected. For a while, I thought I’d been followed but when no windows busted in the middle of the night, I finally relaxed.”
 “Except, when I woke up in the morning, I heard footsteps. I had been followed, just not by infected. His friends, they’d spotted me by pure fucking chance outside another town and followed me. Guess it got too dark to continue following so they pitched out in the woods for the night.”
Joel sat up. “What did they want?”
“Apparently after I left them, Trevor, or Travis – he’d followed after me. Said he’d make me see sense. Only, he got chased by an infected somewhere outside the city. They blamed me for his death. Wanted revenge.”
“Did they…”
You shook your head but stood up and lifted the hem of your t-shirt which just so happened to Joel’s, before pushing down the band of your shorts. Carefully, Joel reached out and kept your shorts out of the way so you didn’t hurt yourself any more than you already had. 
His fingers were warm against your skin. 
“No, but they did get two slugs into me before I sent them limping away with their own bullets in their legs.”
Joel looked up at you before he dropped his hand, and you sat back down. 
“What does this have to do with today?”
“Remember your promise to me?”
Joel nodded. 
“Two of his friends are here in town.”
Joel went to stand but you kept your hand on his arm. “Joel. Don’t. It wasn’t them. They’ve got nothing to do with this. At least, nothing I can prove, anyway.”
“What’s that supposed-”
“Someone’s set up trip wires around my grid. I usually go further than we’re meant to on patrol. No-one else covers my grid, so someone has been watching me. At the very least, they’ve been asking questions. Must have tripped a wire and it threw out a knife.”
Joel took a breath. “Does anyone else know? About before Boston?”
You shook your head. “It was a long time ago. And to be honest, when I saw them, they didn’t seem to recognise me.”
“You can’t just go off that.”
“I know, but I have to take my chances.”
“What if they-”
You shook your head. “They won’t. I made sure of that. Once I hit the ground, I found all of their wires. Easier to see, I guess when you’re laid faced to the ground.”
You chuckled a little at that, remembering army crawling through the forest to pull all the wires and watching the blades fall flat to the floor. But that was a bad idea. 
“Take it easy. You probably need new bandages.”
Joel stood and walked towards the desk drawer before pulling out some fresh ones. 
“I’ll stand.”
Joel sat down on the sofa as you stood between his legs, lifting your t-shirt so he could unravel the old one. 
You hissed and he apologised. He was meticulous in unwrapping your bandages, being careful to not aggravate your wounds anymore than they already had been. And for a moment, his hand ghosted over your belly, his thumb tracing back and forth before he gripped onto your hip securely. 
“Joel…”
Looking up at you, Joel watched as you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. He continued watching you as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your stomach, before pressing a few more to each wound, graze and finally the healing one on your side. 
You let out a shaking breath, your hand coming to the nape of his neck, your fingers running through the strands of his hair. 
Leaning back, his thumb brushed back and forth on your hip where he could feel the goosebumps popping up across your skin. 
Leaning down, leaving his hand on the back of your thigh to hold you still, he reached for the fresh bandage. 
“Lift your top.”
You did as he instructed and felt his fingers dance across your skin as he slowly wrapped the new bandage around your middle, being sure to keep it crossed over each other until finally he tucked it securely into place. 
His fingers wrapping around your hands, he let you lower your top as he stood, his body mere inches from you. You could see his chest getting tighter as he tried to control his breathing. Then you felt one of his hands trail up your body, your arm and finally settle at your neck, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck, whilst his other hand pulled you closer by your waist. 
Any control you had over your breathing was long gone out of the window. 
“We shouldn’t do this.”
Your voice felt too loud for how close you both stood, even if it did come out as a whisper. But you could still feel Joel’s hands fixed on your body, his palms moulding to each of your curves. 
“No, we shouldn’t.”
You could feel your breathing getting heavier. You forced yourself to catch it before you swallowed, starting to lean up on your toes as you held onto Joel for dear life. 
“One of us needs to walk away.” Joel told you. But you shook your head. 
“Don’t walk away. Don’t walk away.” Then you kissed him. 
Pulling him down, you landed back on your feet, Joel’s mouth hot on yours. Then his palms were under your ass, lifting you before your legs wrapped around his hips. With one hand firm under your ass, his other pushed your hair back from your face before he walked across to the cabinet behind you before he sat you down on it and had both of his hands in your hair, both of you becoming deaf to the back of the dresser that hit the wall.
Once again, Joel’s hands were on your hips pulling you closer until your legs wrapped around him once more. Then his mouth moved. It moved from your own, across your jaw and down your neck. Leaning away, your breathing became ragged as he found your pulse under his tongue. You were pretty sure by morning you’d have a large hickey as a blaring reminder of what pleasure Joel could just give with his mouth on your neck. 
Once Joel seemed satisfied with his work along your neck and jaw, he returned his mouth to yours where he only got a taste for more of you. From there, his hands ran through your hair until they finally got to the end of your shirt. Pulling it from under your ass, he pushed his hands underneath and carefully lifted it up your body before he broke the kiss and moved back to help you take it off. 
His mouth was back on yours in a second and the t-shirt you’d been wearing was thrown somewhere else in the room before you started tearing at the buttons on his shirt. Taking a little too long, Joel moved back and started undoing the bottom ones himself as you worked on the top ones. 
Once they were undone, he pulled the shirt off with your help before joining the t-shirt. His hand was back in your hair, pulling your mouth back to his. Nipping, licking and kissing your skin, he trailed his mouth back down your neck and across your collarbone whilst his hands unhooked your bra from the back. 
“So fucking beautiful,” his deep voice groaned before he pressed a kiss to the bow of your breast and lifted you from the dresser and carried you back to the sofa. 
Joel was careful when he lay you down on the sofa before he climbed above you, his knee slipping in between your legs. With one of your boobs in his palm, his fingers lightly pinched at your nipple as he kissed the corner of your mouth. A gasp left you and Joel smirked before watching you as he lowered himself down your body and wrapped his mouth around it, licking and sucking gently, hearing small moans escape your mouth. 
At the curve of your breast, he nipped at the skin a little before dampening the sting with his tongue and sucking just like he did at your neck. 
“Joel,” you moaned. 
Looking up at you from the bow of your breast, he pressed feather-like kisses. “Like that, baby?”
You swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling his tongue slip over your other nipple whilst his other hand travelled down the length of your body before hiking your thigh up so your leg wrapped around him. 
“Y-yes.”
You moaned again when you felt the hardness of him on your thigh. 
With his tongue trailing back up your chest before his hand cupped your cheek, finally allowing you to kiss him again, his tongue slipping inside of your mouth, tasting everything he could, his knee shifted. 
So grinding down, you took what you could. You could feel Joel smirk against your mouth. That fucker. 
“You want me already, Darlin’?”
Your breath became heavy in your chest and for a moment, Joel took in the sight of you. Plump lips from his kiss, growing hickies along your neck…
“You better plan on fucking me, Miller.”
Joel chuckled. “I plan on more than that, Darlin’.”
The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes trailing your body, he looked like a man starved. And someone had finally put a meal in front of him. 
Slowly moving down your body, Joel’s hands eventually found your shorts and unfastened them before pulling them down your legs as you lifted your ass. 
Then he sat back, his hands stroking your thighs. “Fuck, baby.”
“Joel, please.”
Even just the thought of what he was about to do was turning you on. If he planned on doing anything like what he already had been doing with his tongue…
You moaned. 
Joel chuckled. “Since you asked so nicely.”
You let out a small squeal as he pulled you a little further down the sofa and pushed your thighs a little wider and further up. Then he took his time. His mouth kissing the inside of your thigh, taking extra time for the gash that rounded your thigh. 
Usually, anyone else who had gotten this far with you took one look at the scar and..stopped. 
But not Joel. 
“Fucking beautiful.”
Then he looked at you and for a moment his eyes softened before he pressed a softer kiss to the scar. It was only for a moment, but for you it felt like the whole world, because after that, he only continued. 
Kissing, sucking, licking, worshipping, loving your body in a way no other man had ever done. The scars didn’t turn him off or make him stop. The grazes didn’t make him falter in his want for you. In fact, he only added to them. But they were a lot more pleasurable to gain than your others. 
Finally, his thumb dipped under your panties, stroking through your slickness. “Fuck, your wet.”
Rushing back towards you, Joel’s mouth was on yours as his thumb parted the lips of your pussy before began circling your clit with a light pressure. 
Your moan was swallowed by his kiss. 
As you began to grind against his hand, Joel chased his own pleasure, too. 
“Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned into your ear. 
“Fuck, Joel.” You chased the feeling of his fingers, your body flexing under his. “Fuck.” You gasped, your hand gripping onto his bicep. 
“You’re so wet.”
Looking down from your shoulder, Joel removed his hand for a moment hearing you whimper but his own joined yours as he buried his face into your hair after seeing your wetness coat his fingers. 
Again, he was moving down your body, slowly pulling each side of your panties down your hips, his tongue tracing where they were. 
“Is this okay?”
“Fuck, yes.”
Then he tasted you. 
The moan he gave as he did so had you chasing the vibrations of his voice. You needed more of him. Bucking your hips, Joel’s tongue traced around your clit. 
“Open wider for me, baby.”
With his help, you opened your thighs wider for him before he sucked at your clit. With a gasp of pleasure, you sat up and your hand fisted at the back of Joel’s hair. His hands were rough under your ass, pulling you closer to him. 
Then his tongue entered you. His nose rubbing against your clit, Joel got a taste for all of you and if he wasn’t hooked before, he was now. 
You moaned his name over and over as you chased the pressure of him against your clit. “Joel. Joel, please. Ah, fuck. Joel. I’m gonna- Joel!”
Feeling the sensation take over your body, Joel drank up every last bit of you. When he finally came back up for air, he licked the last of you from his fingers before he kissed you. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 
“Hope you’re not tired, Darlin’, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”
Pulling him closer to you, you kissed him again before you let him guide you into his lap. With your hands memorising every curve and muscle of him, your fingers started to undo his belt buckle before you finally got his jeans down his legs, as well as his underwear leaving him fully exposed to you. 
Joel just admired you as you straddled his lap once more, his fingers digging into your flesh as you rocked forward against him. 
With one hand already dancing across your skin, his other made its way back down to your core. Your arms over his shoulders, holding onto the back of the sofa, you leaned forward. 
“How many do you want, baby?”
Joel already entered one and you gasped before sighing, rocking against him as his digit curled inside of you. 
“One?”
He added another. “Or two?”
“Two.” A moan escaped you as he slowly pumped them inside of you and curled up. “Def…definitely two.”
As you rode Joel’s fingers, you could feel his cock in the side of your thigh, trying to leave it’s own bruise. 
“Fuck, baby.” 
Leaning down, you whispered into his ear. “Joel, I need more of you. I need you.”
There wasn’t much left for Joel to do other than guide himself into your entrance, his hands resting on your hips as he led you down the length of him inch by inch. 
Joel pushed the hair from your face. “Slow and steady, baby. Otherwise we’re gonna have finished before we’ve started.”
You laughed a little, and so did Joel. “Don’t you mean ‘you’?”
“As far as I’m aware, I’m the only one with self control here, Darlin’.”
You cocked a brow. “Oh really?”
Joel nodded and hummed. So, taking his face in your hand you leaned closer to his lips. 
“Maybe we’ve gotta do something about that.”
Taking a breath as you kissed him, Joel’s arms that had been resting on the back of the sofa started to tangle with your hair before moving to stimulate you in other places. 
“Hold on to the back of the sofa.” Joel told you before one hand slipped between you both and started rounding your clit and the other held the side of your neck before fisting the bottom of your hair. 
Then his mouth was everywhere. Licking, nipping, sucking – all whilst you rode his cock. 
“Shit, you feel so good.” Joel told you as he started to push up and into you more, the sounds of sex filling the room. 
Joel could feel you taking him in, your walls pulling him up as your slickness surrounded you both. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you swore. “Joel. I’m gonna come. Ahh, baby. Please. Fuck.”
Between his cock, his fingers and his mouth, you felt your orgasm building before your walls finally clenched around Joel as he let out his own orgasmic moan. Both of your movements became sloppy as the wave of your orgasm hit and you emptied around Joel as he emptied himself into you. 
You and Joel tried your best to catch your breath as you both remained still, his hand leaving your clit to hold you on him, at your hip. 
“Fuck.”
Leaning down you kissed him once more as his hands snaked around you, holding you against him. You felt his hand travel up your back before rounded down and flicking across your nipples once more. 
Finally he slowed and rested his head against your chest. And you both remained like that for a while until the feeling finally returned back into your legs, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. 
After cleaning up downstairs, Joel met you in the shower where his hands tangled between the wet strands of your hair and your back took on temporary imprints of the shower tile. And by the time you both woke up in the morning, your legs were still tangled with Joel’s from when you’d climbed back into bed after peeing. 
Once Joel finally woke up, you both lay in silence for a while, your nails trailing up and down his chest as his own fingers did the same on your arm. 
“How’s your side?” 
“I think the aching in my legs is distracting me.”
Joel smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Good.”
You kissed him back. “But I think my bandage needs changing.”
Joel nodded. “Grab a shower and I’ll go and grab you some fresh ones. The ones from last night should be dry by now.”
“Okay.” You kissed him. “But feel free to join me.”
Joel smiled and kissed your lips twice. “I plan on it.”
So, after an extra long shower, the feeling of Joel’s cock entering you from behind as he kept your hands pinned against the tile still fresh inside of you, Joel changed your bandage and you both finally got dressed. 
By the time Ellie and Maria came knocking on the back door and entering the kitchen, it was like nothing had changed. Ellie might not have noticed it, but Maria certainly did. 
“I brought you some antiseptic cream. Should help with the healing.”
“Thanks.”
Joel looked towards Ellie. “You had breakfast?”
Maria shook her head. “Tried to, but she wanted to see you as soon as she could.”
Joel nodded before sucking the bacon grease off his thumb. “Grab a plate. Maria, you staying?”
“No, best not. I’ve got a council meeting in twenty minutes.”
“Coffee to go?” You offered. 
Maria nodded, a little confused as she watched the picture play out in front of her. “Uh, yeah. That’d be lovely. Thanks.”
In front of her she saw Joel…happy. His eyes practically followed every movement you made before the eggs spat in the pan and he turned his attention back to his cooking. His hand at your hip as he rounded you to get into another drawer, your hand on his back as you passed him to grab a to-go lid from under the sink. 
The way you both looked at each other…it was the same as before but just…more. 
“Here you go.”
Maria smiled for a few reasons other than the coffee you handed her. “Thanks. See you guys later?”
You and Joel looked at each other, a little confused. “For what?”
Maria’s brows furrowed. Had you literally fucked the brains out of each other?
“It’s movie night.” Ellie told everyone. Joel looked at his daughter, his brain finally kicking into gear. 
“Right. Yeah, yeah. We’ll be there.”
Maria smiled. “Great. Well, I better run. Enjoy breakfast.”
Leaving, you turned back to Joel. “I completely forgot.”
“Same here.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel before transferring breakfast across to three plates. 
The rest of the day ran smoothly. Maria made sure to keep you and Joel at a distance from each other when helping set up. If the morning was anything to go by, both of your functioning brains disappeared when you were together. 
But she didn’t miss the constant eye-fucking across the room you gave to each other. Especially when the other wasn’t looking. 
And it was only when you and Joel passed each other in the supply closet you got a few moments together which each time got interrupted by someone calling for either one of you or someone making their way down the empty hallway towards the supply closet. 
That would be when you and Joel would jump apart and put an entire row of shelved between you both, you making small conversation as Joel turned his back, straightened out his mustache, grabbed the box he’d gone in for, slip past you, his hand patting or pinching your ass despite his eyes being fixed on the floor before he got an easy escape in order to cool down. 
And once you’d gotten back home, he did everything he’d wanted to do to you in the supply closet, at home. At least until Ellie walked through the front door, calling out for him telling him she was home. 
The routine you and Joel had set that night continued for almost a month. In between then, Ellie had worked out something had finally happened between you and Joel, as had Maria and Tommy. 
A few others around town had worked it out, too, though they never had full confirmation. 
Until the day came where you went missing. 
You had meant to pass by the school and walk home with Ellie since it was Joel’s turn to cook dinner. Only, when Ellie walked inside half an hour late and without you, Joel grew a little concerned as well as a little annoyed. 
You were never one to bail a plan, or even be late. So why weren’t you with Ellie?
“She didn’t show.”
“What do you mean she didn’t show?”
Ellie shrugged and dropped her bag by the door. “She didn’t show.”
Joel still fixed you a plate anyway. Maybe your work had run over. Only, the worry in the pit of his stomach seemed to grow more when he saw his brother. 
“Tommy, have you seen Y/n?”
Tommy nodded his head as he wiped down the bar. “Yeah, earlier. She covered Charlotte’s shift on patrol during dinner time.”
Even with taking the extra shift, you still would have finished in time to walk with Ellie. 
“Have you seen her since?”
Tommy shook his head but then called out for someone. A guy dressed in a dark coat walked over. “What can I do for you, Tommy boy?”
“You seen Y/n?”
The guy looked from Tommy, to Joel and Ellie. “Not since the start of patrol. But she should be back by now.”
“Why? What happened?”
The guy shrugged. “One of the fellas said she’d headed back early for something. She wouldn’t say what. They’d finished most of their grid so he finished up on his own and met us back at the bottom of the hill.”
“And you haven’t seen her since?”
The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Joel. I haven’t.”
“Thanks anyway.”
He nodded. “If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”
“Thanks, Bryan.”
Tipping his hat, he walked away and back to his table. Then Joel grabbed his jacket. “Ellie, stay with Tommy.”
“Where are you going?”
“Check her house. Stay with Tommy,” Joel repeated as he saw Ellie go to stand. She reluctantly sat back down. 
He was outside your home in fifteen minutes. He called out your name but no reply came. Finding the spare key, he let himself in before looking around the place. Nobody. Then he checked his own home. Then the gardens, school, movie theatre and finally the bar again. 
“Find her?”
Joel shook his head. “No.”
But then he heard a laugh, and something dropped in his stomach. Turning around, his eyes made contact with another pair. 
You’d pointed out to Joel the men who you knew from before Boston. And there they sat, with a satisfied look in their eyes. 
“You looking for your woman, Miller? Or is she just fucking you like she fucked Travis?”
Joel was across the floor in five seconds flat, his hands at the collar of one of them. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
But he just laughed. Joel looked back at Tommy who just nodded to a side door. Everyone in the bar had gone silent, but he wasn’t worried about them. Ellie didn’t need to see what he was about to do. 
So dragging the guy with him, he pulled him through the swinging door, meanwhile Tommy and a few others surrounded the other friend before he could make a move to attack Joel. 
“The bitch should still be alive if you can find her in time.”
Mostly the guy just laughed in Joel’s face until Joel had him slumped on the floor and had him screaming with a knife in his knee. 
“You psycho fucker!”
Joel remained calm. “Where is she?”
“Like I’d tell you,” Joel stabbed him once more. “I’m gonna ask you one more time and if you don’t tell me, I’ll pop your fucking knee cap off.”
“Fuck you.”
Joel twisted the knife. “Okay, okay! She’s in the upper grid! She’s in the upper grid!”
Joel searched his eyes, turning the guy’s head from side to side. “If you’re lying-”
“I’m not!” He cried. “I’m not. I swear.”
“Okay.”
The guy calmed down a little. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“So you’ll let me-” He screamed in pain as Joel shattered his knee. “Ah! Fucker! You promised.”
“I didn’t promise you a fucking thing.”
Joel stood and wiped the knife clean. “You and your friend better be gone before I get back.”
“How?! You’ve just broke my fucking leg!”
“Then crawl. Whilst you can still do that.”
The guy cried in pain. “You crazy fucker! You’ll pay for this! I swear, you’ll pay for this!”
Joel didn’t look back as he walked back through the door. “Call a fucking lawyer.”
The guy's screams of pain died away with the swinging of the door and by the look on the other guy’s face, he was shitting himself. 
Joel grabbed him by the collar. “You know where she is?”
He nodded. “Take me.”
“But-”
Joel shot him in the leg. 
“Alright! Alright!” 
Dragging him by the collar, Joel carried him outside and through the town. Meanwhile, Ellie sat and watched from the cover of the bar before turning to Tommy who came to her side. 
“He’ll find her.”
Tommy nodded. “Hopefully.”
But Ellie was adamant. “He found me. He’ll find her.”
Tommy didn’t know the full story about what happened after his brother and Ellie left Jackson the first time, but going off how he’d reacted to finding you gone and in danger and how he’d been on Outbreak Day with Sarah…Tommy had a feeling someone wasn’t coming back. 
After forty minutes, the guy lifted his hand, “She’s in there.”
The only thing there was a mound of dirt. The guy was already crying. 
“We buried her. She should still be alive-” He didn’t finish his sentence because the blow of the bullet at the base of his skull shut him up. 
And Joel got to work, shovelling piles of dirt as quickly as he could. 
“Joel!”
From the hill, a few others appeared with guns. “We heard a shot-” Then they realised. 
“Grab a shovel! Help me!”
And they did. 
Eventually, they hit a wooden box. 
“Joel, she’s here.” Bryan told him before wiping the thin layer of dirt from the edges where both himself and Joel stabbed at the edges with their shovels, using them as a crowbar until finally the top popped off. 
Seeing more light than before, your lungs seemed to rush with air quicker than you could breathe it in. Sitting up quickly, you felt a pair of hands on you. 
“Get off me! Get off me!”
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s me. Y/n, it’s me. Hey, hey, look at me.”
Holding your face in his hands, your vision cleared to find Joel standing in front of you. “J-Joel?”
“Hey.”
Joel helped you up quickly, pulling you into his arms as his back rested against the side of the grave, your sobs falling against his chest. 
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Bryan laid a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take her home. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Joel nodded, his hand at the back of your head. “Come on. I’ll help you out.”
And he did. You were still shaking like a leaf. 
With his jacket over your shoulders, Joel held you into his side as you both walked back to town and towards home. 
“I’m so sorry, Joel.” 
Those were the first words you’d spoken to him since the morning when you’d kissed him goodbye. 
Joel shook his head as he was crouched in front of you, washing your face for you. Despite the shower, there still seemed to be dirt in your eyes. 
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
You nodded but he still had to tell you the same a day later when you woke up in his bed for the second time since he’d woken you up to tell you he’d be back in one hour. When you finally did pull yourself out of bed, you opened up the bedroom door to find Ellie standing to attention. 
Neither of you said anything but in a few moments, she ran towards you and hugged you. It wasn’t long before you both sunk to the floor. 
“I’m so sorry I was late.”
Ellie shook her head. “Are you going to be okay?”
You nodded. “Thanks to Joel.” You tried your best to dry your tears. “Where is he?”
“Still with Tommy. They’re still dealing with the guys that…” Ellie skipped over that part. “Everyone is on your side, and Joel’s side, too.”
You just nodded again. “Good.”
Then Ellie leaned forward and hugged you again before you both heard a familiar pair of boots walk up the stairs. “You’re awake.”
“I think so, at least.”
“I’ve got breakfast.”
The morning was mostly spent in silence until Ellie fell asleep tucked into your side of the sofa. Joel went to pick her up to carry her to bed but you stopped him. “Leave her.”
He did so and sat on your otherside, his arm resting around your shoulders whilst his hand brushed the back of Ellie’s sleeping head. 
“I’m so sorry, Joel.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”
You shook your head. “No matter where I go, I seem to collect scars. And they never let me go.”
Joel pressed a kiss to your head before gently placing his other hand on your thigh. “You should be proud of them. They’re a sign you survived. They’re a sign you’re still alive and here. With us.”
Looking at Joel, all you saw on his face was sincerity. He truly meant it, and truly believed it, too. Leaning up, you let him kiss you gently before you settled your head against his chest. 
Maybe he was right. You knew he was right. You trusted he was right.
Especially when you’d come to learn of all the ways Joel could appreciate your survival, proving to you how you could appreciate it, too. 
729 notes · View notes
dwaekkicidal · 8 months ago
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hihii ! i love the way you write hybrid skz, it’s just so fun to read & i eat it up everytime 😚🫶 !!
lowkey might be cliche LMAO but i’m obsessed w the thought of fox!innie & bunny!reader, either reader is in her heat & innie is being a little horny shit or .. reader is sick of his bullshit & ends up bouncing on his dick until they’re both whimpering messes ><
if i cant have this, whats the point in being alive. (im kidding) (im not) thank you for this anon i love you so bad
also this is gender neutral! i talk about breeding but fox!jeongin thinks if he tries hard enough, he can and will get you pregnant. no matter what. :)
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alpha fox!jeongin who smells your heat days away. that in itself is enough to get him going but when he sees you start to nest, in his bed, he absolutely loses his mind
he gives you no time to say anything before he's dragging you to said nest, tossing you onto it and settling himself on top of you
he starts off just hovering above you as he plants each kiss, hickey, and bite to your neck. he's insanely impatient and will have you bent over and impaled on his cock no longer than a few minutes after having pinned you to the bed.
depending on what you're wearing he might start fucking you within a few seconds- he'll yank your top off and will simply push your underwear to the bottom of your ass and sink into you fully, no prep because he wants you to really feel all of him <3
and he's so mean when he fucks you!!! switches between either tangling a hand in your hair and shoving your face into your nest OR grabbing a tight hold at the base of your bunny ears and pulling, forcing you to arch your back for him
his cock is nestled so deep that you can feel him in your guts, your stomach eventually hurting from how hard he pounds into you and from how much he cums inside of you
and speaking of cum, don't you dare even think about wasting any of it. deep down he knows its inevitable that it will spill out, especially because he cums actual buckets every time, but also because he cums into you over and over and over again
however! that wont stop him from getting easily pissed off when he sees a drop of his cum venturing too far from your puffy hole >.<
youll be lucky if thats enough for him to pull out for a second, but more often than not it leads to him pulling you upright and flat against his chest so he can land a few slaps to your thighs while he's still deep inside of you, his hips no longer moving
says shit like; "what do you think you're doing??? ungrateful bunny. i put all this effort into fucking you silly and all i ask is that you keep my pups safe." with a tight grip on your hair holding you perfectly still so he can whisper it into your ear.... ugh..
if youre too out of it and dont answer hes gonna growl and start fucking you hard. his free hand is gonna drop to your thighs and scoop up any loose cum so he can shove those pretty fingers down your throat- "since this little hole wont accept my cum, that slutty mouth'll have to do."
when he does eventually get tired, literal hours later..., you're finally allowed a break! he lets you do your thing in the bathroom, growling to himself at the thought/knowledge that you're gonna be ridding yourself of- wasting- a lot of the cum he just allowed you
but oh! whats that? jeongin is starting to feel a little hot and under the weather by the time you come back in the room? wait... he thinks you triggered his heat? oh. well, in that case, you can go a "few" more rounds, right? :)
it doesn't take long for him to rest his back against the headboard after dragging you back to the bed. and he'll kiss your complaints away when the action causes your nest to get messed up. he doesn't let you get too upset about it, cause he loves you to death! and if forcing you to ride his cock and take it to the very hilt is enough to stop your heart from breaking, then he will happily do so
long fingers digging into your thighs and shit eating grin spread across his face, his canines poking out slightly as he stares up at you as you ride him. and when you inevitably get too tired to continue, he's gonna use those pretty muscles to lift you and drop you onto him!
and dont worry! your pretty little whimpers and cries dont discourage him :) and thats because "you need to take it, bunny. 'm not stopping until your cute little tummy is full of me." so if you've never met a stubborn person before, you are in for a real treat with this greedy ass hybrid.
he's soooo happy... this position lets him go so deep, scratching that little itch in the back of his head about how he needs to breed you- and he's sure he's doing it thoroughly enough when your nails dig into his shoulders in overstimulation.
dont mistake his own whimpers for him running out of fuel! he's not even close to being done yet, so don't expect to get away anytime soon~ you're gonna sit right there, on your rightful throne, and you're gonna accept every. last. drop. of his offerings.
he needs to mark his somehow <3
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Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):
@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08
@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy
@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz
@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa
@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams
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yapuniversity · 7 months ago
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thinking about sweet boyfriend nanami who worries too much about you when you’re on your periods. “are you okay, baby?” he asks in that sweet, deep voice of his. you can't help but smile at his expression - his cute brows frowning together and his pretty lips pressed in a thin line out of concern. you cup his face in your palms and gently place a kiss on his forehead, reassuring him. “i’m fine, love.”
he rests himself on his knees in front of you while you’re sitting on the sofa. his arms placed on your hips possessively as he caresses your soft skin under his fingertips. “is your tummy hurting?” he asks, not convinced with your answer. your stomach was, in fact hurting. but looking at his growing concern over you, you couldn't help but lie. even though you liked the fact that nanami was constantly checking up on you ever since you hit your monthly cycle, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt eating you alive anytime he took a break from his work to look after you. yes, you did admire the fact that he cared about you and took mini breaks in between to make sure that you were fine. but you were worried that you were getting in the way of his work.
but of course, being the sweet and loving boyfriend nanami is, he constantly assured you that you were not in the way of his work and that he wanted to take care of you. he needed to take care of you.
“you’re my entire world, sweetheart,” he’d say every time you spoke about this matter. “i can't bear the thought of you being in pain. let me take care of you, please.” he’d say, his eyes never leaving your face. and everytime he looked at you like that, you knew that there was nothing but love behind those captivating hazel-coloured eyes of his.
so, when a “yes” slipped out of your lips - when asked if your stomach was hurting, he swiftly got up on his feet and lifted you in his arms, his grip protective.
“you rest. i’ll bring the hot water bag, okay?” he says, his words coming out more like a command rather than a suggestion. you have no other option but to stay quiet and obey. and you had to admit it, you liked it when he spoke to you in that tone. you liked the idea of him being in control. you liked the idea of him proving his affection towards you.
you see, nanami’s second most evident love language is acts of service and no doubt, the first one being physical touch. and then comes words of affirmation. but, he’s obviously never told this to you because he has never shown anyone this side of him. you on the other hand have noticed each and every one of his move. “i have never felt like this for anyone,” he’d say, and you could see the truth in his words. he’d made it clear from the start that he was a sucker for you, and only you alone.
he opens the door to your room and gently places you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. “you comfortable, baby?” he asks and when you nod a “yes”, he pulls the covers over you.
“i’ll be right back,” he says and a small smile spreads across his lips when he sees you opening your mouth to ask him where he's going, but he places a finger on your lips and says, “nuh-uh. no questions, no arguments. do you trust me?”
the question catches you off-guard. trust him? of course you trust him. you trust him more than anyone in your life. you trust him more than you trust yourself.
“of course i do,” you say, defensively.
nanami can't help but grin at your words. “then wait for me,” he says and kisses your temple. you don't say anything because you know that he wouldn't listen to you. especially after you told him that you trusted him.
ten minutes pass by and you were almost about to fall asleep but then you see nanami coming into your room, a hot water bag in one hand and a massaging oil in the other. he sits next to you, his weight compressing the mattress ever so slightly under him. he pulls the covers down to your hips and places the bag on your stomach. “does that feel better?” he asks. the warmth of the bag almost gives you an instant relief from your pain and nanami notices this. “see, i told you that you could trust me,” he says proudly and you can't help but grin at his words.
“do you want me to massage your stomach? for some relief?” he asks, taking your hand in his and intertwining his fingers with yours. his gaze never leaves your face and you almost feel shy. he’s been your man for a long time now but the feelings you have for him are still the same as when you first met him. raw, beautiful, and intense.
a “no” somehow comes out of you and he nods in understanding.
you suddenly wake up to the bag being lifted from your stomach and you immediately look at nanami. you had no recollection of falling asleep. “shit,” you curse under your breath and nanami’s gaze immediately meets yours, his expression looking like he's been craving to hear your voice for a long time now.
“sorry, i didn't mean to wake you up,” he says and places the bag at your bedside table.
“how long was i out for?” you ask, lifting your body up and resting on your elbows.
“almost an hour,” nanami responds nonchalantly.
“what were you doing for so long?”
“watching you sleep,” he says, shyness in his voice.
your face turns red at his words and you say, “im so sorry i kept you waiting.”
“you didn't, doll,” nanami says almost immediately.
you let out a heavy sigh and you hear nanami ask, “how are you feeling?”
you subconsciously place a hand on your stomach and say, “better. much better.”
nanami’s lips curves upward into a smile. he walks over to you and gets on top of you, pressing his needy lips against yours. his gesture takes you by surprise but you could almost immediately sense the feeling of urgency in his touch, almost like he's been holding himself back from kissing you like this. you kiss him back with the same intensity and after a few seconds, he reluctantly pulls away. a disappointed expression immediately takes over your face and this makes nanami chuckle.
“i'm not moving too fast, am i?” he asks, hesitantly.
“shut up and kiss me,” you say almost immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips against his. he kisses you back with the same eagerness and cups your face in his palms. he pulls back once more and this time you can't help but feel irritated.
“why do you keep pulling back?” you ask, angrily.
“because i’m afraid i’m putting too much pressure on you,” he says, reluctantly.
“you’re not, nanami. kiss me, please.”
nanami couldn't hold back anymore. he grabs your face and hungrily slams his lips onto yours. he parts your lips with his tongue and lets out a low satisfied growl when he gets a taste of you. he presses his body against yours and you could instantly feel the bulge in his pants. your arousal heightens and you wrap your legs around his waist, pressing his hot and heavy bulge on your innocent cunt.
you pull away from his lips and beg, “fuck me, please.”
nanami pants against your lips and you could feel his cock twitch at your words. “no, baby,” he says, biting his lips as he tries to control himself.
“why?” you ask, your voice breaking.
nanami’s face evidently flinches at your broken voice. a pained expression taking over his face. “as much as i want to, love- i cant. it’ll be too much for you and your body is already delicate and sensitive since you’re on your periods. i don't want to hurt you.”
you sigh in defeat because you know he's right. and you know that he never denies your needs. but when he does, you know it's for your good.
“you’re right,” you say in a low and sad voice.
“i’m sorry, baby,” he says and you can feel the genuine guilt in his voice.
he kisses your neck in appreciation. he lifts himself from your body and you feel your thighs aching at the absence of his touch. but unbeknownst to you, nanami gently lifts up your shirt and looks at your exposed stomach. he places his hand on your stomach and feels your warmth under his palm. he brings his head down and gently brushes his lips on your exposed skin, nuzzling his face here and there in order to envelop into your scent. he then rests his head on your stomach and looks up at you with affection in his eyes. “i love you,” he says, almost in a whisper.
your eyes soften at his words.
“i love you too,” you say as a smile spreads across your face.
a small grin plays at the corner of nanami’s lips.
you brush your fingers against his hair and he closes his eyes at your contact. he hums in satisfaction under your touch.
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do not plagiarise, copy, translate or repost my works on any platform!!!
divider credit - @xurengu0 <3
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thewritetofreespeech · 8 months ago
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Could I request Hades with a s/o who can go for several rounds of sex?
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He never should have gotten involved with one of Aphrodite’s girls.
Hades was usually immune to the Goddess of Love & Beauty, and her entourage, but [Y/N] had struck a chord in him. He thought she was different. And, in many ways she was. Though beautiful and charming like all of them, [Y/N] was intelligent, engaged, and imbued with wit. He thought that because she was different from the others that she might be different in all ways. A foolish mistake.
“Come on…just one more time…”
[Y/N] cooed as she was already beginning to straddle his hips. Hade’s defeated body just a pliable mass beneath her as he’d expended all his energy in their several rounds before.
“My darling, I can’t.” He told her. “You’ve drained me completely. Can we not rest?”
“Oooh…but I can’t help it.” She rolled her hips against his cock. Her lower lips kissing it. He can feel the slickness, and his member tries to react, but cannot. “I just love your cock so much. It’s so big. It fills me up completely.” Hades groaned. Her flattery stroking his ego like her center against his cock. “Doesn’t the big, strong elder God have just one more to give me? I’ll be satisfied after that. I swear.”
A part of him wanted to tell her no, but another part of him, more primal, wanted to take this beautiful woman who seemed utterly obsessed with him. Hades urged his lover forward. Positioning her knees against the pillows by his head. His cock might not be working right now, but in the meantime his mouth worked. They could start there.
“Oh~! Oh yes Hades!” His beautiful nymph writhed against his face and tongue. Rolling those gorgeous hips against him as he lapped at her center. Her swollen clit a bead against his tongue that he played with while his hand tried to stroke his cock back to life.
“Oh! Oh Gods! It’s so good Hades….more…ah…you’re amazing….I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna ccuuummm!” Her walls seized around his tongue even as she squealed gleefully. Her juices coating his mouth and face with delicious honey.
She doesn’t bask in her climax for very long. She never did. Always in pursuit of more pleasure it seemed when it came to sex, [Y/N] looked back over her shoulder to see his cock back alive and grinned before she eagerly slid back down his body to claim it.
Hades groaned and gripped at her hips when she suddenly impaled herself on him. But his grasp does little against her, other than to keep her upright, as [Y/N] rode him in a breaking speed. “Mmm…oh yes…yes your cock! It feels so good inside me. I want no one else! I want your cock inside me all the time. Forever. Oh Gods! Oh Gods! Fill me up Hades!” The god held her hips tighter as he came one more, final time inside her. She shuttered in delight. A little orgasm from feeling his seed spill inside her, before she rode him the rest of the way to her final orgasm.
Completely and utterly spent now, Hades tried to catch his breath while his little lover laid beside him. Seeming unbothered and contented. Her fingers touching the spot where they had been connected and examining her fingers, coated in the two of them with fixation. “I have to go.”
“Go?” [Y/N] asked in surprise. “You do not wish to stay?”
“I have to work.” Though Hades did not know where he would find the energy for it, he did have his Godly duties to attend to.
[Y/N] pouted. Seeming a little disappointed and hurt. “Oh. Ok.” She lay in bed as he dressed but accepted his kiss when he came over to her. Clearly making attempts to pull him back down. “Will you come see me later?”
Hades knew that he should say no. This passion was clearly going to burn through them fast. He would not be able to keep this up forever; nor would his cock. Hades was beginning to realize that his beguiling nymph was more hungry succubus. He should break this off while he still had the will to. “I’ll come back later.” [Y/N] smiled, and all his worries seemed to float away as he left.
Later, while he was managing paperwork that had piled up in these long absences with [Y/N], if she had been a gift sent to him by Aphrodite or a curse. Time would only tell.
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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago
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When Eddie comes out to him, Steve makes a big mistake. His first reaction was to thank him for trusting him, which is what Robin told him to do in this situation.
But his second reaction was to say “I also like guys.”
Eddie blinked at him, clearly confused and defensive, like maybe Steve was making fun or not taking him seriously.
“Uh. You do?”
“Yeah man! I mean, no one else knows, but yeah.”
Eddie smiled and thanked him for trusting him with it, said they should hang out more, and recommended a queer bar in Indy if he needed a safe place to explore.
And Steve smiled and nodded like he couldn’t agree more.
As soon as Eddie was gone, he rushed to the phone in his kitchen and called Robin.
She called him an idiot, a dingus, a bisexual disaster —whatever that was—, and told him he absolutely wasn’t allowed to go to a queer bar without her.
She did at least agree to keep up the lie until he could find a way out of it without Eddie thinking he lied to hurt him or something.
But he started hanging out a lot more with Eddie and finding that they had more in common than he originally thought.
Eddie took Robin and Steve to the queer club and Steve…felt at home, felt welcomed, felt like he belonged. Robin kept giving him these looks all night, and Eddie kept dragging him to meet people who he cared about, and one of the guys on the dance floor kept pulling him out there to dance with him.
He felt free and alive and-
Queer.
It hit him as the guy, Paul maybe, was pulling him closer by his waist as his hips rocked to the beat of a song he didn’t recognize but felt like something he wanted on a mixtape. It hit him that he liked this because he liked dancing with Paul like this. He liked this because he saw himself visiting more, even without Eddie and Robin. He liked this because he could picture making out with Eddie in the bathroom.
He froze.
“You okay, sweet thing?” Paul asked him.
“I think I’m in love with my friend.”
Paul’s eyes widened momentarily before patting Steve’s hip. “Is he gay, honey?”
“Huh?” Steve was already trying to find Eddie in the crowd. “Oh, yeah. He’s here tonight.”
“Shouldn’t you be dancin’ with him then?”
Steve finally looked back at Paul, who had his hands on his own hips now, teasing smile on his face.
“Yeah. I should,” Steve thanked him, apologized for any misleading, which was immediately brushed off. Paul was here to dance, he didn’t much care for who he was dancing with.
“Send that beauty over here. She looks like she needs some lessons,” Paul pointed to Robin, who was still looking a little nervous despite the friendly bartender handing her sodas every time he passed by her.
“She’s gay, man.”
“So am I! Doesn’t mean we can’t dance!”
Steve laughed. “You’re right.”
He walked over to Robin quickly, avoided getting pulled back into the crowd.
“I’m in love with Eddie.”
Robin rolled her eyes. “I know, dingus. You literally risked your entire reputation to come to a queer bar to try to impress him.”
Steve balked. “That’s not what this was!”
“Uh huh. Well he’s sulking in the bathroom if you wanna go tell him.”
“Sulking? Why?”
“He saw you dancing with that guy. Think he assumed you were interested in him.”
“Not a chance. I prefer long hair and ripped jeans,” Steve winked. He turned to walk towards the hall with the bathrooms when Robin stopped him.
“Don’t do this if you’re not 100% sure,” she said seriously. “Eddie really likes you and it would destroy him if you were lying to make him feel better.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve started, but stopped when Robin gave him a look.
“You’ve literally been pretending to be queer for the last two months because he came out to you and you accidentally came out to him. You’re lucky it wasn’t a complete lie.”
“Yeah but I wouldn’t fuck with his feelings like that.” Steve knew what it was like to be led on. He wouldn’t do that to Eddie. “I’ll be careful with him.”
“And be careful with you.”
He saluted her as he walked away.
When he found Eddie sitting on the counter at the sink in the bathroom, he was swinging his legs back and forth and humming something distinctly less pop than what was playing on the dance floor. No one else was in here, but that didn’t mean no one would walk in.
He walked over to Eddie and placed a hand on his knee.
Eddie immediately stopped kicking his feet and looked up.
“What’s with the face?” Steve asked, reaching up to touch the line between his brows that always appeared when he was pouting.
Eddie shrugged. “Just not feeling it tonight I guess.”
“The music isn’t really your thing. Kinda surprised you like this place,” Steve said as his hand drifted down to his wrist. “Seems closer to a small club than a bar.”
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
Eddie’s tone was sharp, laced with jealousy. Even if Steve hadn’t had his realization five minutes earlier, he would’ve seen what that was from a mile away.
“I was until I realized I’d rather be out there with you.”
Eddie snorted. “I don’t really dance.”
“But you’d dance with me if I asked, right?” Steve’s fingers circled his wrist and he tugged Eddie off the counter. “Even if I asked you to do it right here with no music?”
“Steve, what are you doing?”
“Dancing. Or trying to.” Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s hips and started swaying them in sync with his. “It is hard without music.”
“Why don’t you go back out there?” Eddie’s hands went around Steve’s neck.
“Because you’re not out there. I don’t wanna be where you aren’t.”
“Steve-“
“You know I didn’t actually know I liked guys until tonight?” Steve huffed out a laugh. “Well, I really like this one guy. Not sure about others yet.”
Eddie was silent, but didn’t push Steve away.
“He was hiding in this bathroom though. I didn’t really think he’d join me out there, so I brought the dancing to him,” Steve winked.
“You like me? You? Like me?”
Steve nodded.
“And you just realized this?”
“Kinda.”
“In a queer bar?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s pretty gay, dude.”
Steve snorted and smacked Eddie’s chest. “That’s the point.”
Eddie moved in impossibly closer, no room for Jesus between their chests anymore. “So you lied when you came out to me?”
“I panicked! But it doesn’t actually count as a lie if I’ve seen the light.”
“Was it a rainbow light? Or the reflection of the disco ball in the glitter shorts Perry was wearing?” Eddie joked.
“Perry!” Steve smacked his own forehead. “He’s nice. Made me come tell you how I feel.”
“Oh. He did?” Eddie seemed shy for maybe the first time ever.
“Yeah. Said I should come dance with you if I’m in love with you.”
Steve hadn’t felt like this in a while, and hadn’t left his heart on his sleeve like this in even longer. As Eddie’s face went from shy to shocked to flustered, Steve thought about how long he’d been dancing around these feelings.
But no more dancing around them. Now it was time to dance with them.
“Can’t believe you just said you’re in love with me in the bathroom of a queer bar. Don’t even think they clean this place,” Eddie laughed, letting his forehead fall against Steve’s.
“I’ll tell you again outside.” Steve kissed his cheek. “And in the van.” His nose. “Your house, my house.” The corner of his mouth. “Everywhere.”
Eddie licked his lip, skipping over a soft kiss for a hungry one. It was hot, desperate, impatient. Everything Steve hadn’t known he needed.
Then again, he hadn’t even actually known he liked guys until tonight. Maybe he was just late to learn things about himself.
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heartyluv · 2 months ago
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Note: As requested, here you go! I hope I’ve done their ending justice in your eyes. The song I’ve attached…literally made my heart hurt in such a good way. Zayne just loves you so much. Have fun!
Creds to @/sweetmelodygraphics for the dividers!
Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!
Warning: Smut, Zayne is still cheating on his wife with you, Mentions of threatening to kill.
Word Count: 4,270
Summary: The happily ever after you and Zayne deserve.
Link to Part One ♡︎
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King!Zayne/Servant!Reader - Part 2
Zayne’s strong hands trail up and down your back as you ride him. You grind your hips back and forth to please your aching clit, pulling at his hair as your peak grows closer and closer. With the urge to come, you make him lay back, watching the soft expression of pure pleasure on his face as your hips rise and fall to feel his cock against your fluttering walls.
The soft light of the early morning sun welcomes itself into the room, casting you both in a gentle glow beside the current one you’re naturally producing because of the bliss you’re giving one another. It’s romantic, really. The birds chirp, a gentle breeze flows into the room, and even with a heavy dresser blocking the door to keep anyone from coming into where he and you snuck off after the sun had set last night setting the atmosphere off just a tad, it doesn’t take away from the way you’re feeling.
Alive. How else could one describe this happiness that you haven’t had in so long?
No, you still haven’t left. It’s been almost four months since that night you and the man whimpering your name shared in the dark library. He’s been assuring you for weeks that he’s close to finding a solution, close to giving you and him the life you’ve always wanted together. While you should be ecstatic, you’re nervous. Terrified. Because he won’t share anything with you.
“Just trust me, my love. I’m handling it.”
In all those weeks, you’ve shared secret times together. He’ll pull you into random rooms to ravish you, to bend you over and make you take his load before you leave to carry it in your panties all day. You can’t even begin to count all the times he’s kissed you so desperately when no one was looking, the eyes he gave you when you set his plate down before him, his mother, and his wretched wife.
Even if the sneaking unnerved you, it thrilled you just the same.
“I’m so close…” you breathe as he rests a hand on your hip, feeling his thumb caress your skin. With tinged cheeks, he tugs his bottom lip with his teeth before releasing the soft flesh.
“Come for me, pretty. I’m right behind you,” he moans.
Sex with Zayne has never been something you just do. It’s an otherworldly experience and you’re convinced it’s because of the history you share. You have to bury your face in his neck to suppress your sounds since you’re incapable of keeping them low. So he welcomes you with open arms when you start to kiss his neck, wishing you could suck on his skin to leave your mark.
He holds you tight as you start to shudder against him, your movement slowing as your orgasm rips through you like a monsoon. You nearly drool as you shiver, feeling his cum paint your walls. He pulses within you, kissing your shoulders with so much love while you both settle.
“Mm,” he smooches your chest. “Good morning, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is,” you hum as you smile. “We did forget our proper greetings earlier, didn’t we?”
“Can you fault us?” he smirks. “We’ll have to be more careful since she returns today. Its best that we satiate this desire as best as we can.”
Zayne’s wife, Hildegard, has been visiting her family for the week. With the excuse that he had dire matters to attend to and since she pays little attention to anything that wasn’t gold or a new dress, she didn’t bat an eye when she got on the carriage and bid him farewell. It works just fine for you. Her lack of care shows she has zero suspicion.
You and Zayne have been having sex like rabbits, unable to stop sneaking off to this one room when the day is done to be with one another. Since she’ll be back, you won’t be able to do this for however long.
“Will you and her still.. you know..?” you ask with uncertainty, afraid of the answer.
He kisses your lips, trailing your cheek with his thumb. “Absolutely not. No one touches your cock, not ever again.”
Your breath hitches at the way he gives you ownership of him. “You do belong to me, hm?” you start to kiss him tenderly, your tongues dancing as he follows your lead, adding intensity.
“Always. Just as much as you are mine.”
Your hips start to gyrate and Zayne uses his strength to flip you over. You still feel the slick between your legs, a mix of his cum and yours in your pussy making you feel like you need him to please you once more. You can’t stop squeezing him, leaving your legs open wide for the only man who will ever be able to see you like this.
“We need to get ready for the day, Zayne” you meekly protest, using his name to make him weak.
“We do,” he agrees. “But I don’t know when I’ll get you like this again. Please your king and let me fill you up again.”
“As you wish,” you whine when you feel him slip out all the way to the tip before gently sinking back in. “Your majesty.”
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When you’re finally out of bed and dressed, everything progresses as it typically does. All the royals sit at the table as breakfast is brought out for them to eat after their feast is dished to perfection.
Zayne’s mother, Alice, gives you a warm smile as you set her meal before her. You talked to her briefly a few days after your encounter with her son, to which she admitted that she had a hand in him confronting you. It made you feel good inside to know that she cares about you, even if you’re a servant. You admire her and the respect she has for your mother who dedicated her whole life to serving them.
She never told you how much of yours and Zayne’s relationship that she’s aware of, but all that you understood was that she knew there was something. The fact that she didn’t send you to death for it startled you even more. A servant sleeping with a married royal should’ve had you killed faster than you could blink. But she assured you that she vowed to care for you and that she loved you as if you were her own. To know that she approved of you more than Hildegard was a discovery you never expected. It shook your entire world, and you wondered if you could still end up staying even if Zayne’s attempt to bring you two together, failed.
When you give Zayne his food, you have to behave yourself and not think about the way he made you feel just a few hours ago. You can’t bite your lip, can’t smile, can’t look at him for too long, or your cover will be blown. But when he huffs out a laugh through his nose because of your swiftness, it became nearly impossible to hold yourself together.
Finally, getting ready to give Hildegard her food, you feel the sudden urge to vomit erupt in your throat. But you keep it down, doing your best to rid yourself of the random nauseating coil in your gut. The other servant who works beside you seems to notice you slow down in your efforts, quickly rushing to cover for you and handing Hildegard her dish. But just as quick as she noticed, so did Zayne.
His eyes narrow in concern, watching you without a care about who could be looking at his eyes on you.
“Dear?” Alice voices, her face contorting with worry as she looks over you rapidly. “Are you alright? You suddenly seem to have fallen ill.”
“I’m alright,” you mutter, feeling an increase in your body temperature.
“You are not allowed to get me sick,” Zayne’s wife shoos at you with a hand as if you’re nothing. “Whatever the matter is with you, find somewhere else to experience it.”
“Watch your mouth,” Zayne snaps, anger darkening his irises.
“It’s your wife’s first day of return, and you talk to me that way?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “As your queen, you’d think to treat me with more respect more than you do the help.”
Zayne slams the table, making the cutlery and everyone else in the room jump. “And as king of the entirety of this land, if I command you to mind your tongue, then there should be no further discussion or nonsense falling from your lips. You’ve been told what to do. It’s in your best interest to accept this command, should you wish for me to speak to you with even an ounce of respect.”
That shuts Hildegard up instantly and Zayne and his mother put their attention back on you. Before either of them can utter another word, the dizziness in your mind is stronger than your will to remain upright, and you find yourself collapsing to the floor as it all becomes too incoherent and blurry to understand.
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You don’t know when you fell unconscious, but in the time that you did, you’ve been brought to the medical room from the dining hall. You blink away the fuzziness, trying to understand what brought on the dreadful feeling you had.
When you turn your head to the left in the simple bed you lay in, you see Zayne. You’re surprised that he’s here, that as king he’d show such care for a servant girl so publically. He catches your movement, looking swiftly in your direction after staring at the wall for however long.
“You’re awake,” he sighs in relief, running a hand across your hair. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” you answer truthfully this time. “I don’t know what caused this.”
Zayne just stares at you, pressing his lips together. The atmosphere in the room seems to have shifted in a way that concerns you. Your eyes study his body language, trying to understand what’s the matter.
“Zayne?” you call to him gently. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
The way the corner of his mouth tips up gives you hope that everything is fine. His eyes dance with yours before he takes hold of your hand. He brings it to his face, making your soft palm glide against his chiseled jaw. You run your thumb across his bottom lip, a habit you’ve always done that he’ll forever love. It’s silent for a few moments as you give him time, despite your nerves.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispers. “We’re having a baby, love.”
You’re frozen. Everything that could go wrong plays in your mind. You could be shunned for having a child with a king, your child would never know what it feels like to have a purposeful life because of the shame, and worst of all? They’d never have access to their father in the way that they should because there’s no way he’d be able to be present in their life under the circumstances.
You’re not necessarily surprised that you’re pregnant. Zayne has finished inside you several times, but he’s pulled out more than he’s filled your womb with his seed. But all it takes is that one time. You start to think about the fact that you’ve missed your menstrual in the last two months, but you had chalked it up to stress, only because it’s happened before. When Zayne got married, you were so overwhelmed with negative emotions that you were irregular for a whole year.
Dealing with the uncertainty of your relationship, the sneaking around, the worrying—it’s taken its toll on you in these few months. It never came to your mind that you were pregnant.
“Say something,” he begs. “Are you not happy?”
“You are?” you ask with mixed feelings of hope and dreadful doom.
“I am. The only woman I’ve ever wanted carrying my child? A man couldn’t be given a more perfect gift.”
“I want to be happy,” your voice cracks. “But Zayne… you haven’t even figured out how we can stay together. How can you make it so that it is us and this baby? I can’t do this without you…” The tightness in your chest grows.
“You won’t,” he vows, kissing your palm that has now fallen slack against his face, but he still holds you firmly. “This newfound joy has only solidified my decision in what I’ve been contemplating for a while now.”
“Tell me,” you urge, needing some sort of comfort.
“I can’t…But in due time, my sweet. You’ll know. And you may not like it, but it’s the only way. Give me the week and it’ll all be fixed.”
And you had no choice but to listen to him. For an entire week that felt like years, you were put on rest. Zayne would not have you working and neither would his mother. You made Zayne promise not to tell Alice about the baby just yet, not wanting to make her think that there would be a chance at a happy ending or an heir to the throne, as the thought alone was simply foolish.
You were readying yourself in your chambers when a soft knock rapt against the door.
“Come in,” you respond. In enters Alice, smiling at you softly as she shuts the door.
“How have you been, dear?” She takes your hand, holding it between hers.
“I’m much better, your majesty. Thank your for checking.”
She hums, releasing your hand and placing her palm on your belly. “And the baby?”
Your eyes widen. You told Zayne—
“I see that frustration in your eyes,” she chuckles. “My son didn’t tell me, but a mother knows. I presume you’re what, almost three months if you’re not past that already?”
“I’m so sorry…”
“Nonsense,” she shushes you. “You are the greatest gift to my Zayne, making you even more precious to me. And you’re giving me my first grandchild... You’re sacred, young lady.”
“You accept this?”
“You must understand. I am a mother before I am queen. Many people would disagree with that, would say that I should put my royal duties above all personal matters, but even Zayne’s father knew that this kingdom could crumble and it didn’t matter to me, so long as I had my family.” She sighs as she looks into your eyes, her prestigious jewelry glistening in the light with each minor movement.
“I know that this kingdom is more than buildings and gold. It’s people with lives and they depend on people like Zayne to keep it all together. But family is who we have when the day ends, when the sun is set, when the weight of the world feels a little too much. At least, that’s what it should be. My reasoning in saying all of this to you is because I need you to grasp that you, Zayne, and this child… you are my family, you are my reasoning. Just like you and Zayne are each other’s purpose. We stick toghether, no matter what. Is that alright with you?”
Your nose burns as tears prickle in your eyes. You can’t help yourself and wrap your arms around her tightly, inhaling her familiar scent that has brought you so much comfort as long as you’ve been here. She’s always been like a second mother to you, and now she’s you’re only. You won’t take that for granted.
“Thank you so much,” you mumble. “It’s more than alright.”
“Perfect,” she runs her hand down your back. “And you must get ready. Zayne is giving an announcement to the kingdom today. He’ll deliver his speech above the courtyard on the grand balcony.”
You pull back with a raised brow, wiping away the stray tears. “Is everything alright?”
She gently holds your face in her hands. “It will be.”
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When you make your way to the balcony, you watch with unbridled nerves as the servants help make sure Zayne and Hildegard are ready to be seen. He looks at you once, winking briefly. You smile, but you wonder why he didn’t tell you that he was announcing anything today.
Still, of course you trust him. You stand in the back along with other servants and Zayne’s mother as the steward announces the “couple” before they step forward.
Everyone erupts in excitement, curious about what the king has to say since he’s only done announcements like this twice.
“It is delightful to see every single one of you, and I sincerely thank you all for making it a point to be present for this important day in history,” Zayne says with a raised voice so that he is heard.
“When I became king, the only thing I wanted to ensure was that I gave you all the same level of leadership that my father, his father, and all before him, gave you and your offspring during their reign. And it’s because of the level of respect and loyalty you’ve all shown me, that I believe I’ve succeeded in doing my part. But,” he grows silent for a few seconds. “It is with a heavy heart that I make it known that I am stepping down from the throne and as your ruler.”
Everyone collectively gasps. Hildegard snaps her head toward Zayne as if this is new information to her and when you look at Zayne‘s mother, she’s unfazed.
“The woman that I love is pregnant with my child. And no, she is not Lady Hildegard,” Zayne adds, and chills run down your spine. What is he doing?
“The woman I want to spend my life with has been apart of it since I was a child. I married Hildegard to create something that would benefit you all and your family for generations to come, but all it has done is destroy me. What good of a king can I be if I lose myself?”
“She is not of royal blood at all, and I have no shame in that. But in order to keep the alliance, it is best to merge the north and this kingdom together. In order to do that, there will be a proper transition of power between Hildegard and myself.”
Zayne could’ve simply divorced his wife whenever he pleased, but because he wanted to keep a promising future for his land and its people, he couldn’t dissolve the bond he married into. Even if he wanted you, till the end, he’d always be a worthy king.
“No!” shouts someone from the crowd.
“We object your ruling, sire!”
“We do not want an outsider ruling our land!”
Zayne’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. What are they saying?
One of the blacksmiths, a burly man, steps forward so that he’s seen and heard. “The people do not care about your marital affairs! We clearly understand that you wed Lady Hildegard for us, but your majesty, we have thrived as long as we have because of you and the rule of your family! Not because of some other kingdom we have no interest.”
An elderly lady steps forward next, her voice powerful. “We were well before the alliance was made with the north and we’ll be fine without it! You, the woman you want, and even your mother, have decades to lead us until we find the right solution! We want you as our king!”
Zayne’s mother looks at you with shock at the disapproval of her son stepping down from the throne. You can only think that the reason she spoke to you before this was because Zayne discussed his plan with her before he delivered it, but she’s thrown off by the response, not expecting such a thing.
“Have you gone mad!?” Hildegard shouts. “You’ve violated our marriage and you dare to try and get rid of me? Embarrass me in front of everyone?!”
She roughly turns around, her eyes finding you.
“It’s her, isn’t it? This pitiful excuse of a human!? The one you shouted at me over? I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her and that bastard child!” She goes to charge at you, but Zayne’s mother steps in front of you, making Hildegard halt.
“Remove her,” Zayne’s mother speaks, making guards move swiftly to grab the woman throwing a tantrum.
“Your land is nothing without the north! You and these people will suffer!” she shouts as she’s dragged away.
Zayne is so stunned by the loyalty of the people, of the events occurring in front of him, that he looks to you for comfort—like when you were kids. You can’t care anymore, rushing to him, to hold him in your arms. Behind you, everyone cheers as he swoops you up.
“You were going to dethrone yourself for me..?”
“For us,” he clarifies. “No title is worth being without you or my family. It never will be. But it seems I don’t have to choose.”
“This was your solution.”
He nods. “It was the best way for us to get what we want while I still uphold my anticipated final duties.”
“Marry her already so we can get back to work!” shouts someone else, making everyone laugh and eases the tension.
“Will you, my love?” He kisses your lips, happy to be able to now love you so openly. “Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Zayne,” your lip quivers. “I couldn’t dream of doing anything else. Yes, yes I’ll marry you!”
He slams his lips onto yours, holding you as close as he can while everyone claps in excitement. He never expected them to have his back the way they did, but now that he understands the bond, he’ll never do anything to break it. They value him and he intends to show them how mutual it is.
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Six Years Later
“Papa, mama, look! It’s another butterfly!” your daughter Leila exclaims as you all sit on a large quilt in the kingdom’s garden. It’s her birthday today and before you brought her into town for her annual shopping event, she said she wanted a pretty picnic.
Be careful, love,” you frown when she stumbles over her little feet, determined to get the white butterfly to land on her nose like one had done earlier. Her ponytail swings back and forth as she runs, her dress trying to catch up with her as it catches the wind.
Zayne chuckles, watching his little girl that’s a perfect mix of you both. He runs his hand across your belly gently, admiring how it grows your second child. You look over at him, leaning in to kiss his lips tenderly. He slides his hand behind your neck, intensifying the exchange.
After that day, Zayne divorced Hildegard immediately. He married you a week later, celebrating in town with all the people. You were their queen now, so it was a lot of joy to go around. Their loyalty made him realize that they are just as much of a family to him as the one he’s created with you. It’s become more of a habit for him to celebrate things with them, something they were more than happy to see.
Surprisingly enough, Hildegard’s father who ruled with an iron fist, still wanted to maintain the alliance despite Zayne divorcing his daughter and his infidelity. He admitted that he’s seen too much growth within his land and pockets to let go of it. He’s an example of a king who put his kingdom above personal things, something that could be admirable and distasteful all at once.
Everything just worked out so well, and you always feel like it’s a daydream, a miracle you never thought you’d be granted.
“Ew, papa!” Leila covers her eyes, making you smile as Zayne continues to kiss you for just a little more before he pulls back.
“Papa is ew, isn’t he?” you joke, making Zayne do nothing but admire you.
“Mama, can I hear my baby brother?” your daughter pouts cutely, something she’s grown to use to get what she wants.
“Of course, princess.” You open your arms as she kneels before you to rest her head softly on your stomach. Her and Zayne are convinced it’s a boy.
“He’s getting big, isn’t he?” Zayne adds as he runs his hand down Leila’s hair.
You nod as she sings a little song and tells the baby in your stomach that it’s her birthday today. Soon, Alice appears, walking toward you all.
“Grandma! Shhh, my brother is sleeping!”
Alice simply shakes her head with a smile. “The carriage is ready for us to make our way when you’re ready.”
“Go with your grandmother, sweetie. Let me help your mother,” Zayne asks. Leila rushes up, but not before kissing your belly. She takes Alice’s hand and you both watch them walk away.
“Wanted you for myself for a minute,” he whispers, kissing your neck. “I love you, terribly. You know that?”
“I do,” you bite your lip when he licks your skin. “We share the same notion, your majesty,” you tease.
He smirks. “I’ll shall see how true that is tonight. If you can take me.”
Your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing you were full of him right now. “I’ll never turn down something so delightful.”
“Good.” He stands, helping you up before folding the quilt and gathering everything else. “Shall we?”
You take his outstretched hand and you both make your way to continue the life you’ve been graced with. You’ve never been so happy in your life and you know that as long as you have your family, nothing could ever strip you from it. With them beside you, you’ll always be complete.
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@alyssac9 @dramaticalsachan
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revelboo · 9 months ago
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Are you okay writing for tfp Knockout or Breakdown? Maybe they are either another (human) racer or heck even someone who works at the car wash who gives some of the best cars waxes, Knockout befriended. That or maybe they’re a mech experiment (mostly) human survivor that helped Breakdown escape MECH. Or literally whatever you see happening these where just some of my suggestions. The floor is yours if you’re okay writing for them? Thanks either way 😄
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My Favorite Accident
Knockout x reader-race
18+ 🌶️
• Huh. Of all the ways you might have imagined you’d die, death by a furious, alien pimp car wouldn’t have made the top ten. Or hundred. Fingers going white knuckled on the helmet in your hands, you feel curiously numb. Drag racing was dangerous and sooner or later, you’d push your luck past the point of no return. But this?
• When you’d managed to pass that stupidly gorgeous, red sports car for the third night in a row, you’d wanted to laugh your head off. Maybe dance a victory jig because your old, rusty Trans Am looked like an ad for tetanus and it’d still beaten all those other pretty, expensive cars. So yeah, when the candy apple red car had followed you and stayed right on your bumper after the race, you’d sucked it up and pulled over. Letting the guy follow you to your house wasn’t happening. If you were going to get screamed at, it was going to be on your terms.
• You grab your switchblade out of the center console and slide it into your back pocket in case wealthy sports car guy decided he could try and bully you out of your winnings. Hip cocked and arms folded across your chest, you wait for the guy to get out and yell- probably accuse you of cheating.
• That sound was something you’d never forget, almost a musical thing as metal shifted and rearranged. And grew to tower over you in the form of a sleek robot.
• An infuriated robot as it takes a thunderous step your way and your helmet hits the asphalt. More than anything, you want to run. The problem is your body isn’t on board. You can’t move at all as it crouches down. “Mind telling me how you beat me in that scrap heap?”
• Cold fury sparking through him, Knockout glares down at the human staring up at him. “Well?” He demands. “You cheated didn’t you?” Because there’s no way a human beat him in that… abomination. It’s not even a car, more a mobile scrap heap. And that just makes it so much worse.
• Huh. Indignation wins out over common sense. “I’m a better driver,” you say. Those strange black and red eyes narrow and you have the thought that you can duck, grab the helmet and sling it at the robot. Maybe buy yourself a whole thirty seconds before it stomps you to death.
• What you don’t expect is for it to throw up an arm in all too human exasperation. “Hardly. I’ve been driving long before you were even alive,” it says, walking past you to stalk around your car. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to lose to… this? What it does to my reputation?”
• You can breathe now that it’s not glaring down at you, because it’s popping the hood on your car and shaking its head in disgust. “That’s gotta hurt, huh?” You snark, wincing as it glowers at you over its shoulder with murderous intent.
• “We’re going again. Now.” Because he can’t stand it. And it’s been a long time since anyone’s given him a real challenge. A thrill of electric anticipation makes him smile when your uneasy expression smooths into a cocky sureness, because he knows you won’t just let him win- you’ll fight him tooth and nail for it. A kindred spirit.
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