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mooncleaver · 5 months ago

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Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions.

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition.

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body.

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions.

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed.

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years.

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course.

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear.

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips.

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use.

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies.

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses.

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring.

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks.

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times.

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee.

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

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jetii · 5 months ago

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Home is a Place on Coruscant

Pairing: Captain Rex x fem!Reader

Words: 10,705

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, discussion of grief/death, some description of blood/injuries, mutual pining, friends to lovers, smut, dirty talk, a little brat taming, oral sex (m and f receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism but not really

Summary: You've always been there for Rex, and when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night after a devastating mission, you do what you do best: take care of him.

A/N: The start of this fic has been sitting in my notes app since the TCW season finale many moons ago, and it wasn't until I read this drabble by @djarrex that I felt compelled to actually finish it. Rex is my fav and he deserves to be taken care of.

It's been about a decade since I've published a fic and about a decade since I've been active on tumblr, so I decided to start from scratch with this blog. Feedback is very much appreciated! I have a few more drafts in the works for Echo, Howzer, Kix, Tech, and Hunter that I'm planning to publish depending on the reception to this one.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Rain on Coruscant was rare. But when it came, it came in torrents, and it came all at once.

In the early hours of morning, while the planet was still sleeping, the sky opened up and let loose a downpour that threatened to flood the lower levels. It was so heavy, it even drowned out the traffic noise coming from the speeders that were still flying over the city at the early hour. The noise was soothing, almost like a lullaby, and the sound of it woke you.

You were used to this sound. You were used to it, because you were used to not being able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. It was one of the many things about living in the Jewel of the Core Worlds that was taking you longer than you would have liked to adjust to.

The traffic noise, the bustle, the crowds—it all made your homeworld of Rion seem very far away. You could never hear anything over the speeder traffic here, and you likely would've gone mad long ago if not for the trickling of the fountain you kept in the main room. It had been your mother's. You were glad it had come with you when you moved.

The rain was heavy enough that you could hear it inside the apartment, a pleasant hum against the transparisteel. You sat in the window seat, arms folded around your knees, watching the rain fall. The view from your window was not the best in the Galactic City, but it was still quite good, and at night it was beautiful, all the lights of the skyscrapers blurring together in the rain.

The rain would be good for the plants.

You had a garden, a modest one. Some of the plants were native to your world. A few were native to Coruscant. Most were from other worlds. They were your pride and joy. Caring for them had given you something to do when you were adjusting to your new life here. You watered and pruned and tended to them all, and in the spring you were rewarded for your efforts.

Rex had been baffled, at first, by the sight of you out in the courtyard behind the complex, on your knees in the dirt, digging and weeding. It was a little piece of nature on a planet that didn't have much, and Rex was amazed that someone could take so much joy in something so… natural. It was nothing like what he'd been raised to appreciate, which was a good vantage point, a well-maintained blaster, and a plan.

When he'd told you as much, you had invited him to kneel down beside you, and, hesitantly, he'd done so. You handed him a spade and pointed to a patch of soil.

"See that little green leaf poking up?" you asked, and Rex followed your gaze. "See it?"

"I see it."

"Plant the spade right under it. When you pull it up, the root will come with it."

"Like this?" Rex had pulled the spade up, and a plant had come with it. He examined it, then tossed it aside, into the compost.

"That's perfect. That's just how you're supposed to do it. See, you're a natural."

Rex smiled, pleased with the praise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, let's get the rest of these weeds."

You'd worked in the garden until the sun was setting. Your hands had been dirty, and you had been smiling, and Rex had thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He would probably never tell you as much. He'd been trying to think of ways to tell you, and nothing seemed good enough. There was nothing good enough for you. So instead he told you about the missions he went on. And you listened. You always listened.

You wondered if Rex had heard the rain start. You wondered if it was keeping him awake, too. You wanted him to sleep. He was always so tired, and the last thing you wanted was for him to be exhausted when he came home from his mission.

If he came home.

It was an irrational thought. The missions were dangerous, yes, but the 501st had some of the best soldiers in the galaxy. And Rex was a good captain. A good leader.

But there was always the possibility. The risk.

You were intimately acquainted with the feeling of waiting for someone, and the way it tore you apart. It was a risk, being this close to Rex and the other clones of the 501st. It was a risk, feeling the way you did.

It was a risk, but you did anyway.

You look out at the rain, and the speeders that still flew through it. You wonder how they could fly through the storm, and not be afraid.

You're just about to turn away from the window when a noise behind you makes you jump. There, underneath the sound of the rain battering against the transparisteel, the sound of a knock at your door. You almost don’t think it is real, that it's simply a part of the soundscape of the rainy morning, but it comes again, three short raps.

You slide out of bed, fumbling to grab the clothes you tossed on the floor the night before. You don't bother to put on pants, but pull a long shirt over your head and tiptoe to the door, peering through the peephole.

The rain is heavier now, and the clouds are dark, almost black. The white shape in the hall is familiar, though, and it makes your heart race. You open the door, filling the small entryway with the scent of fresh rainwater and humidity.

"Rex," you say. "What are you doing here?”

He’s stoic, still and silent under your gaze, but you can see the tremble in his hands at his sides. The downpour seems to have washed the majority of dirt and debris from his armor, but bits of red still run through the cracks. An hour ago, he was likely covered with whatever the substance was — Umbaran dust or something more sinister — but the rain did well enough to wash it off.

He must’ve walked here, you realize, eyes widening. Your bottom lip pulls to worry between your teeth as you notice the new dents and marks on him. Carbon scoring on his shoulder plate, a tear in his kama, and what seems to be a blaster hole in his chest plate.

"I… I don’t know," he says after a moment. His voice is quiet, rough through the modulation of his helmet. It's as if the words are being dragged up from his lungs.

"I shouldn’t have. I… I should have called. I just… I had to see you.”

The words hang between you, suspended like the raindrops in the air. You feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. You can't believe he's here. He's here, and he's alive. You'd known he would be, but to see him with your own eyes, to have him in front of you, fills you with an immense sense of relief.

But something is clearly wrong. He's not saying what's bothering him, and you're almost too afraid to ask.

“Rex, what happened?”

You reach for him, only to have your hand meet nothing but humid air as he pulls back.

“It’s late, sorry for disturbing you—“

He turns to go, and this time you’re faster. Your hand encloses around his wrist and pulls him to a stop before he can take another step.

“Wait, Rex— please, just… stay. Just for a moment. Come in, you're getting soaked."

He lets out a slow breath and then, after a moment, he jerks a stiff nod. He allows you to drag him inside your apartment and, as the door slides shut behind him, he lifts his hands to the seal of his helmet. You watch him closely as he pulls it free and reveals the face beneath.

There are smudges of grime on his golden skin, and a deep furrow has formed between his eyebrows. He looks haunted, as if the shadows from the battlefield have followed him home. You want to smooth that line out with your thumb, but you aren’t sure he will let you.

You don't ask if you can touch him, but he notices the way your fingers twitch, and he knows you well enough to know that you're thinking about it.

"It's fine," he murmurs. He's never said no to you. "Go ahead."

He doesn't say please, and that hurts a little, but you're not surprised. Rex has been holding you at arm's length ever since he kissed you a few months back, and you know why. You just wish you knew how to help him.

So, you touch him. You brush your fingers across his cheek, wiping away the grime. You know that he doesn't need to be cleaned, but the motions are soothing. Your gentle touch is a balm, and you can feel his tension ease ever so slightly as you brush your fingers over his face.

"What happened?" you ask again, voice barely above a whisper.

"A lot." He lets out a slow breath and leans a little into your touch. He's exhausted, and he's relieved to see you, and the two warring emotions are pulling him in different directions. Rex opens his mouth to say more, but the words die on his tongue. He shakes his head, unable to continue, and closes his eyes.

"Come sit down."

You take him by the hand and lead him over to the couch. You sit first, and he follows suit, sitting a respectable distance from you. The distance doesn't seem right. When you'd met him, Rex had been so full of confidence, even when he'd been a little bit awkward, a little bit unsure. But the war had changed him. He was still the same man, still confident and brave and intelligent, but the weight of responsibility had settled on his shoulders, and the burden was crushing him.

You want to tell him it's going to be okay. You want to say it, but the words sound hollow in your mind.

You shift, moving closer, and Rex moves, too. The distance between you shrinks, and the tension eases. You don’t much care that he’s wearing armor, or that the rainwater is leaving damp spots on the upholstery.

Rex reaches for you, and his hands tremble. His gloves are damp, and his armor is cold, and the chill sends a shiver up your spine when he touches your knee. His eyes are distant, and he doesn't quite meet yours, and his expression is so, so sad.

“Hardcase is gone,” he closes his eyes to avoid seeing the look on your face. You can’t help but gasp at the admission, and a soft sob slips past your lips.

You had met Hardcase once, very briefly. He had been charming and charismatic and kind, if a little wild, and you had liked him immediately. He had flirted with you, and Rex had rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile behind his cup. Hardcase had been fun, and loud, and a little bit reckless.

You had not known him as well as some of the others on his squad, but the pain in Rex's eyes, the grief in his voice, was enough to make it hurt.

"Oh, Rex, I'm so sorry," you murmur.

Rex nods, and his jaw tightens. You can tell that he's trying not to cry, and you can't imagine how hard it must be, to carry such a heavy weight all by himself.

When he speaks again, your blood runs cold.

“We were betrayed. One of our own— one of the Jedi, he—" his breath hitches. “Oz, Ringo — Dozens of them, my brothers. They’re all gone.

"Betrayed?"

You feel like the bottom has dropped out from beneath you.

You knew the war was dangerous, and that Rex's job was dangerous, but the idea that it could go wrong in such a fundamental way?

The Jedi had always seemed so wise, and so strong, and so just. It had always seemed like there was nothing they couldn't do. To know that one of them could betray their men — could betray the Republic, and the innocent people of the galaxy — was too terrible to contemplate.

Your hand finds his cheek again, and this time, his eyes find yours.

They're shining, but his tears don't fall. He's a soldier, and he knows better than to show weakness, even here. You wish he would let himself break. You wish he would let you hold him, and let his tears fall, and let you help him put the pieces back together.

"Rex," you murmur, "I'm so, so sorry."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, and your thumb wipes away some of the wetness that has gathered there.

He pulls back for a moment, and you think he’s pulling away completely before he leans closer. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight to him as he buries his head in your shoulder. You immediately return the embrace, one arm over his shoulders while your other hand lifts to hold the back of his head.

You’re not sure how long they stay like that or how many tears are shed between you. After some time, he begins to speak, and you listen while running a soothing hand over his head, trying desperately to keep from sobbing outright as he tells you about the traitorous Jedi Pong Krell.

It’s by far the greatest atrocity you’ve ever heard, and to know that Rex has to put his helmet back on and get back to work in a matter of days makes you sick to your stomach.

He doesn’t deserve this, you think as you pull him into another embrace. None of them do.

Something about the motion causes him to wince, and you immediately release him to grab hold of both his shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

His hesitation is answer enough, and you can feel a wave of anger rise in your chest. How could they let him come back, in the state that he's in? How could they ask this of him, after all he's already done?

“I’m fine, cyare. Armor took most of it.”

If it weren’t for the way he avoided your gaze, you’d believe him, but instead you just feel yourself grow more upset. “What did Kix say?”

“Uh, he didn’t—“

“Rex, you were shot, and you didn’t think to get medical attention?”

His expression darkens, and you can see him withdrawing again. His shoulders pull back, and he pulls his chin up, and the distance between you grows again.

“I didn’t think much of anything, to be honest.” He mutters. It breaks your heart, but it also throws more coals on the anger burning inside of you. Not anger at him, you know, even though you can’t help but let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll be alright.”

“Like hell you will be,” you bite out before taking a step back to help him stand. “C’mon. Let’s get you patched up.”

You're angry. You're so, so angry. How could he let himself get hurt? How could he come here and not tell you about it? How could they send him home, to you, after all he's been through, knowing that he was injured?

But there's nothing you can do about any of that now, and being angry at him isn't going to help.

“You don’t have to—“ He protests through words only, allowing you to drag him through the living room and into the refresher.

“Yes, I do.” You shut him down quickly as you flick the light on and turn to rummage underneath your sink.

He’s still standing in the center of the room when you stand back up to full height, looking uncomfortable at your fussing. It’s not the first time you’ve had to patch him up, but so far it’s just been cuts and bruises. It’s unknown territory for you both, and he holds himself like he’s waiting for you to give up and shoo him out.

Your hands find his shoulders, and you gently push him down to sit at the edge of your bathtub. He’s pliant in your hold, but he meets your eyes with the worried pinch between his brows he gets whenever he thinks he’s upset you.

“Rex, let me take care of you,” you plead softly, and the furrow deepens.

He can hear the way your voice breaks. He can see the worry in your eyes. You're scared, and he hates that he's done that to you.

He should have known better. He should have taken a moment, to collect himself, before coming to see you. He shouldn't have let his emotions overwhelm him. He should have kept it together.

You were always there for him, and you listened, and he could tell you anything. He should have told you that he was okay. That would have been the responsible thing to do.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

And now, he can't seem to do the one thing you ask him.

But, after a moment, Rex relaxes. He’s never been able to say no to you before, and it is no different now. His shoulders slump a little, and the furrow smoothes, and you can't help but think that his face looks much nicer like this. You wish he wouldn't be so hard on himself.

"Okay," he murmurs.

It's all the encouragement you need. You lift his hand, cradling it gently, and begin to remove his gloves and armor piece by piece. You set the pieces aside, careful to keep them in order, and you know he appreciates that. It's a little thing, but it helps. You make a note to clean it for him before he leaves, the sight of the red smeared across its surface churning your stomach.

It's quiet between the two of you. The only sounds in the room are the rain and the gentle clink of plastoid against the floor as the last piece is removed.

You're grateful for the silence, though. You're not sure what you would say, and you know that he needs this, needs the moment to breathe.

"Where does it hurt?" You ask.

He hesitates. There's a lot of pain, all over his body. But you can't do anything about the pain that aches in his bones, or the ache in his chest. He doesn't know how to tell you about that.

"Chest," he finally admits. "Took a hit in the vest. Knocked the wind outta me."

That was an understatement, but you didn't need to know that. He could barely breathe, when it had happened, but the rest of his brothers needed him, and he didn't have the time to worry about his own injuries.

"Can you get it off?" You ask.

He gives a slight nod and reaches his arm up to grab the neck of his blacks, slowly pulling it overhead to reveal the skin underneath. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, and you feel a flush rising up your neck and onto your cheeks.

The only light in the room is the faint glow from the bulb above the mirror. It casts shadows across the planes of his muscles, and you can't help but drink in the sight of him. His chest is strong and broad, and a line of hair disappears beneath the waistband of his blacks.

There's a blaster mark on his sternum, just above his right pec, not far off from the scar in the center of his chest he’d earned on Salucemi. It’s weeping blood slowly, trickling down the curve of his muscle, and you can see the red, puffy skin surrounding the injury.

It isn't terrible. A few inches to the left, and it could have been fatal. A few inches to the right, and the armor could have deflected the bolt entirely.

Still, you know that he's in pain, and the knowledge is enough to make the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again. You force yourself to swallow them back and, instead, you reach for a damp cloth to wipe the wound clean.

He hisses at the contact, and you can see him grit his teeth against the pain. His hand moves to grasp the edge of the tub, and you can't help but feel guilty. You want to tell him to relax, to try and ease his suffering, but you know he wouldn't listen. He never listens, not when it comes to his own wellbeing.

"Sorry," you murmur, but the cloth keeps moving. You have to clean the wound, so you can treat it properly.

“Where’d you learn this, anyways?"

"What, first aid?" You're surprised by the question.

"Mhm."

“My dad was a swoop racer, believe it or not,” you say softly. You don't talk about him very often. It still hurts. But this feels like the right moment.

Rex tilts his head curiously, watching your face. You can see his expression soften, and you know he can tell how difficult it is for you to speak about this.

"Really?"

You nod, your eyes focused on your work. “My mom was always patching him up, and I’d sit on the counter and help out where I could. When she passed, I took over.”

“Isn’t swoop racing illegal?”

“Hm, not on Rion, it’s not.” You finish cleaning the wound and move to grab the bacta bandages. “Maybe if it was, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed."

You're not sure what possessed you to be so blunt, but the words are out, and there's no taking them back. Rex blinks, shocked by your honesty. You feel embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

"Sorry," you murmur, keeping your eyes low. "That was… I shouldn't have said that."

Rex says nothing. He knows better than to try and coddle you, and besides, you've always been the one doing the comforting, not the other way around. But it doesn’t sit well with him to see you like this, and before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches out to you.

His hand lifts, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can't help but lean into his touch. He's so warm, and his hand is calloused and gentle. He cups the back of your head, guiding you forward, and his lips press against your forehead.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as the cloth slips from your fingers, and you cling to him. You feel terrible, for complaining about the loss of your father when Rex has lost so much.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, and you're not sure if he means for asking or for Hardcase or for the war or for everything, and you can't bring yourself to ask.

“It’s alright,” you whisper back. He lets you pull away from him to busy yourself with sorting bacta patches, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"Is that why you came to Coruscant?” He asks softly, his tone careful and gentle.

Part of you wants to lie. You're tired, and you're hurting, and you're not sure you have the strength to have this conversation right now.

But the truth is already out, and if this will help him, you'll tell him anything.

You nod.

“He was actually really good at it,” you chuckle, and Rex can hear the bitterness in your voice. “But eventually he pissed off some powerful people who were placing the wrong bets. One day he left for a big race, and the next morning I found a box with his helmet at our doorstep. Or what was left of it.”

Rex sucks in a breath, and you can see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He knew about the helmet, he’s seen it on the shelf in your living room. But he hadn't known the full story.

You look back up at him. There are tears in your eyes, but they don't fall. You're smiling, and your eyes are sad, and his heart breaks.

“I tried to get the police involved, the racing league, anyone I could get to listen to me, but no one would investigate. I was so angry. Then I started getting threats. I couldn’t…” You shake your head, trying to rid the memories. "I couldn’t stay. So I moved here. And then the war started, and then I met you.”

It seems like a lifetime ago. The days before Rex felt like someone else's life, and you wonder how you ever managed without him. You'd been so lost, and so alone, and you'd felt like the universe was crashing down on you, and he'd pulled you out from underneath the rubble just by being there.

"I'm so sorry, cyar'ika," Rex murmurs.

You reach forward and gently lay a hand on his chest, pressing the bacta patch into place. His skin is soft beneath your touch, and you can't help but think, not for the first time, about how beautiful he is.

"I'm glad that you're here," you tell him softly. "That you made it back, I mean. I'm glad you came home."

Home. Rex swallows thickly.

He's never had a home before, not really. Home had been a word for people with families and futures. Home had been a word for normal, everyday people, not clones.

Home had always seemed like such a far away concept, something he'd never get to experience.

But, suddenly, the idea isn't quite so foreign. Home. With you.

"I'm glad I came back too," he finally murmurs, and his hand lifts to hold yours.

You're quiet, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, and his gaze finds yours.

There's something different between the two of you, something charged and heavy. You know you need to pull away. He needs to rest. You're both exhausted.

But you can't. You can't stop looking at him. He's beautiful, and he's kind, and he's the bravest person you've ever known. You've never loved anyone the way that you love him.

"Cyare," he whispers, and the word makes your heart stutter, even if you don’t know what it means.

He's not sure what comes over him. Maybe it's the way you're looking at him. Maybe it's the fact that, after the past couple of weeks, he thought he'd never see you again. Maybe it's that, for once, you're letting him take care of you. Maybe it's because you're so beautiful and you're so close and he loves you, he's so in love with you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can stand to go without saying something.

Whatever it is, he knows he needs to say something, and he knows he needs to do it now.

"I'm so glad I met you," he whispers, and it's the best he can do, but he hopes it's enough.

He reaches forward, and his hand finds the curve of your cheek, and the touch is enough to send a spark through your skin. You can feel the heat building inside of you, the desire pooling in your core, and the air in the room is electric.

"Me too," you manage.

His lips find yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and your arms wrap around his shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. You're pulling each other closer, as close as you can possibly get, and it's not close enough.

Rex moans softly against your lips, and you can't help the way your hips twitch, or the way you whimper into his mouth. You're both desperate, and eager, and it's the sweetest relief.

He stands and turns, lifting you up and sitting you on the edge of the counter, and his body presses against yours. Your legs part, welcoming him, and his hips slot perfectly between them. His hands are on your thighs, gripping and pulling and massaging the flesh.

"Rex," you gasp, breaking away from his lips.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips against your throat, his tongue and teeth working the delicate skin. He sucks at your pulse point, and you whine. You know that there will be marks in the morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Rex," you whine again, and you're not sure why, not exactly, because all you want is for him to keep doing what he's doing, to let him claim you and mark you and make you his. But you're overwhelmed, and you need to catch your breath, and his name is the only word your brain can think.

His fingers tighten, and his lips lift from your skin. He’s watching you with dark eyes and swollen lips, chest heaving.

"I need…" he trails off, and he doesn't finish the sentence, but you understand.

He's holding himself back. He doesn't want to push you, doesn't want to assume, but you can feel the need rolling off of him.

He's desperate.

You are too.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper.

Rex sucks in a breath. There are a lot of things that he could say, but the only thing he can manage is your name, soft and needy, and you can hear the way his voice breaks.

The sound makes you ache.

Your hand finds his jaw, and your thumb runs along his bottom lip. He's looking at you with the most adoring eyes, and your heart feels like it's about to burst.

"Please," he breathes.

It's all the encouragement you need. Your lips find his, and his hands find your hips. He lifts you off of the counter and into his arms, and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. His fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, grabbing and holding and massaging the flesh. You're not sure how the two of you make it into the bedroom. All you can think about is Rex's lips, his teeth and tongue and hands, and the way he's carrying you like you weigh nothing, his hardness digging into your hip.

It's a miracle he doesn’t trip over the pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

His knees hit the mattress, and he leans down to lay you gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a tenderness to his actions, a sweetness in the way he handles you, that makes you shiver. His thumbs trace the lines of your hipbones underneath your shirt, and he smiles at the sound of your breath catching in your throat.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, and the words are enough to make you ache.

His hands are so gentle, his face so earnest. He's always been so careful with you, and it makes you feel like the most important thing in the world.

"Yeah," you whisper, your hand coming up to rest against the side of his face.

Rex's smile is so beautiful, and it's so full of joy, and you can't help but return it. He turns his head and presses a kiss into the center of your palm.

His lips move, tracing the lines on your palm. His teeth nip gently at the tips of your fingers, and he watches as your breath catches.

He wants to take his time, to learn every inch of you, to map out the places that make you moan and the ones that make you scream, and the ones that make you laugh. He wants to kiss the scars and worship the stretchmarks and the freckles, and the dimples in your skin, and the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, and the birthmark on your shoulder, and he wants to show you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how special, how loved.

He'll do it, eventually. But not tonight.

Tonight, he just needs you.

His fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt, drawing it up slowly, and he can't help the groan that falls from his lips at the sight of you. You're suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that you'd never put on pants when you answered the door, let alone a bra, and you're almost embarrassed.

But the way Rex is looking at you after your shirt is tossed aside makes your stomach flutter, and the words die on your tongue.

"Mesh'la," he breathes, his eyes wide.

He can't seem to decide where to look, where to touch first, so you grab his hands and guide them. They slide across the planes of your stomach and over your ribs, and his fingers ghost the underside of your breasts, and your head falls back onto the pillows.

"Rex," you beg. "Please."

The sound of your plea is enough to spur him into action. His lips find the side of your neck, and his hand cups your breast, thumb finding your nipple and swiping over it.

You gasp, your back arching and hips bucking into his, and Rex moans softly. His teeth graze the line of your pulse, and he moves lower, and he pulls a nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whimper, your nails scratching at the back of his neck.

You can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He likes having this effect on you.

The hand on your other breast is kneading the flesh, and his lips are sucking at your nipple, his tongue tracing patterns on the delicate skin. His fingers pinch and pull, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.

"So sensitive," he hums, and the vibrations from his words send a tingle down your spine.

"Only for you," you breathe.

The words make his hips stutter, and the hardness of his cock presses into the wetness of your core. You can feel the outline of him against you, the heat and the thickness, and your breath catches.

You roll your hips into his, and Rex releases a groan, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of your breast.

"Kriff," he hisses, and the sound sends a shock of pleasure through you. Suddenly, you remember your promise.

"Lay back," you whisper, and his head lifts.

"What?"

You push at his shoulders, mindful of his bandages as you urge him backwards, and Rex follows your command. You move quickly, kneeling between his legs and grabbing the waistband of his blacks. You can see the outline of his hardness straining against the fabric, and you can't help but lick your lips.

"Can I?"

Rex's chest is heaving, his eyes blown black, and you can tell he's trying to process your question.

"Cyar'ika," he breathes, and the endearment makes your heart flutter. "You don't have to."

"I know," you tell him, your hand moving slowly up and down his thigh. Your head tilts thoughtfully. "Can I be honest?"

"Always," he replies.

"I've wanted to for a while."

You can feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck, and your eyes dart away from his. You don't know why, it's not like you've been hiding your attraction, but something about telling him is making you nervous.

"You have?"

His voice is soft, and his hand finds the back of your head. His touch is so gentle, and the surprise and happiness in his tone makes you bold.

"Yeah," you murmur, looking back up at him.

He looks stunned, but there's a light in his eyes, a warmth that you can feel spreading inside you too. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug. "I didn't want to push."

It's his turn to blush. It's cute, the way his cheeks flush, and his eyes dart away. He almost looks embarrassed.

"Since we're being honest…" He starts.

"What?"

"Me too."

Your heart stutters, and a wide grin stretches across your face. The happiness building inside your chest is competing with the desire that courses through you at the knowledge that he's thought about this, about you, and the idea is almost too much. You're sure you must look like a fool smiling this much, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"You've thought about it?" You tease.

"Yeah," he breathes. "All the time."

"Tell me."

He groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, and you can see the way his cock twitches at your words. "I… Kriff, I've imagined it so many times. How good you'd look on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, or bent over, with my hands on your hips, or straddling me, riding me."

"What else?"

You've moved closer to him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, and you can feel the wetness between your thighs. You've never felt so desperate, so needy, and all you want is him, any part of him.

"I think about it all the time. What it would be like to have you in the barracks, in the 'fresher, in the hangar. You on your knees in my office. Fuck, everywhere. It's all I can think about sometimes."

You can feel the wetness growing between your thighs, and you can't stop the whine that falls from your lips. It's almost too much, hearing the things he's imagined, the ways he's wanted you, the times and places, and the need and desperation behind his words.

"Then will you let me?" You ask, and you hope the answer is yes, because you can't imagine stopping.

"Please," he breathes.

"What was that?"

Rex's grip on your hair tightens, his gaze locked on yours as he speaks again, his voice is low.

"Please, cyare."

That's all the encouragement you need. Your eyes don't leave his as your hands pull at the fabric, slowly revealing his length. He's bigger than you dared to imagine, and thicker, and the sight of him is enough to make your mouth water.

His eyes are wide, his pupils blown, and his mouth is hanging open slightly. The blush on his cheeks is spreading down his chest, and the muscles in his arms are tensed.

"So perfect," you hum, and you're not sure if you're talking to him or his cock.

You wrap your hand around him, and Rex's hips stutter. Your thumb swipes over the head, spreading the bead of precum, and his eyes fall shut.

"So sensitive," you tease.

"Cyare," he warns. There's an edge to his voice, and it makes you grin.

Your head dips down, and you press a kiss to the underside of his cock, and his hips jerk. You keep pressing kisses along his length, your fingers wrapping around the base. Rex is struggling to breathe. He's not even inside of you yet, and it already feels better than anything he's ever experienced before.

He opens his eyes to look down at you, and the sight of you on your knees in front of him is almost too much. He's dreamed about this moment, and fantasized, and he never, not in his wildest dreams, imagined that it would feel like this.

Your lips wrap around him, and Rex can't stop the way his hips thrust up. His cock brushes the back of your throat, and you gag, pulling back slightly with tears in your eyes.

"Sorry," he gasps, his cheeks flushing.

You shake your head as much as you can with his length in your mouth, and your eyes flash up to his.

You like this, he realizes with a start. You like being used, you like the feeling of him fucking into you, and the realization sends a shock of pleasure through him.

You bob your head slowly, and Rex watches, transfixed, as his cock disappears between your lips. Your tongue runs along the underside, and his eyes fall shut again.

"Maker," he moans.

Your hand is stroking what doesn't fit into your mouth, and your other is tracing the lines of his thighs, and his abs, and his V-lines. You can feel the muscles tensing and relaxing under your fingertips, and you can see the way his hips are straining, the effort he's making to keep still.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you hum softly in response. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling gently, and his other hand comes to rest on the back of your head.

"Fuck, mesh'la," he moans, and the praise makes you preen.

You pull back, until only the head is between your lips, and swirl your tongue around him. He tastes sweet and salty and just the right amount of bitter, and you can't get enough.

"So good," he gasps. "So perfect, so beautiful."

He's babbling now, the words falling from his lips without him thinking about them, and you can't stop the grin. You'd always wondered if he was a talker.

"So perfect, cyar'ika, taking me so well." His voice is wrecked, and his breath is coming in ragged pants. "Feel so good. I could fuck your mouth all night."

His words make you shiver. He could. He could do anything he wanted with you, and you'd let him.

You move your head down, taking him as far as you can, and Rex's eyes open to watch you. You hold his gaze as his cock slides along the back of your tongue and hits the back of your throat, and you suppress the urge to gag.

"So pretty," he hums, his voice strained. "Such a good girl."

Your pussy throbs at the words, and the moan you release vibrates his length.

"That's it," he gasps.

You can feel the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, but you keep moving, keep taking him, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"So good, mesh'la, so, so good."

He's repeating the words, and you're not sure if he knows he's saying them. Your jaw is starting to ache, your lips are sore, and there's drool dripping down your chin, but you can't stop the soft whimpers and moans.

The sounds are enough to drive him mad.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and his thumb runs along your bottom lip, stretched around him. The gesture is so tender and loving, it's almost too much.

"Look at you," he breathes. "Kriff, I've wanted this for so long. So beautiful. So perfect. My perfect girl. You take me so well."

You hum again, and his head falls back, the movement pushing his cock deeper. You gag around him, and his hips stutter, a litany of Mando'a spilling from his lips. You're not sure what he's saying, but the words are making your cunt clench, the pleasure building inside of you overwhelming.

"I'm close, mesh'la," he gasps. "If you want to stop, you'd better— ah, kriff!"

You've pulled back, and the suction of your lips is incredible. Rex's hips are stuttering, his hands are tugging on your hair, and the sounds falling from his lips are enough to make your core throb.

"Mesh'la, please, I can't—"

His words die in his throat as you reach between his legs and roll his balls in your hand. The action sends him hurtling over the edge, and his hips thrust up one last time, pushing his cock down your throat as he comes.

Your throat works to swallow every drop. It's so much, more than you were expecting, and you struggle not to choke. His grip on your hair is borderline painful, but you don't mind. You can feel his whole body trembling, his breathing labored and his chest heaving.

You release him with a wet pop, and he shudders. You press one last kiss to the underside of his softening length, and he twitches, his body still sensitive.

"You're gonna kill me" he breathes.

"Hopefully not." You wipe your mouth, thumb catching a stray drop of cum and sucking it into your mouth, and you watch as his eyes darken.

He pulls you to him, and you climb back into his lap, his lips on yours. The kiss is slow and lazy, his hands running up and down your back, his body still shuddering from the force of his orgasm.

"Mesh'la," he sighs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "So beautiful."

His fingers trail down the side of your neck and between your breasts. They ghost the skin of your stomach and dip underneath the hem of your panties, and you can't help the whimper that escapes.

"Still want me?" You ask.

"Always."

His lips are on your neck, and his fingers find the wetness between your thighs, and you gasp. The noise that falls from his lips is filthy.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he groans. "You're soaked."

"That's your fault," you manage.

His teeth graze your pulse, and his fingers brush against your clit, making your hips buck.

"Can't help it," you gasp.

You can't stop the cry of pleasure as his thumb presses down. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant, and you're not sure why. You've made it perfectly clear that you want this.

"Rex," you whimper. "Please."

He presses another kiss to your lips, and the hand not between your thighs wraps around your back, holding you steady. He teases your entrance, and your breath catches, and then his fingers are slipping inside.

"Ah, fuck," you hiss.

You're so wet, so slick, and his fingers slide in easily. Just two fingers already feel so thick, and you can feel your walls stretching around him. There's a dull ache, but it feels so good.

"Cyar'ika," he groans. "Fuck, so tight."

His fingers pump in and out slowly, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Faster," you gasp. "Please, Rex."

"Shh," he coos. "Patience, mesh'la."

"Please."

"Be a good girl and be patient for me."

You whine, the sound muffled by his shoulder. He's being cruel, teasing you like this. You've already had him once, and now he's drawing it out. "Rex, I need you."

He hums softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. His fingers are still pumping in and out, slowly, agonizingly, and you know he's doing it on purpose.

"I need you," you whimper.

"I'm here," he whispers.

"No, I— ah! I need you inside me."

You can feel his breath catch, and his fingers stutter, and then his lips are at your ear.

"How do you want me, mesh'la?"

"Like this," you breathe. "I want to ride you."

His breath hisses through his teeth, and his fingers speed up. The change in pace is enough to make your head spin, and the noises coming from your mouth are embarrassing. You sound desperate, and you are.

"Fuck, Rex."

"So good," he hums. "Such a good girl."

A third finger slides in beside the other two, and the stretch makes your back arch. You're not sure when he had the chance to slick his fingers with your wetness, but he must have. He's not hurting you, and the feeling is incredible.

"Rex, I'm gonna—"

"Not yet," he cuts you off.

"Please, I need to—"

"You'll wait," he growls, and the command is enough to make your toes curl.

"Please," you beg. "I'll be good, I promise, just—oh!"

Your plea is cut off by a sharp cry of pleasure, and your walls flutter around his fingers, your hips rocking back and forth.

"I said not yet."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, and the words come out strangled. "I couldn't help it, you feel so good."

He hums, his thumb finding your clit, and the stimulation is almost too much. His lips find yours, and his free hand holds you steady as his fingers move inside of you.

You writhe on top of him, your legs shaking, and you can feel the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, and it's all too much.

"Please," you beg, and you're not even sure what you're asking for.

"What do you need?"

"Please," you gasp.

"Use your words, cyar'ika. What do you need?"

"I need— ah! I need you. I need more. Please."

He's torturing you, you realize. He's doing it on purpose, making you beg, punishing you for how you teased him earlier, and the thought of it makes your cunt throb.

"You've been so good for me, mesh'la. You think you've earned it?"

"Yes," you hiss. "I'll be good. Please, Rex, I'll be a good girl."

He can't say no, not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your lips are parted and your cheeks are flushed, and the look in your eyes is so desperate.

"Okay," he concedes.

You let out a sound of relief, and his fingers are slipping out of you. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth, and the action is enough to make you groan. You rise off of him, legs trembling, and hurriedly push your panties down and toss them aside.

He looks up at you, and there's awe in his eyes, a reverence, as his hands settle on your hips to guide you back to him. Your hand wraps around his cock, lining him up, and the two of you gasp as his head breaches your entrance.

"Take your time," he whispers. “You don’t have to—fuck!”

You sink down, taking him fully in one smooth motion, and Rex can't stop the low, guttural moan that escapes.

"You said to take my time," you say, and there's a cheeky lilt to your voice. He opens his mouth to argue, but the words die in his throat. "So I took my time."

You can't stop the grin. The look on his face is almost too much. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest is heaving. His lips are swollen from the kisses, his eyes wide and his pupils blown. He looks good like this, you think, and you've never seen him so undone.

"Cyar'ika," he finally manages.

You hum, circling your hips, and his grip on you tightens. Your pace is slow, savoring this feeling unlike anything you've ever experienced. He's bigger than anything you've ever had inside of you before, filling you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You're still adjusting to him, and your movements are slow, but they're steady, and you can't help the soft whimpers and gasps.

Rex is struggling to breathe. Your heat is so warm and so wet, your walls are clenching around him, and the sight of you is almost too much. The way your head is tipped back, your eyes closed and your mouth open, the sounds you’re making, and the way his cock is disappearing inside of you over and over again, it's all so much. He can't believe this is happening.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse. You gasp before pushing on his shoulders, and his back hits the mattress. You lean over him, your hands reaching to grasp the headboard, and the new angle makes the both of you exhale. It also makes your breasts hang tantalizingly in his face.

Rex is not one to waste an opportunity.

He leans up and closes his lips around one of your nipples, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck. Your pace speeds up, and his hands grip your hips tightly, helping to guide you.

"Oh, kriff," you gasp.

He releases your nipple with a pop and moves his attention to the other, and the sound you make is almost enough to make him come right then. He can’t help but shift his hips, moving them up and down in time with your thrusts, and you pull away from him to give him a look of warning.

"Stay still," you order.

"Or what?"

You raise an eyebrow, and Rex shivers. You're not sure what makes him react like that, but it sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

"I'll stop."

His jaw drops, and his eyes widen. "You wouldn't," he says.

"That’s an order, Captain," you say, and his cock twitches inside of you. You can't help the wicked smile. You’re learning a lot about him today.

"You're the worst."

"You love it," you retort.

His hands move to your waist, and he pulls you closer.

"I love you," he breathes.

You can feel yourself clench around him at his words, and he hisses through his teeth.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Your lips meet his, and his tongue slides into your mouth as his hands roam your body. You can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, his lips are warm, and his breath is hot, and his body is so close to yours, the feeling is overwhelming.

He's everything.

"I love you," he says again, his voice hoarse.

"I love you, Rex."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"It's true," you gasp.

His hips stutter, and you pull away, giving him a look of warning, and his jaw clenches.

"Sorry, cyar'ika. I couldn't help it."

"I know."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Wh— ah!"

You cry out as his fingers find your clit, and your walls flutter. The movement sends pleasure shooting through you, and your legs shake, the pace of your hips unsteady.

"That's it," he coos. "Come for me."

"Not yet," you gasp. "Need you to— oh, fuck, Rex."

His hips snap up, meeting your thrusts, and the new pace is relentless. He's chasing his own release, and you're right there with him. You can't take it anymore.

"Please, please, I can't—"

"Go ahead," he urges.

You can't stop the cry that tumbles from your lips. You can feel the orgasm building, and your hips are bucking wildly.

"I can't—I can't," you sob.

"Come for me, cyar'ika. Come on my cock."

The words are enough to send you over the edge, and he swallows your cries of pleasure. You're trembling above him, your nails are digging into his skin, and the pressure of his fingers against your clit is enough to make your hips jerk.

"Kriff, I can feel you," he breathes. "Your little pussy is squeezing me so tightly."

"Please," you beg. You're not even sure what you're begging him for.

All you know is that he feels so good, and you're so sensitive, and the sensations are too much and not enough.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Good girl."

"I can't, I can't, I can't-"

"Shh, shh, it's okay."

He's so gentle even as he sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the end of your channel, and his fingers are rubbing frantic circles around your clit.

The pressure is almost painful, but it feels so good.

"Oh, fuck, Rex," you cry out.

"Come again," he demands.

"I can't," you protest. "It's too much."

"You can," he counters. "Do it for me."

The words send a thrill through you, and you can feel the pleasure building. Your walls are fluttering around him, your hips are bucking, and you can't control the noises coming from your lips.

"That's it," he growls.

Your orgasm washes over you, and this time it's stronger, tears spilling over as his name falls from your lips over and over again. You can feel your release gushing out of you, coating his cock and the sheets below.

The sight is so filthy, but it only seems to spur him on. Rex grips your hips tight enough that you know you’ll bruise, and the thought sends another thrill through you. You want him to leave his mark. He fucks up into you with a force that has the headboard slamming against the wall, and his thrusts are losing their rhythm.

"I'm so close," he breathes.

You're barely coherent, but you can't help but latch on, his words sending another rush of heat through you. "You gonna come for me, Captain?"

He shudders, and his eyes flutter shut, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He can't find the words.

"You've been so good for me," you purr breathlessly. "Let go."

You can see the tension leaving his shoulders, his jaw slack. His breath is coming in shallow gasps, and his thrusts are unsteady. He's teetering on the edge, and all it takes is a few more words from you.

"Fill me up."

"Cyar'ika," he warns.

"Do it," you order.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he breathes. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming, I'm—"

He curses, his head falling back against the pillow, and his cock pulses as he spills inside of you, his hands tight on your hips to hold you down. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, and the sensation is enough to make the corners of your vision darken.

"I can feel it," you murmur. "I can feel you, kriff, Rex."

He groans, his arms pulling you down, and you collapse against his chest. You're not sure how long you stay like that, just holding each other. You can't feel anything except him, his hands running up and down your spine, and his lips pressed to the top of your head.

“So,” you say after a while, and he can hear the smugness in your voice.

You tilt your head, and the look he gives you is withering.

"Don't start," he warns.

"Captain, huh? I didn't know that was your thing"

"That's not—"

"What? You don't want to talk about the fact that your cock gets hard when I call you Captain?"

On cue, the appendage in question twitches, and Rex closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not— ugh, kriff," he mutters.

You can't stop the laughter that bubbles up.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," you coo.

"Don't patronize me," he says, but the words have no heat behind them.

"I'd never dream of it, sir."

You can see the blush rising in his cheeks, and his eyes darken.

"That's an order," he grumbles.

You lean up, brushing your lips against his, and the touch is soft and gentle. He melts into it, his hands resting on your waist.

"Yes, Captain," you say.

"I can't—kriff. You can't say things like that, mesh'la." His expression is pained, and the sound that escapes him is almost a whine.

"You're right," you agree. "I can do better."

He raises an eyebrow, and his jaw drops as your fingers wrap around his wrist. His eyes follow the motion as you pull his hand between your thighs. You let out a satisfied moan as his fingers dip between your folds, and he can't tear his gaze away from the sight of his seed dripping from your cunt when his softening cock slides out of you.

"You're a mess," he says reverently.

"I'm a mess because of you."

He hums, his fingers gathering some of his spend and sliding it back into you.

"Is this what you were imagining, Captain?"

He shudders at the title, and his hips cant, his cock stirring to life.

You can't help the grin. "It is, isn't it?"

"You're terrible," he growls.

"Oh, I'm not terrible. I'm the best you've ever had."

He lets out a breathless laugh. "You're the only one I've ever had," he admits.

You pull back, staring at him in surprise, and the look on his face is unreadable.

"Are you— are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," he says, brow raised.

"But--"

"Cyare, I've only ever wanted you." His words are simple, and they're said with a conviction that steals the breath from your lungs.

"Oh."

You're speechless. You're not sure what you'd imagined the past few months. You're not even sure if you'd ever given much thought to it, but the idea that you're the only person who has ever made him feel like this is dizzying.

"I've loved you for a very long time," he confesses, and the words make your heart ache. "I never thought—kriff, I never thought you'd feel the same."

"I love you," you say firmly. "So much."

He grins, and the smile is so wide that his cheeks are dimpling. You can't resist. You lean down to kiss him again, and the way he holds you, like you're the most precious thing in the world, makes the feeling in your chest bloom.

"I'll say it every day for the rest of our lives, if that's what you need," you say.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he murmurs.

"I wouldn't," you promise.

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze intense, and his grip tightens. You can see him steeling himself, and the words he speaks make you shiver.

"Good, because I intend to marry you someday."

"Someday," you echo. You're not sure if you believe him, if that's even possible for you, but you believe that he believes it.

"When the war is over," he confirms. "When the fighting is done, and we've finally got a chance at peace, I'll give you the galaxy, cyare. And a family, if you want one."

"Rex, I—" You swallow thickly, and he can see the emotions flickering across your face. His fingers are drawing shapes on your hip, and his eyes are locked with yours.

"I'm not asking for an answer now," he says gently. "I just— I want you to know how serious I am."

You nod, and the silence that stretches between you is heavy.

"You really mean it," you finally say.

"Of course I do."

"What happens if—"

"There is no 'if.'" His tone leaves no room for argument, and he shifts, sitting up. The new position brings you into his lap, and your knees are straddling his waist. He rests his forehead against yours, and his breath fans across your face.

"Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"Together," you murmur.

"I'm with you. Always."

You close the distance, kissing him softly. It's nice, holding him like this. The feeling of his arms around you is enough to drive the fears from your mind, pushing them to the furthest corners. You can feel yourself relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders, and his hands roam your body, exploring every inch.

"You know," you begin, your voice quiet, and your lips brush against his with every word. "I'm still waiting for a tour of the barracks, Captain. Oh, the hangar too."

His breath hitches, and you can feel him starting to harden again under you.

"Cyare," he breathes.

"I'd love to see your office," you continue, and his eyes darken. "You can give me a private tour, just the two of us. I'll wear a skirt, and you can bend me over your desk."

His cock is fully erect now, and he can't stop the groan.

"And the showers," you purr, gently rotating your hips. "I bet they're big. Just big enough for the two of us. We could get the water nice and hot, and I could drop to my knees..."

"Kriff," he swears.

"Or…"

He's breathing heavily, his fingers digging into your skin.

"We could do that now," you offer.

"Cyare." His tone is pleading, and the sound sends a thrill through you. You can feel the ache building between your legs, and your thighs are sticky.

"I'm already dripping wet," you whisper.

"That's it."

He moves so fast that it makes you yelp, and the next thing you know, he's on his feet, carrying you, and your legs are wrapped around his waist. He walks swiftly towards the 'fresher, and the feeling of him sliding against your core makes you shudder.

"You're going to be the death of me, cyare," he murmurs.

"Maybe," you concede. "But I think we can agree that it'll be a great way to go."

The door slides shut behind him, and the sound of his laughter is enough to make you melt.

"A great way to go," he echoes.

You know the path ahead of you is treacherous. You know there will be more battles, and more losses, and more nights where you're unable to sleep. You know there will be pain, and fear, and sorrow.

But there will be hope too, and joy, and happiness. A home, and a family, and a future.

It will be worth it.

#captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x you #rex x you #clone x reader #clone smut #x reader #clone captain rex #i literally had a dream about rex last night so it's time to pull the plug and post this #roy writes

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ddarker-dreams · 8 months ago

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yan blade is susceptible to manipulation.

making the most of this involves the unenviable task of initiating contact. no one can fault you for your hesitation. gravity itself feels intensified in his vicinity. the lives he's taken, the shadowy madness that recedes when you approach and proliferates in your absence; it screams do not approach. blade himself doesn't do much to dispel your concerns either. he towers over you in height, maintains a stony countenance, and speaks in this sonorous voice that adds to his imposing image. every step you take to close the gap makes you feel impossibly small.

inhospitality aside, it's not so bad once you overcome the initial hurdle. blade regards you with the same curiosity you direct toward him. had it not been for your purple-haired co-kidnapper's intervention, you never would've amassed the courage to come this far. her words spurred you on.

"you've yet to understand the unique position you're in," she began, whilst painting your nails a bloody red. "bladie's nothing but a big ol' softie for you. why whimper and tremble like a wounded pooch when you could make him your attack dog instead?"

this proposition piqued your interest. you're not so foolish as to believe kafka offered this insight out of the goodness of her heart — whatever came of it would surely be for her entertainment — but it still left an impression. considered from this angle, it'd reframe your entire dynamic with blade. his wretched affection is yours. a commodity that, if leveraged properly, could be monopolized.

when standing before him, every iota of his attention orbits around you. harnessing this celestial power takes but a few flirtations. coil your trembling arms around his neck, draw him down toward you, speak his name like it's a blessing or curse. he's enthralled and intensely focused on what might happen next. your future splits into infinite paths instead of congealing into one, unhappy ending.

whether he knows your true intentions or not is inconsequential. weave your lie prettily enough and he'll remain willingly ensnared.

#i had a dream about him last night. so he is on the Mind today #honestly... out of the husband rotation i could handle yan blade the best #yandere blade x reader #yandere x reader #yandere hsr x reader #blade brainrot #concepts

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qingxin-dream · 10 months ago

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“Whiskey”

summary | he likes this side of you. vulnerable. honest. eager to please. who is he to deny you in your time of need?

warnings | not proofread, profanity, possessive, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader, reader wears a skirt, lots of teasing, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, grinding/panty-fucking, degradation + praise, rough sex, a sprinkle of dacryphilia, creampie

genre | smut (happy valentine’s day❤️‍🔥)

word count | 2k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓗umans are truly fascinating.

There’s this innate sense of wonder in those reflective violet eyes of his—one which begs to be satisfied. You can tell just by the way he looks at you with an imperceptible quiver of his soft lips that he may be debating on lashing you with another sarcastic remark.

You find yourself more enamored by the possibility the puppet might be persuaded to throw caution into the wind and finally give you that taste of him you’ve been so obviously craving. The slight aroma of whiskey piques his interest further.

After all, alcohol has a tendency to remove a human’s superficial barriers in expressing their true thoughts. Some even claim it to be an aphrodisiac.

Wanderer’s mouth curls up in amusement, enjoying the predicament you have presented before him.

Here you are, his precious little companion who guards her heart with awkward excuses and shy apologies, all tangled up with him against the wall. If you were a bit more sober, he’d delight in your typical reply—a small shriek of embarrassment followed by a deep, pink flush of your whole face.

This time, however, you are the one to plead for his touch.

“Scara… I mean, W-Wanderer,” you whine into his collarbone, beginning to grip his white robe just above his belt. You liked feeling the contours of his body, but not openly. No, you’ve tortured yourself with a game of accidental touches and fleeting brushes of skin. Every time it’s as if you get another piece of the puzzle to his silhouette, sparking your imagination as to what the full picture might look like.

“What? A little alcohol and you can barely call me by my name,” Wanderer muses in a low tone, his hand drifting to the dip of your waist where it perfectly slots into your form. His other hand is presently preoccupied, nearly pinned to the wall behind him and fingers lazily intertwined with yours. “I never cared for titles anyway, but… Master has a nice ring to it.”

“Dick,” you curse instinctively, rolling your eyes. Your displeased scoff trickles over his sensitive collarbone. Out of spite, you seriously consider sinking your teeth into his neck to leave a bruised mark on his pretty skin.

Archons, you don’t even recognize your own impulse anymore.

“Not yet,” he tuts, unable to resist the smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The hand on your waist slips away, taking his warmth with it. Wanderer leans in close enough so your noses are nearly touching, a newfound fire in his eyes. He waits a beat, his words drawn out in a slow, breathy whisper in an attempt to mask his own desperation. “I want you to cum all over my fingers first.”

The puppet’s eyes are trained on you like a predatory hawk, reveling in all the ways your body responds as he hooks his fingers on the hem of your underwear, yanking it down just below your skirt. Before you can protest, his long, slender fingers dipped into your needy hole, dragging your wet slick towards your clit to lubricate your folds for him.

Your knees practically buckle on the spot with a little cry of pleasure and surprise. Blissfully unaware, you whimper and try to lean in further to silently beg for some semblance of affection. Something to keep your mind from reeling like crazy. Even just a kiss will do. As much as you hate him for reading you like a book so often, you couldn’t be more turned on by his willingness to indulge you.

Merely the thought of his cock filling you to the brim has your hole fluttering with anticipation and he’s only touched you once.

“Mm, it’s so good,” you whimper with need, slowly bucking your hips in rhythm with his fingers circling your clit. When you have the strength to open your eyes again, Wanderer is marveling at your delectable expression. Within seconds, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss that burns like a candle—patiently but passionately.

A soft moan escapes you, swallowed eagerly by Wanderer’s tongue slipping into your mouth. He wants to hear it again, though the sound of his fingers in your pussy is a close second. He grunts with a bit of laughter as a particularly delicious thought crosses his mind. The puppet keeps rubbing your puffy clit at a steady pace, occasionally slipping two fingers barely at your entrance.

The instant his fingers teased your core, you melted into him, chasing after that sensation once more. “Oh my god… it’s so fucking hot. Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Wanderer coaxes you with a tender but playful undertone, feigning innocence to your question. He quiets you with a few more decadent kisses, maintaining that pressure-building pleasure concentrated on your clit.

You struggle to maintain what little composure you have left. You’re trying your damnedest to be good for him, but you can’t help the shaky whine purring deep in your throat. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to say it. “F-fuck me. Please.”

“Mhmm,” he moans freely and heavily onto your lips, nodding into another kiss with excitement. The puppet hears you. He knows you are beginning to feel a wave swelling in your lower stomach at his ministrations, ready to crest over in a magnificent release. “But what if I want you to cum all over your panties, hm? I want you to earn it first.”

Wanderer pumps the tips of his fingers into you just to bring you closer to the edge before quickly returning to your overly-sensitive nub. You can’t take it anymore, you’ll do anything to convince him otherwise. Biting your lower lip, you mewl, “Why don’t you cum in them instead? I-I just need to feel you…”

He chuckles lightheartedly at you, finding your desperate state to be cute. The glassy look in your eyes as if you could cry at any moment is the cherry on top. Perhaps he is feeling merciful today. You yelp with surprise when the puppet replaces his index and middle finger with the wet slap of his cock against your pink folds, grinding it between them.

“Fuck, yes,” sighing heavily, you relax against Wanderer, sucking in a breath with each thrust of his tip that reaches your entrance. You’ve completely surrendered to the intoxicating image of his cock pushing into your tight hole, cursing under your breath. All your needy moans are his for the taking, swirling his tongue against yours in a steamy exchange.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, it’s pathetic,” the puppet chuckles, but his words are hardly degrading. Rather, his low baritone is steeped with lust. Without warning, he removes your panties entirely to lift you by your hips, pressing your back flush to the wall and sheathing the leaking tip of his cock inside your warmth repeatedly. “Is this what you wanted? Huh?”

“A-ah!” your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape at your lover’s unexpected but very much welcome intrusion, looking down at how your pussy is taking him in by the inch. There’s already a ring of fluids beginning to gather around his tip. “Yes, mm, please… more. Fuck.”

A snicker resounds from his throat as he slowly sinks himself into you, watching with utter fascination as you struggle to adjust to his girth. Cooing sweet nothings into the shell of your ear, Wanderer shifts so that you’re pressed to the wall entirely by his pelvis. Your spongy walls flutter and throb around his thick length, spurring him to grab your face firmly by the jaw. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Look at you, so pretty for me. Kiss me.”

Little did you know that the sweet relief of his plush lips on yours was but a distraction. While you wrapped your arms around his neck, Wanderer slides his cock out to your wet entrance, fucking just the tip inside you. The moment you began to show signs of protest, he plunged deep into your pussy with an audible smack of skin. You let out a cracked yelp.

“What was that, baby?” he moans into your mouth teasingly, a hand squeezing lightly on your jugular. It was just enough to make you a little dizzy and drunk on his cock. That much was evident as the puppet pulls out for the umpteenth time to overstimulate your hole.

“I-I…” you stutter out breathlessly, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Your mind was empty. Only the tantalizing sensation of his cock dragging against your walls could make your world turn once more.

With a sinister giggle, Wanderer silences with you with another sloppy kiss. When he buries his cock into you abruptly this time, you babble incoherent nonsense about cumming. He takes advantage of it, thrusting his hips at a fast pace and practically fucking you into the wall.

“Yeah? You wanna cum? Fuck… you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice morphs into a hiss as he attempts to delay his own impending orgasm. Your head rolls back in ecstasy, on the brink of release as Wanderer drills your cunt wildly, ripping loud moans from your parched throat.

Just as you were hurtled toward the precipice of your orgasm, Wanderer lifted you off of his cock and the pressure in your stomach dissipated. The emptiness inside your walls was unbearable. Marching into the bedroom, he positions your ass up on the bed and immediately splits your pussy open with his throbbing cock again and again.

“Shit, shit, yes. I fucking love it. I love you so much,” you growl into a pillow raggedly, a dreamy, fucked-out look in your eyes as he pounds into you.

The puppet yanks the pillow out from underneath you, wrapping your hair around his fist so he can make sure you don’t dare stifle your praise and moans from him. “You fucking like that? Being my little cocksleeve, yeah? Lemme hear you say it, baby. Mine… all mine.”

You are completely dazed by Wanderer’s cock fucking you as if he wanted to make a permanent impression of his curve in your soft pussy. He was ready to pump you full of his cum. His fingers tighten on your hair slightly, and you’re reminded that you were given a command. “Mm, mhmm! Y-yours…”

“My what?” he presses further, mesmerized by the ripple of your skin every time he thrusts into you from behind. His hand smacks your ass as a warning.

“Y-your cocksleeve!” you blurt out with tears beginning to pool in the corners of your eyes. The overstimulation at this point is the perfect concoction of pain and pleasure, driving you to the edge. Your eyes start to roll back a little, succumbing to the hypnotic sensation of his veiny cock burying itself in your core.

Wanderer releases your hair, possessively planting his hands over your hips to deepen his thrusts. “And what do good cocksleeves do?”

“T-take… your cum… a-ah, fuck. That’s it. That’s it. I’m gonna cum!” you reply with the last remaining ounce of your willpower. Your entirely body tenses and spasms with pleasure as a litany of profanities and prayers spill from your lips. You’ve never had an orgasm as intense as this, you can’t control your own bodily response.

Wanderer immediately pulls you in, his muscular chest pressed to your back, cooing and shushing you gently as he succumbs to his own orgasm. You can vividly feel his cock pulsating inside your warmth, spurting hot, thick ropes of his seed across your gummy walls. “That’s okay, cum for me, baby. I love you so fucking much, yeah. Shhh…”

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sex. Your lover’s grip never falters. Instead, the puppet gently kisses the crook between your neck and shoulder.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise. You’re my good girl.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

#wet dream material🤤#literally me last night ngl #[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut

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simonghostlovely · 2 months ago

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Soaping Together

Pairing: Husband!Simon Riley x Wife!Reader

Tags: NSFW, unprotected sex, p in v, slight spanking? slight edging? idk

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: you and your husband badly needed some quality time to relax and pamper each other when he came from deployment (you insisted to take care of him and he didn’t understand why this was a big deal but gave in when he saw how much efford you put into it)

You heard him walking through the door and you rushed your way to him leaving whatever you were doing in the living room. Giggling softly when he embraced you, feeling his big hands wrapped around your waist and lifted your feet off the ground. He had his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent he longed for.

You were the first to break the silence, "I missed you so much, Simon..."

"We missed you so much..."

"I missed my babies, too." he caressed your face and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked beaten and he could barely keep his eyes open while trying to smile but when you told him he can rest if he wanted to, he chose to spend some time with you and his boy first.

Holding him in his lap at the dinner table,

“Hello, stranger!” he said to his son who was back to acting like his dad was a stranger -since it has been a few weeks he last saw him and that's literally what babies are like- it didn't stop him feeling offended and missed out so he needed to remind himself by singing a lullaby he liked so much to break the ice.

The baby stared at him with wide eyes, frozen, with a teething toy in his hands. Holding on for dear life.

“Give him some time, Simon. He’s gonna get used to you in no time. Remember last time?” you said smiling to soothe him when you saw him frowning.

Later, he was shoving all his favorite food you prepared for him into his mouth. Then he joined the two of you while you were giving your baby a bath and started rolling his sleeves, you realised he was joining you.

Him taking a little amount of shampoo in his hands making little spikes of the baby's hair made you both laugh. Your baby was playing in the water and giggling too.

It was a sight for sore eyes and you couldn't be happier. Your sweet, sweet boys… how did you get so lucky?

When you were done washing him, he wrapped him in a towel and went to the nursery. You sneaked your way to the other bathroom where you had other plans for him. You heard the honeyed cooing of Simon's voice, drying your baby and getting him into new clothes when you were passing by.

Simon finally came to the bedroom after putting the baby to sleep,

"What is it?" he stared at you with curious eyes, examining you. You walked towards him reaching for his hand.

"Follow me."

Scowled, trying to accommodate his eyes to the dimmed light of the bathroom, "I'm sorry baby, but I'm so exhauste-"

His eyes went wide when he realised,

Bubble bath waiting for him, relaxing music coming from the speaker, candles and a bottle of red wine by the bathtub. You wrote 'I love you' in the mirror with lipstick??

Then he finally looked back at you, grinning at him with starry eyes.

In that moment he knew he fucked up... Sleep wise. not in any other way. just that. There was no way out now that he saw the little arrangement his wife made.

"C'mon, let me take care of you, I'll make it quick." Now you were closer to him, few inches away from his chin, looking up at him with doe eyes.

And who was he to deny his sweet girl?

You made Simon sit on a stool in the bathtub while you were washing all the dirt and sweat off of him. He was watcing you, only admiring your face intently, although you were completely naked in front of him and your boobs few inches away from his face.

Right until you squished him between your boobs while you were trying to lean and wash his back.

He groaned, making you feel the vibration, the tingles in your stomach.

He was holding your waist tightly enough to leave marks when he finally let you go.

"My little girl wanted to take care of her husband? all this fo' me? sweet girl? Mhm?"

You nodded, smiling, appearing a little shy now.

You took a step back to look at him and giggle with soapy hands until he took a hold on your waist again and pull you closer, a little bit harsher now.

Little gasp leaving your lips, "Oh baby...i think we can take a little break from washing you?" you said, lifting one leg to sit on Simon's lap slowly. Then the other.

"How about that?"

"Mhm mhm." he nodded aggressively.

He made you sit in a hasty way while you were just hovering over his lap. All hungry eyes and hands taking whatever he can.

He didn't know what he was thinking. This was definitely more important than sleep. More important than washing. More important than anything on earth. In this moment, Simon was exactly where he was meant to be.

Burning inside and feeling the hot on your cheeks, he rolled your hair in one hand in a swift move, making your neck arched and vulnerable. All hot and wanting.

Nibbling at your skin. You bit your lip, willingly opening yourself in any way possible for your husband.

All for him to consume.

Your mewling sounds made Simon chuckle softly.

Both your hands sat on his knees behind you, you were panting and not realising all the sounds that were coming from your mouth.

You bit your lip trying to be more quiet when you felt Simon right in front of your entrance. You were getting more desperate by the second.

He was moving painfully slowly at your entrance, up and down, but not penetrating.

"Ohhh! Simon, please!"

"Mmm...do you hear this? You're so wet, baby."

"Ol this for me. Let me enjoy you."

"Simon, please!" you plead, and that earned you a firm swat on your ass. You jumped, panting.

Is he edging me? you thought as more mewling and pathetic sounds left your lips.

Before he gently lowered you on his cock.

You opened your mouth all the way at the feeling, exhaling, still trying to not make any noise but the friction was too good to be true.

Held his muscular shoulder, lowering your hand to his upper arm then his elbow while he was fucking into you torturously slowly.

Hands tight on your hips. Making you feel every inch and vein on his cock.

You decided to speed up the pace as much as you can in his firm grip.

He hissed at the attempt, making eye contact and you were scowling at him, biting your lower lip.

"So close... so close, Simon! Please!"

"I know, baby. Gripping me like a vice. C'mon you can do it, sweet girl."

"Just like that... do it how i taught you."

"come for me" he kissed your cheek and just like that, he made you loudest you've ever been.

As you throw your head back, all your wishes to not make a sound going out the window now you were crying and screaming because of your explosive orgasm.

Simon growled, coming inside of you.

You put your arms around his neck and he put his forehead on yours. Panting heavily. Trying to come down from your highs.

"Fuck! Simon..... what the hell? " then you both started laughing. You've done more dirtying than washing but at least now your husband can finally have his precious sleep his little coma as long as he likes.

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melkintoyou · 1 year ago

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water fall (interluuube)

pairing: jaemin x gf!reader genre: established relationship, wholesome, smut, lil bit of size-kink? (pls close the gyms before I lose my mind) word count: 1.7k summary: coming home to your boyfriend and kittens after a long, tiring day at work. featuring luna, lucy and luke ofc. :) jaemin is a cat dilf.

Dropping your bags to the floor, you locked the door behind you as you stepped into your home. Small foot steps and meows filled the room, as your kittens ran to you.

“Hi babies” You coo’d, immediately getting on your knees and petting them. The kittens rubbed their faces on you and purred. Just like that, the tiredness you had been feeling on your way home, disappeared. The muscles in your body relaxed and you were so happy to be home.

“Where is your dad?” You asked the kittens in baby talk, giving them kisses and pets.

Scooping them all up in your arms, you got up and made your way to the bedroom.

“Hi doll, how was your day?” Jaemin looked up and smiled, putting his laptop away to give you his full attention.

You walked over towards him, dropping the kittens on the bed and sat beside Jaemin. You sighed, falling into his arms.

“I’m tired” you mumbled into his neck. His scent engulfed your senses as you melted further into his frame.

“Baby.. come lay.” He pulled you onto the bed and you got comfortable with your head on his lap.

Jaemin ran his fingers through your hair as you talked about your day. His touch was soft and gentle. He let you rant for what felt like hours. His responses filled with mms and chuckles at the stories. You told him about how loud kids can get during field trips and how much that hurts your head, even though seeing kids happy is what made you get into teaching in the first place.

“Not everyone can be as well behaved as our babies, you know?” You said, pointing to the kittens playing amongst themselves.

“You’re right, we are raising them right babe.” Jaemin dropped his head down and gave you a kiss.

“I think we make good parents, personally” “Isn’t that right kitties?” He wiggled his fingers on the bed, getting the kittens’ attention as they ran to grab his hand and you both giggled.

You twisted your head to look at up at him, unintentionally moving closer to his crotch. “I love you guys, my little family.”

“And I love you” Jaemin felt his cheeks get hot with embarrassment as he tried to pull his t-shirt further down, covering his now slowly growing semi.

Your boyfriend looked away trying to distract himself and his fingers in your hair came to a halt.

“Baby, why’d you stop?” You twisted your head once again, to look up at him and he held your head in place. “It’d be nice if you kept your head still” He said still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Huh?” “Wait- wha?” You burst out laughing as Jaemin tried to hold his laugh in too. He continued to adjust his t-shirt but you caught on to what was going on.

“Really Jaem?! In front of the kids?” You pulled his hand away from his t-shirt to look at his erection and teased him.

Grabbing a cat toy from your night stand, you wiggled it around before throwing out into the living room. Lucy, Luna and Luke ran after it, leaving you both alone in the room.

“Jaem, look at me..” You whispered to your flustered boyfriend, who couldn’t stop giggling coyly.

It didn’t take long for his giggles to stop and his breath to hitch when you slowly snaked your hand over his clothed dick. You palmed him as you looked up at him and he held your face, smiling down at you.

You could feel the atmosphere shift in the room when his dick became fully erect and his breathing got heavy from your touch. Jaemin’s face came down once again, as you got up and met his lips half way, hungrily.

Sitting on your heels, you reached for the hem of his t-shirt and ripped it off him and he returned the favour. Taking your trousers off, you couldn’t wait to get on his lap and straddle him, deepening the kiss. Jaemin’s hands felt big around your waist, as he kneaded your skin. Panting in unison, the heat began to grow between you two and you moaned into his mouth.

Jaemin’s mouth made its way down to your jawline, then behind your ear, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He gave your ear a gentle bite, which made your hips grind down on his erection. You felt your underwear beginning to soak through when it made contact with his hard, heavy length.

He continued to kiss you along your neck, collar bones until he made his way to your breasts and he pulled down your bra to take a nipple in his mouth. Your hands grabbed his head, affectionately caressing it.

Jaemin was a lot bigger than you in size, so seeing him like this, under you with your breast in his mouth, made your head spin. Your right hand travelled down to the side of his neck as you held onto him for support, your nails grazed his skin and he groaned into you.

“Need you..” You whimpered when he brought his fingers began playing with your nipple. He left kisses back up to find your lips once again. His tongue deep inside you mouth, making you ache for him. He began thrusting against your clit to meet your subtle movements on him, both of you swallowing each others moan.

Jaemin bit your bottom lip as he pulled away. “Then take me.”

He leaned back into the headboard, admiring you in your aroused state. He smiled. You loved Jaemin’s smile, it could light up any room he walked into. It was your favourite thing about him. His hands rested on your hips, holding you in place as you took him out of his boxers.

You leaned in to peck his lips again before, you let some spit slowly drop down to his dick and you worked his length. Jaemin maintained the eye contact as his expressions began to switch. His smile faded into his mouth slightly parted and his eyebrows furrowed, at your touch.

He bit his lip, “just like that doll, keep going.” He whispered, rubbing your hips with his big hands.

Sounds of his pre cum, mixed with your spit could be heard and it only made you grow wetter. Jaemin lightly traced his hands along your front, until his thumb found its way to your clit where he began rubbing circles. You started to feel impatient. You needed to feel him. You had to have him right now.

Jaemin moved your ruined panties to the side, as he rubbed your slit with his long finger. He slid his digit inside you which was met with a mmmm sound from you.

“You ready for me already?” He commented on your wetness with a gasp.

“Come here.”

Jaemin grabbed your hands, moving them to his broad, muscly shoulders as he pulled you in closer, connecting your lips once again. You felt your heart beat inside your ears from desire, taking over every atom in your body, when you felt him twitch under you. You sighed into his mouth once again before grabbing the base of his dick, you hovered over him.

Apparent desperation on your face, made Jaemin smile as he pulled your panties to the side once more, staring into your eyes. You both held eye contact as you slowly sunk down on him, making his jaw go slack and his head fall back. You gasped, taking him in, inch by inch, until he filled you up.

You let out a loud whimper as your head also fell into his neck and you started to move. Stroking him painfully slow, unable to stop your thighs from shaking and moans rolling out of you like breathing.

Jaemin slid down further, giving you more control and wrapped his arms around you. Mirroring his actions, you also wrapped your arms around his head as he buried his face into your chest. His tongue found its way to your nipples once again, making you squirm.

“You’re doing so good, doll.. just like that” Jaemin breathed out, digging his nails into your back and scratching all the way down to your waist. He smacked your ass. “Keep going for me…”

It wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm come crashing as you unraveled on top of Jaemin, leaving him in a daze. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you.

“Spit.” He opened his mouth under you, and you did as you were asked. “Pretty girl.” Jaemin lightly tapped your cheek with his hand, as you rode out your climax.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, as the heat inside him continued to grow and he felt lightheaded. His desire was taking over him and he bucked his hips to go deeper inside you with a loud groan. You swore you were seeing stars as he held you in place and started fucking into you with deep, hard thrusts. Your whole body felt like jelly as you let Jaemin take control and you fell into the crook of his neck.

You sucked on his neck, interchanging with moans every now and then, as Jaemin continued to pound into you. He felt his own orgasm reaching when his strokes started becoming faster and your tits bounced in his face. He took one in his mouth to muffle his moans as he began twitching inside you, triggering yet another orgasm for you.

“I.. “ You breathed out. “Gonna cum again” You barely let out a whisper and you both finished at the same time. Fireworks flying around the room would be an understatement as you both panted, heavily and your cries of his name filled the space around you.

As Jaemin’s body went limp, you lifted up your head from his neck to look at his fucked out eyes and he kissed the bottom of your chin. You began to move slowly, as you over stimulated him.

Whimpers and incoherent sentences fell from his mouth making his constrict on you tighter.

“Y/N.. please” He looked up at you like a puppy, begging.

You giggled before stopping and kissed him all over his face. You both sat there, with him inside you like that for a while. Catching your breath and waiting for your heart rates to be stable again.

“Hungry?” Jaemin said after a while.

“SO BAD.” You exclaimed, making Jaemin smile at you.

He smacked your ass hard before gently rubbing and playing with it. “Alright, get up and lemme make you something to eat yeah?”

He placed one last kiss on your lips.

#jaemin #jaemin fic #jaemin nct #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #nct dream #nct #something a little different #hope you guys enjoy??#jaemin brain rot going hard since last night #na jaemin

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jadewritesficshere · 4 months ago

Text

Would you rather

Eddie Munson x Reader

Synopsis: Eddie asks you a question late in the night (<1k words)

Contains: reader is not gendered, hypothetical questions, discussions of sex and oral sex (there is a reference to messy sex, specifically spit, but only one line and not in detail), clowns

18+only

You're laying on your side staring at the wall when his voice pierces the quiet. "Are you awake?" Eddie whispers in the dark. It's almost 2am. The last remnants of weed in your system should have made it easy to fall asleep, but not tonight. You roll onto your back and look over at him," Yeah?"

Eddie shuffles in the bed closer to you," Got a question." Eddie's hand lightly touches your arm, taps it a few times as if to make sure you were there, before retreating. His hand lays next to you, close enough you can feel the warmth. "It's pretty serious." He mumbles.

You can feel your heart beat faster. A pretty serious question could mean anything. Maybe it's about the Upside Down, maybe about your future togeth-

"Would you rather be considered the world's best kisser but be terrible at sex, or be the best at sex but a terrible kisser?"

You pause for a moment.

"That's your question?" You shake your head smiling. The bed shifts as Eddie presses his face into his pillow as if to hide," Nevermind, it's dum-" "It's not dumb! I'm just thinking." Your hand grasps his, squeezing it lightly. "Do i have time to make a pros and cons list?"

"Gut instinct." Eddie pokes at your side and you slap his hand away. "Clarification, does oral count as sex or kissing?" "Hmm," Eddie's brow furrows," I mean it's called oral sex right? So that implies sex."

"Oh then a terrible kisser and good at sex. Good for you and me right? Besides, what's a terrible kiss? A lil messy? You like that-" "Okay shut up!" Eddie slaps you with his pillow causing you to chuckle. Eddie shakes his head before returning his pillow to where it was.

"Now you get to ask one." Eddie's fingers tap out a rhythm against your interlocked hand. You hum, thinking deeply,"Would you love me if I was a worm?" "Thats not a would you rather!" "Okay, would you love me if I was a worm rather then a human."

"That's not- that isn't," Eddie laughs," Okay sure, uh, are you a human sized worm or a regular worm?" "Worm sized." "Do you keep your ass?" You both giggle at the imagery.

"Imagine a worm with just a huge ass," you gasp out," Do worms even have asses?" You both continue to giggle quietly, the bed shaking slightly from your laughter.

"Yeah. I would still love you. I just wake up one day and you've turned into a worm? No, yeah of course I'd still love you. Then I'd go and find the witch that cursed you. I'd galavant through the trees, singing songs of your beauty and our love. Once I find the witch, I'd fall to my knees and beg for them to turn you back." Eddie rambles on, weaving a magical tale of adventure.

"Where am I in all this?" You ask kicking his shin lightly. Eddie traps your leg in his," In my pocket. I'll knit you a little blanket. Wrap it around you. Make you a lil bed and-" You gasp," Like Slimey?" "Like Slimey." Eddie agrees shifting closer to you.

Your eyes have adjusted well to the darkness. You can see his hair going every direction. His lips are slightly chapped but still kissable. His tank top has shifted, showing off a scandalous amount of skin, tattoos, sparse chest hair, and his nipple.

"Would you rather fuck a clown or a mime?" Eddie whispers. "I already fuck a clown i fuck you." You bite your lip to hold back your laughter

Eddie's shocked gasp has you that laughter escaping. "That's it! We're done!" Eddie jokingly pushes away from you as you protest with an "I'm kidding!".

You scoot closer, grasping onto his bicep. You kiss his cheek and continue to murmur apologies. Eddie sighs loudly as he wraps his arms around you. "Calling me a clown," Eddie makes a noise of disgust whilst shaking his head.

Your laughter settles as you gaze into Eddie's eyes. Your noses are almost touching. You can feel the warm exhale of his breath against your face. Eddie kisses you lightly before looking imploringly into your eyes," No, but which would you rather fuck?"

You pause a moment to think. A grin starts to spread across your face," All I can imagine is you go to grab a clown's ass and it just makes one of those squeaky horn noises." Eddie giggles and then mimicks the noise, lightly grabbing your ass.

For whatever reason, it sets you both off laughing. Maybe it's the imagery. Maybe it's the fact that it's 2 am and you both are sleep deprived. Maybe it's the fact you both feel safe and comfortable to be yourself around each other. Maybe it's the leftover weed in your systems.

"Imagine-" Eddie wheezes on a laugh," you go to remove the underwear and as you remove it- wheeze- more just keeps coming. Like those handkerchiefs that never end." The laughter in the room grows louder.

You can feel Eddie's body shake with laughter as he holds you close. Your eyes well up with tears as you imagine Eddie doing a sexy lil dance, removing a pair of underwear from under his skirt, and more keep coming as he said.

A banging on the door causes you both to jump. "Will you two shut up, some of us are trying to sleep!" Steve's grumpy, sleep-addled voice breaks through the silence. "Sorry!" Eddie calls bashful. "Waking me up...got an early shift...need my beauty sleep..fucking fools..." Steve mutters, footsteps sounding as he walks away.

"I think he means fucking clowns." You whisper in Eddie's ear. A fit of giggles fills the air again as you lay in each other's arms.

#Inspired by the hypothetical which would you rather sleep with a clown or a mime that woke me up in the middle of the night #Not quite sure what I was dreaming about but then I burst into laughter thinking about this and Eddie #If you can't be a lil silly with your love then who can you be silly with #Also yes Eddie wears skirts I dont make the rules (I do them are the rules)#What would your answers be and do yall have any good hypothetical would you rathers #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson/you #Eddie Munson/reader #Jade is Talking

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rosemaze-reveries · 3 months ago

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Hello! I found your blog and love the writing

Here’s sit with me while I tell you my favorite idea 💡

✨So the hunters (all if possible) come back to the manor after a long match of smelling sweat and blood upon walking towards their shred room with reader they catch a scent of their lovers perfume- mind going a mile a minute with the idea of their lover being in they arms and just melting from the stress of the day ✨

Thoughts 💭

ANON. anon...... this is the kind of scenario that makes me CRAZY uegh.. when their judgment's clouded by bloodlust but inhaling your scent brings them back to their senses >>> 🤒 let me be your lighthouse home etc etc. sign me UP.

for some blurbs, this turned into a broader "hunter comes straight to you after a rough match" without the perfume bit. kind of misunderstood the assignment but either way, here's this!

🌪️✂️👘🏳️🏴🦌🐍🪞🎻🔩🐟🕯️

🌪️ Ithaqua brings an air of gloom with him into your bedroom. Driven by nothing but a searing want for you, he skips over any pleasantries to tear off his mask and shove you onto the ground. A bed of wind tries to break your fall, but his impatience gets the better of him; he pins you to the floor with such force that he disrupts his own gale from cushioning your way down. Not that you care in the moment. You’ve been waiting to have him in your arms all day. He leaves a scattering of love bites and wet kisses up your neck.

✂️ Jack has one particular tune that he hums after his worst matches. Months of living together have left you all too familiar with it. His song begins from the foot of the staircase and steadily crisps itself to your ears as he draws nearer. Afraid of the state you might find him in, you rush outside to meet him at the top of the banister. He pauses with one foot on the next step. “Curious,” he says, greeting you with a cordial smile. “It’s not often a little mouse stands in my path—not on purpose.” His blouse is soaked a shade of reddish brown, and no amount of easy banter can hide the weariness in his eye. “Well, you’ve saved me the trouble. I was on my way to ravage you next.”

👘 Michiko drags her nails along the walls of the corridor, leaving a dull streak of blood behind. She doesn’t make a sound when she slips inside your room, practised in her delicate step; you don’t even feel the dip in the mattress before she has her shoulders arched over you. Eyeing you tenderly, she rolls a warm thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m home,” she murmurs. “Your sweet scent led the way again.” She realizes she left a smear of red on your skin, and her hand jerks away, startled by the reminder of what she had been doing just minutes ago.

🏳️ Bi’an’s arms wind around the small of your back, drawing you into his chest for a slow, tender embrace. It’s the first thing he does after returning to the manor: falling straight into your arms. As his lips trail down your forehead, peppering soft kisses in their path, you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer. A whisper escapes you about how out of the blue this is, and in response he brings a kiss to the corner of your eye, prompting them to flutter shut. “Let me have you, just for a little while…” Those sweet kisses he’s so good at descend your neck, growing rougher the lower he goes.

🏴 Wujiu’s arms wind around your stomach, pressing his chest flush against your back. He hasn’t uttered a word since returning from his match, aside from a tepid “Nothing worth mentioning” when asked about his day. This sudden affection takes you by surprise. You try to turn your head to face him but he catches your chin, steering your gaze back to the wall. “Don’t look at me.” Whatever is clouding his mind today is better left alone, you realize. You lay your hands on top of his, squeezing them, encouraging him to let your presence blot out everything on his mind. Warm breath fans your collarbone as he nuzzles into your neck, drinking in your scent.

🦌 Bane doesn’t like to discuss his matches. It makes no difference whether they are quick or slow, a win or a lose, they always weigh on him the same way. He sits on the edge of the bed lost in thought. You decide to break the tension first by greeting him with a hug from behind, your chin hooking over his shoulder. Bane isn’t big on physical affection. But after a while he cups a tender hand to your temple, palm taking up the entirety of your face, and presses you gently into him.

🐍 Yidhra might be the hunter most detached from the nightmares of the manor games. They provide nothing but leisure for her, and she’s never felt particularly passionate about them, win or lose. Her followers are the ones who give her the most trouble. When they resist her will, her consciousness splinters apart, some days leaving her too weak to herd them back again. These are typically the days she comes for you. You aren’t sure when she enters your room, but sometimes you catch glimpses of her tail in your peripheral, never to be seen when you’re looking on purpose. Her voice floats in the back of your mind: Mine, mine, mine, mine… There is nothing that binds you to her, yet you’re the only one who never resists her.

🪞 Mary barges into the room clumsily for someone of her poise. She struggles to prop herself against the door, muddy skirt stiff in awkward folds. “My mind is a mess,” she exclaims, voice clear but breathless at the same time. “Where are you? Come settle me.” The second she spots you, she sulks over to toss her arms around your neck, finding a seat in your lap. Clearly she isn’t concerned about observing her usual decorum today. Her dress is heavy and splotched with muck you don’t care to identify, but you don’t mind holding her as the burdens of the day ease off her shoulders.

🎻 Antonio’s fingers instinctively travel to the liquor cart by the window. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but feeling around to find nothing but an empty platter gives him pause. One resigned cluck of his tongue later, you feel tendrils of hair coil around your waist and wrists. They pluck you up from your side of the bed and present you in front of him as if you’re nothing more than a doll. “Not a drop to console me?” he complains, knowing you’ve hidden his bottles again. Then his head tilts slightly, taking in your scent. You can practically see detention’s fiery glow return to his eyes. “No, perhaps you are right—there is something more intoxicating for me here.”

🔩 Percy - “Hm...” He’s scrutinizing you with such intensity that you wonder if something’s on your face. He leans over to take an exaggerated whiff of you, and your heart sinks in offense. You have half a mind to tell him you showered just that morning, so it’s probably not you — besides, he’s the one who’s been tangoing with carcasses all day — but Percy keeps a thoughtful look about him. “You smell full of life,” he muses. “That fragrance you wear, it was popular back in the day. Transports me to the city again.” He would know better than you; you just found this perfume in the trunk of a dusty old room. When he comes closer, clasping either hand around your face, you let him lose himself in the nostalgia. Moments like these are all you have to keep yourselves sane in the manor.

🐟 Grace’s mouth is pulled into a taut frown when she flings open the door. You can see a slight quiver in her lip if you squint. Her harpoon clatters on the ground and she drops onto your bed, braid falling out, face buried in a pillow. There’s little you can do except rub a soothing hand in circles on her back. When she peeks over her arm with a gentle plea in her eyes, you wonder if she’s asking for a deeper massage—but you don’t get the chance to ask before her hand latches onto your forearm, tugging you down to lie with her.

🕯️ Philippe settles for a glass of brandy and his bundle of sketches. He’s resting on the chaise by the foot of the bed, not his work desk where he’d usually be. Rather than drafting new ideas he’s simply thumbing through the old ones, mechanically, breaking from his cycle only for a sip of his glass. It’s like your lover’s been replaced by a puppet. You feel unnerved enough to intervene: stripping him first of his glass, his sketches, then his monocle, you tip him back onto the cushion. You expect him to complain about having to get back to work, but he doesn’t protest. Tonight is for him, you decide. As his dark hair sprawls out beneath him, you straddle his thighs, and his hand reaches up to cup your cheek. “I’m terribly jealous of this magic of yours,” he murmurs, faint lilt in his voice. “It’s always you who brings me back from the stars.”

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trueangel420 · 4 months ago

Text

dealer!kai ୨ৎ, fem reader, (srry) degradation, p in v , rough kai era (omg i cant with this guysforgive me) , wc 1702

You had no business being in Kai's home. You knew better, and Winter had warned you to stay away from her brother. Part of you knew not to go near him—he was a drug dealer, older than you, and surrounded by too many taboos. It made your brain hurt. You didn't want to betray Winter, so you promised. You promised not to get involved with Winter's brother.

And now, here you were sitting stiffly on his living room couch. Winter was gone for a few days, off with her girlfriend, so you thought you'd just get a free joint or two from Kai. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a smoke sesh, and then straight home.

Kai glanced at you as he grabbed what he needed, placing everything on the tray on his lap. “Relax,” he said, his eyes tracing the outline of your figure. “I don't bite.” You wished you could believe that, but you shrugged, trying not to seem so uptight. It was hard with Kai. He had an intensity about him, even when he wasn't doing anything—it drove you crazy. His thick veiny fingers began filling the cones with weed, stuffing it in gently.

You cocked your head, watching him. Lewd thoughts crossed your mind, but you pushed them away. you wish he would bite—you were actually dizzy at the thought imagine him, latching his mouth on you like it was his last meal? like…you shook your head a bit straightening up in the seat trying to shift further away from him.

This was Winter's brother, and you promised. Your eyes traced the shape of his nose as he continued, licking the wrapping paper and folding it together. Was he doing that on purpose? He had to be. “You're staring,” he pointed out, breaking your trance. You quickly avoided his eye contact—had he been watching you the whole time?

“Sorry,” you murmured shyly. God, this was pitiful. You could feel your underwear dampening, and he hadn't done anything except make you a pre-roll. Yet here you were, practically drooling over him in your mind.

“Here,” he said, lighting it for you. He brought it to his own lips first, taking a long, slow drag from the joint. The smoke swirled around him. “You don't talk much, do you?” he asked, passing the joint to you. His voice was low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine. You struggled to control yourself, feeling like a rabid dog every time you stared at him too long. Clearing your throat, you brought the joint to your lips and inhaled. “I do, it's just... I don't know, I'm uptight right now.”

He nodded, his intense gaze never leaving yours. “I can tell,” he said, his voice low. His presence was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as if he was reading your every thought. He moved closer, turning his body facing you. “Let me guess,” he said, his eyes narrowing as if peering into your soul. Oh no, you didn't like where this was going. You just wanted to smoke, go home, and maybe daydream about him, not have him unravel your thoughts right here.

“Be honest with me”

You looked at him for a moment, bringing the joint to your lips again. A calm, fuzzy feeling was starting to kick in, relaxing your tense muscles. “About what? I have nothing to hide…” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, but it faltered. You'd already said too much. He noted the way you smoked nervously, the way you coughed out the words quickly, he was savoring it like a predator savoring the fear of its prey.

“I know Winter told you to stay away from me. She told me the same thing,” he said casually, moving closer as he spoke. “And to be honest, I don't listen to Winter,” he added, now putting his arm behind your shoulders.

“You... you don't?” Your eyes were wide as he smiled at you.

“I don't, baby,” he replied, grabbing the joint back and bringing it to his lips, inhaling slowly. A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you gawk at him, looking like a deer in headlights.

“So what does that mean?” you whispered.

He exhaled the smoke in your face, his eyes never leaving yours. “It means I want you, and I'm gonna ask if you want me too. It's a yes or no question, but if you say yes, you might like what I've been thinking about doing all night.”

You blinked slowly, processing his words. Did he mean what you thought he did? He couldn't have.

“Yes,” that simple word made him smile wider.. He was prepared for this; he put out the joint between his lips on the ashtray as he shifted up off of the couch, looking down at your wide-eyed appearance. “Shorts off,” he demanded, unbuckling his belt, waiting for you to follow his demand. Of course, you obliged, maybe faster than he expected, but you managed to shuffle them off and stand in front of him. “I always thought you were desperate for me. Guess I was right?” He cooed, and you felt your cheeks burn as he finally tugged his belt off. “was i? Answer me,” you nodded, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. God, this was embarrassing.

“Floor, ass up, face down,” he demanded, pulling you into his chest as he slid off his sweats. “do it”

The floor was cold and hard; you could feel his fingers running down the slit of your underwear—he was savoring every moment of this. “Soaked,” he mumbled, his fingers swiping back and forth on your clothed clit. “You’ve been like this for a while, huh?” You didn’t reply; your head was fuzzy and your body was aching. “Slut,” he whispered, taking his cock out of his boxers, pressing his pink tip against you, and rubbing it up and down your sticky folds.

You were so brain dead by now; you’d let him do anything he wanted, and he planned on it. He could tell by that glazed-over look in your eyes that he could get away with as much as he wanted. “Pull them to the side for me,” he said, tugging on your underwear. You nodded frantically, pulling it to the side as your body sank further onto the floor, your face flushing and your skin tingling as he pressed his cock between the folds again, this time the warmth of it making you arch back further for him. Kai thought you never looked more beautiful; he’d never seen you so relaxed and so thoughtless. He wasn’t even in you, and you couldn’t help but whine, but he didn’t have that much restraint; he didn’t need to.

His hands snaked around your body, feeling you up, squeezing you, and playing around with your tits for a moment. He could hear you panting; the position was almost humiliating; you were on the ground, back arched with his chest pressed against you. He was so close now, his breath hitting your ear as he grunted out a sentence. “I’m not going to be gentle.”

“Wha-” You tried to get out, but he interrupted you, plunging his cock into you and not letting you adjust to his size. You practically hissed at the size of him, the feeling of him forcing your lower stomach to poke out slightly, his bulge, and he knew it; he knew how well endowed he was—that’s why he chose this position so you wouldn’t know how much you had to take, so you wouldn’t be scared. Your brain was foggy; he kept one hand gripping the fat of your ass as he pounded into you and the other tightly holding a fist full of your hair, pulling you towards him. His breaths were heavy, and he couldn’t help but stare down at you—at your body. Some days he would pray to have you like this, all disheveled—sweaty—loud. When he figured out you wanted the same, all restraint was gone.

Your eyes were closed tightly; you were too foggy, too fuzzy, and all he could do was bury himself inside of you roughly. His eyes were focused; he’d let out grunts and strangled moans. He didn’t need you to know the effect or the desperation he held for you.

“So,” He thrust harder into you, his breath deep and low. “Messy.” he continued, his bicep now resting under your neck. He had you in a headlock, still moving against you. You shuddered at the fact that you were actually letting him do anything to you; you forgot all about your promise. He was slamming into you, and you were squealing, the sensation was all too much, you started to squirm. He tightened his arm around your neck.

The sounds of your pussy squeezing around him filled the living room. “You’ll have a limp,” he groaned into your ear, speeding up, shutting his eyes momentarily—he was so close. You can only whimper at his words, the lack of oxygen making you clench around him. “You like that? the idea of limping because of me?” He tightened his bicep around your neck, silencing you completely, and your face flushed a deep shade of red. “Slut.” You felt your eyes rolling back as he spoke, still grinding deep inside you. He watched as you neared fainting, then released you, pressing your face against the cold floor. Gasping for breath, you struggled to steady yourself.

“C’mon, breathe, breathe baby,” he teased, laughing at you as he maintained his pace. He grabbed your hips, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Did I make you stupid? You look so fucked out right now,” he said, his grip tightening. you clench around him more, Letting out a pant as your body tensed, you found yourself suddenly finishing around him. The shock was so intense you couldn't even choke out a response, feeling a tingling sensation spread through your brain and stomach. “Look at my slut—fuck” his stomach tightened as he pumped into you spilling his cum inside of you letting your body collapse weakly, he stayed inside you plugging you up in hopes—you’d get pregnant.

#when ur plug a little weird but it’s okay #evan peters #kai anderson #ahs cult #kai anderson smut #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson imagine #tate langdon #james patrick march #dealer!kai #evan peters smut #smut #austin sommers #kit walker #jimmy darling #i had a dream about it last night

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haechansunshineboy · 3 months ago

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*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

A/N: I can’t believe I am writing this in a movie theater to the sweet sweet sounds of Sean Paul and Keyshia Cole’s When you gonna give it up to me on loop.

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

“Flower Day?” Mark asked. “I don’t really own any shirts for it though.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mark Lee how are you even class president?” Next week was scheduled to be homecoming week, meaning each day was a specific dress up day. You got pretty into school dress up days, so seeing your friend/senior class president being so carefree about it was just-

“Did you forget you planned these things out? Like what do you even do at these meetings?” You nag at him, making him shrug back.

“I just sign my name on everything- hey HEY! I’m kidding-” he giggles, bracing himself as you prepare to swat at him.

“You know what, what are you doing for Flower Day? I’ll just match with you.” He suggests, in a now panicked tone, reaching for your hands to block you again.

You raise your eyebrow, a thought forming in your head.

“Yeah?” A smile growing on your face.

“Yeah…? Now I’m a little scared…”

“Ok at least this isn’t as bad as I thought.” Mark mutters as you dig around your makeup stuff for what you’re looking for.

You called Mark the morning of to swing by your place so you could do some pretty makeup on him. You’d been practicing how to draw flowers for a while and now you had someone to practice on (other than yourself). To be honest, you were pretty excited that Mark was letting you do this for him.

“Do you have any preference to colors?” You ask, pulling out the different color liners to show him.

“Honestly no? Do what you gotta do.” Mark giggles as he shuts his eyes tightly. You smile at his cute scrunched up face as you flick his shoulder, making his eyes open back up.

“You have to relax your face, dummy. I can’t work on you with your face all tense like this.” You tell him. He nods back at your order, trying his best to give you a neutral face so you could begin your work.

Seeing Mark’s face up close like this, you can’t help but take in his rather handsome features. His pretty lashes, his sharp jawline, the slope of his nose. Your eyes trail down to his cupids bow and his lips.

You take a deep breath, intending to not think about pressing your lips against your friend’s lips. You wonder how soft they’d feel. You shake your head at that last thought.

Trying to come back to the task at hand, you drag the brush along Mark’s cheekbone, beginning with detailing the petals, adding small spots here and there.

As you attempt to draw more flora, you use the side of your index finger to gently lift Mark’s chin. His eyes flutter open at the movement, his lips part slightly. He hadn’t realized how close your face was to him until this moment, when you were just a short breath away of distance.

His head also started swirling with thoughts. Thoughts about what it would be like to press his lips against yours. What would your lipstick taste like? Would you make cute noises when your lips touched?

“All good?” You ask, now noticing the distance between you two as well. You swallow hard when you see Mark glance at your lips.

“Yeah, you’re really gentle, I barely felt you putting anything on my face.” He chuckles, trying to push down his previous thoughts. “Can I see what you’ve done so far?”

You nod, stepping away to let Mark lean over your vanity table to look at the small flowers adorning his cheeks like freckles. He could also see his cheeks red in the reflection of the mirror, not due to blush, but due to his previous thoughts about you.

*:・ﾟ✧. *:・ﾟ✧.

#nct #nct dream #nct x reader #crush au #writing #mark lee #mark lee x reader #this night’s musings are about an older crush who let me do her makeup once #she’s tomboyish so I was surprised she let me #it came out well tho

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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 5 months ago

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Show don't tell

Pairing: Gamigin × Afab!Mc × Lucifer

Lucifer decides to take a more active approach in teaching Gamigin about intercourse.

Afab!reader but they only use they/them pronouns.

It's been a month since Lucifer won the Phenomenon photo contest, but Gamigin has been thinking about what he saw since the day it happened. He would stay in the comunal shower staring at his erection and pondering wether or not he should masturbate to the image of his king pressed on Solomon's child. The angered screams of his brothers wanting to use the bathroom would be the only thing that would snap him from his confused trance.

Lucifer, keen as ever, knew Gamigin's head was in other places not his work or any particular conversation they were having. He had a few ideas as to what might be clouding the dragon's thoughts, but when he found him sneaking into Marbas' room to try and grab some Abaddon magazines, he knew what he was dealing with.

"Bring Adam's child here." Lucifer ordered to Gamigin who instantly blushed and ran to the gates. The dragon was so excited to see them again, maybe his king will mate again with the human and he'll be allowed to watch once more. All the scenarios that used to be reserved for his dreams were now flouding his mind as he made his way to the gate.

You were sitting peacefully in your room in Gehenna, doomscrolling on some random social media, your mind elsewhere. A familiar glowing light illuminated the other side of the door before Gamigin burst into it with an excited smile. "Get in loser, we're going to Paradise Lost!" His loud voice accompanied by the even louder jiggling bells of his staff filled the previously dead room. "That was an actually good use of a pop culture reference."

"Thanks, I practiced." And with that Gamigin grabbed your arm and brought you to the calm botanical gardens in Paradise Lost. "We have to go to Lucifer's private office which is... on the other side of the country. Sorry, since Bathin left we can only teleport patients here."

The walk was uneventful, you and Gamigin starting and stopping conversation on a whim. Before long you reach Lucifer private office. A huge room inside the hospital with two queen sized hospital beds. Lucifer was sipping some tea while discussing with Buer. When Gamigin opened the door, Buer bowed and left without a word. It was strange how well coordenated the people of Paradise Lost were, especially when it was about their beloved king.

"[Strip]" Lucifer commanded to no one in particular, but you could tell it was ment for you. You took off your clothes and Lucifer picked you up and set you on the bed with your legs spread out. Your pussy was on full display for the two demons in the room. The king walked to his desk and took some medical gloves from one of the drawers. Lucifer turned to Gamigin and signed for him to get closer.

"This is the outer labia" Lucifer messaged the flesh before using two fingers to spread your lips. "This is the inner labia. They're the primary reasons why I got a real exemple for this leason on the body. In all the text books you'll see the same pictogram, one that rarely matches anything actually fleshy." Gamigin nodded, taking mental notes of your vagina.

"Lucifer, did you really call me ov-" "[Silence]" You couldn't even finish your sarcastic remark before you lost your voice to Lucifer's divine power.

"Under the clitoris hood you can find the clitoris or clit as it is more commonly known. Some people can ejeculate only by stimulation to this bundle of nerves, and, fortunatly, this one is part of this category. Pay close attention to the vagina, see how it convulses when I rub the clitoris." Lucifer begins to demonstrate to the gawking eyes of the young dragon. You wanted to moan but your voice had other plans, only letting out small gasps and whimpers.

Lucifer picked up a bit of your wetness on his gloved finger and brought it to Gamigin's mouth. "Lick." He didn't need to use one of his usual orders, he knew Gamigin would obey him blindly even without magic. The long tongue of the dragon greedily lapped up all your juices from the lead doctor's hand.

"Good. Now grab a set of gloves and come here." Gamigin sprinted and swiftly put on the plastic. The older demon was rubbing slow circles around your clit, enough to keep you excited but not enough to cum. When Gamigin arrived, Lucifer pointed to your opening. "Slowly insert one finger inside. They have a lot of experience, but the muscles around return to a tight state after a while. We don't want to hurt the patient, so be careful with the first finger."

Red in the face, yet still curious as ever, Gamigin slowly wiggled a finger inside your hole. A chocked moan escaped your lips as you spread your legs widder, your body already trained to recieve pleasure. The foreign feeling of the gloves rubbing against your walls and the circling of your clit was making your head spin. Slowly, Gamigin started to thrust his finger inside you at the guidance of Lucifer.

You can feel your orgasm approaching, but before you could release, Lucifer and Gamigin moved away from you. You saw the dragon sucking the finger he used to pleasure you while he looked up at the fallen angel. They were talking about something, but you didn't care what it was, you just wanted to cum.

You try to move but can't. Damn it, Lucifer must have thought in advanced about your little escape attempt and ordered your body to stay. When you look back in front of you, you notice that only Gamigin was there. Before you could question where Lucifer was, you felt him grab your body and setting you on his lap. He was naked, his cockhead touching above your belly button.

"As you can observe, most demons and angels are quite bigger than humans could normally handle. Yet, it can be observed that this particular human can take more than usual." Lucifer slowly picked you up so your hole was hovering over his penis and he began to decend your body on his.

You claw at the bed sheets and try desprately to at least moan. Gamigin was staring wide eyed at the copulation of the two of you, sight that only made you more emberassed than you already were. Lucifer bottomed out inside you after the most agonising 30 seconds of your life. You felt so full and stiff, like a sock puppet being worn by its master. One of his hands was wrapped around your throat and the other was set on your chest to try and prevent you from laying on the bed for support. He needed Gamigin to see it, that's why you were here in the first place.

"Do you see the bulge? That's how deep I went inside of them. Come touch it." Gamigin took a step closer and nervously felt the slight bulge from within. His eyes shifted rapidly from the bulge to Lucifer to you as if he was trying to imprint this moment in his memory. The dragon's three horns were already getting damp as he tried to massage lower before Lucifer glared at him to back off.

"It's not your turn to touch them yet. You still lack experience. Now, come closer." Lucifer started to thrust. Nothing too powerful, but enough to make you orgasm every time his dick was fully in. The hand that was on your chest moved to your hair as Lucifer began to move your head towards one of Gamigin's horns.

"[Suck]" He ordered and you obeyed, too weak from overstimulation to even think about going against the first light. You took one of the horns between your lips and started to suckle on it. The sweet devil energy washing down your mute throat.

Lucifer was quiet and you were forbidden from making a sound, but Gamigin was making up for the silence. His loud moans, whimpers and whines filled the room, so loud that everyone in the country must know what was going on. The dragon started to futely thrust against the air, his knees weak as his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the bed.

The mind-numbing pleasure Lucifer was delivering straight to your very core was starting to get overwhelming when the former angel began to pick up the pace of his thrusts. A hot stream of tears imitating the leaking of your slobbering cunt began to fall from your eyes. When Lucifer noticed you began to cry he manhandled you off him and Gamigin and he layed you directly on the table.

"They're prepared enough now. Shed yourself of your garments and try to mate with the human yourself."

Gamigin noded and fumbled with his pants, quickly taking off his pants and boxers in one fell swoop. He got on top of you, his hands on either side of your sholders and his knees just under yours. He set there confused as he looked up at Lucifer who moved closer to Gamigin to help him every step of the way.

"Good... now move in, slowly, dear, slowly." He cooed to Gamigin. Even though you were the overstimulated one, Gamigin acted like teen in heat. He was much smaller than Lucifer, but he was way less experienced. His whimpers were beautifully pathetic as he entered your loose pussy. Lucifer was petting his head the whole way through.

"Good boy. How does it feel?" Lucifer voice was so sweet and friendly, it almost sounded like he was another person.

Between sniffles and whines, Gamigin managed to speak up with a hoarse voice "B-better than I could even i-imagine. Th-thank you, L-Lucifer."

Lucifer nodded in acknowledgement and grabbed Gamigin's waist, one hand on his lower stomach and the other on his tail bown. He started to thrust Gamigin inside your puffy pussy. It didn't take long before the dragon got used to the rythm set by his king and he got lost in the feeling of your wet cavarns.

Lucifer took a step back and watched the two of you have a go at it. The scene was lewd, sure, but to Lucifer it was the sweet deflowerment of his little brother. He was temped to take a picture to add to his album.

The rythm set only a few minutes ago was getting sloppier and faster as he was trying to reach his first orgasm inside someone. Gamigin hugged your limp body as he rutted inside, his head pressed to the matress. He practicly screamed as he came inside you. He colapsed on your body as he tried to even out his breaths.

With his strong arms, Lucifer picked you two up and walked to the other bed and layed you there. His touch was the gentlest you've ever recieved from the former angel, but Gamigin seemed used to the affection. Gamigin opened his mouth to speak but Lucifer covered it. "Sleep you two. You need rest after such an intense session."

You didn't need to be told twice, though calling it sleep would be an understatement. You both practicly collapsed into your own personal dream world, silently snoozing in Lucifer's office.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb lucifer #whb gamigin #whb smut #whb x reader #based on a dream I had last night

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whore-ibly-hot · 2 years ago

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Midsummer nights madness.

Yandere!Fae x Gn!eader (Inspired heavily by fairies from Midsummer Nighs Dream).

Minors dni

Warnings: Suggestive content; manipulation; magic; mythical beings; intoxication; drugging?; coercion; and one very clingy boy.

A/N: Was in a Shakespeare mood and fell in love with Puck, also known as Robin Goodfellow; from Midsummer Nights Dream. Thus, I tried this fic out. Please enjoy!

🍀🧚‍♂️🍀🧚‍♂️🍀🧚‍♂️🍀🧚‍♂️🍀🧚‍♂️🍀🧚‍♂️🍀

Brown, fallen leaves crunched under foot, the sun setting slowly just beyond the forest's dense canopy. Skipping down the muddied, beaten path is you, a simple peasant on a delivery run for the local apothecary. Your mother, a hermit widow and herbalist, was known in the county for her incredibly potent herbs, and her garden was unmatched. Despite how the people revered her work, she was never a social woman. Lately, she had become rather ill, and while she was at home curing herself, her deliveries still had to be made. Though it caused her great grief, though you were unsure why, she gave into your pleading to let you make the delivery.

"But mother, I'm perfectly capable of a small trip through the woods!" You had exclaimed. She only shook her head weakly, waving you away with her hand as she moved to grab the wicker basket of roots and plants. However, her ill state only becomes more evident when she suddenly collapses on the dirt floor of the hut. "Mother!" You cried, helping her trembling form stand. Walking her to her bed, she sits down, and sighs. "Mother, you're in no condition to deliver the herbs, please, allow me to go in your place!" You begged had begged. Begrudgingly, she had allowed you to take the ingredients, but not before slipping a small, worn scroll into your palm. "Remember the rules, my dear. The woods are not safe for anyone, much less someone alone, at the mercy of the night...". She had warned you off the usual dangers, wolves, bears, and thieves, but these simple natural occurrences did not seem to be what worried her most. The scrolls instructions were simple, and went as follows.

'Rule one, to prevent most danger, continue the path and speak to no stranger.

Rule two, if talking is their aim, always remember to not give your name.

Rule three, even if kindness they exude, from a stranger, never takes food.

Finally, rule four, if danger is discerned, touch them with iron, allow them to burn...'

While you must admit you weren't entirely sure about the Iron part, the other rules made sense. It was always best to avoid conversing with strangers in the woods. After having gotten a string of leather from your mother, one which she hung a ring of iron on, you had set off, leading to where you were in the woods now.

You sigh, taking in the fresh air of the forest around you. Being stuck at the cottage all day, allowed to walk no further than the garden, you didn't get too many opportunities to take in the beauty of nature. While initially you had been anxious about the woods, due to mothers warnings, they seemed rather peaceful. The sounds of a nearby stream paired with the gentle breeze make for a relaxing walk. As you hear a twig snap, you think nothing of it, until you look down, noticing that there is no twig under your woven sandal. Something else must have made that noise. You freeze, a feeling of ice in your veins spreading slowly as you look around, trying to discern the source of the noise. After a few seconds, something snaps again. You gasp, now sure that something is nearby. Clutching the basket to your chest, you begin to back away, and as your foot steps land just barely off the path, you hear scurrying. Convinced something is approaching, in a moment of panic you bolt.

Your light footsteps ring out, breathing growing heavy as you sprint away from the path, sandals rubbing harshly on your feet causing them to grow sore. The sound of the approaching beast grows quieter, but you continue to run. You whip your head back for just a moment, to see if you can catch a glimpse of whatever creature is stalking you, when you are suddenly thrown forward. You fall with a cry, slamming into the soft dirt of the forest floor, the contents of your basket scattering as they hit the ground with you. Still panicking, you ignore the pain and sit up quickly, your eyes following your now injured leg to what caused you to trip. Furrowing your brows, as you look closer, you realize you've tripped on some sort of mushroom. A small patch of blue and purple fungi rests where your foot was, stretching around you, as if forming a sort of ring. You hold your breath for a moment, straining as you try and hear any noise from the direction you came. You sigh when you hear nothing, assuming the wild animal has given up the chase in favor of another prey. Now that you feel slightly more secure, you wiggle your ankle a little, trying to work off any pain. Once you're convinced you'll be okay, you take a moment to steady your breathing. Looking to your left, you see the goods you were to give to the apothecary scattered amongst dirt and leaves, but your basket appears to be missing. You gasp, looking to your left and right for the basket, when suddenly a hand appears from behind you, offering you your basket from over your shoulder. You let out a terrified screech, whipping around and scrambling away from the mysterious figure, hands brushing against the edge of the mushroom ring.

As you tremble, your eyes focus on the figure before you. It is not a roguish thief, nor a golden-eyed beast, but rather a bare-chested, wild-eyed young man. He is squatted down on a stump in the center of the mushroom ring, head tilted with a mischievous smile as he peers down at your shaking form. Small horns emerge just past his head of wild, curly hair. Though shirtless, jewelry of animal bones and twigs adorns his neck and shoulders, with splotches of smeared ink and paint spread across his arms and pecs. He would be oddly alluring, if not for the paralyzing shock of his sudden appearance.

"W-who are you?" You exclaim, curling into yourself and staring up at him with a frightened gaze. The odd boy laughs, an impish sound, before leaning forward on his toes, allowing him to peer down at you. "Hmm, I don't know. You first!" He says, grinning as he looks at your face change from fear to confusion, your posture relaxing a little. "Me first...?" You repeat, before you gasp. Mothers scroll, you've already broken one of the rules, 'do not speak to strangers.' You mustn't break another by revealing your name. " I can't say. Besides, I asked you first." You speak out in a moment of boldness, and though his face falls for a moment, taken aback, he smiles once more. "Very well, mortal. They call me Puck, spirit of the northern wood, knave and jester-servant his majesty, the fairy king of the Seelie Court." You tilt your head, rather shocked at his introduction. "A spirit?" He nods. "A fae, in a more specific sense, though I doubt you mortals have an easy time discerning the difference." He sighs, hopping lightly off the oaken stump and shuffling closer to you. "A fae, what is that?"

He lets out a choked gasp at your questions, as if personally slighted. "What is a fae? Have you not heard the legends and tales of my peoples exploits from the drunks and gossipers of your townships, little mortal. We..." He pauses to stand and spread his arms wide, twirling once with a roguish glee. "We are the nurturers of nature, acolytes of the autumn and worshipers of the winter. You owe your fair green fields, evening rains and bountiful harvests to use, you know." He spins back around to face you, leaning down to meet your gaze. "I wonder how you've gone so long, living in neither awe nor fear of my kind." He ponders. You look away, upset about being reminded of your naivety of the outside world. You shrug. "I live with my mother, in no specific town. We are rather isolated, so we don't get the newest information." You explain, and Puck nods, a mischievous glint in his eye. You can't look past his whimsical aura to see the plan forming in his brain. "Aw..." He puffs out his lips, pouting. "Poor mortal, your homely duties allow you no knowledge of the world us fae give you? And no time for jest and entertainment? What a sad life." You sigh, and shake your head. "I'm quite fine with my life, I'll have you know. A-and I get out plenty, I'm delivering good for my mother right now!" You snap, feeling rather patronized by the spirit. He laughs, flopping his head to the side and sticking out his tongue. "You're lying, I can tell. We fae are very keen when sensing deception." "I'm not lying!" Puck only holds his hands up, as if giving you permission to remain in denial.

"Besides," You grab your mother's basket from his hands, ignoring his protests. You quickly begin to place the herbs and plants back into it, very concerned with both making your delivery and getting away from Puck. He seems nice, but... mother had warned you of strangers. As your hands rapidly sift through leaves and dirt, brushing off the produce, you stand back up. You move backwards, not turning your back on the spirit boy. "It's been... interesting to make your acquaintance, but I really must be going if I'm going to make my delivery and return home by nightfall." You attempt to bid Puck farewell and step back over the line of the mushroom ring, but as you do, Puck's eyes widen in momentary surprise. Jolting forward, the wild boy takes you quickly into his arms and leans over you, almost knocking you backwards with the sudden imbalance of your two forms now meshed together.

Despite his thin and lanky stature, his arms and body are surprisingly strong. You can feel his toned muscles press against you in this moment, as his surprise turns back to his grin. "Wait now, sweet mortal friend... there's no need to flee from Puck." He can clearly sense your nervousness, though you can't tell if he truly wishes to ease your fear or enjoys the power he holds over you. "Let me make you an offer-" "I should really-" "No, no, no... just give a spirit a chance, hear my offer before you decline me." He presses himself a little closer to you, though not in a way that makes you feel preyed on, persay. If any other man were to try and hold you to him like this, you would feel sick to your stomach, sure of the man impure and perverse intentions. With Puck though, even though you are frightened by his magical and impish nature, he touch feels almost... nice. He holds you to him, but not tight enough to be threatening, and his lanky limbs hanging from you makes the embrace playful. You open your mouth to speak, but close it, curiosity eating through your nerves. He leans in closely, shaking his head slightly and whispering his offer. "I'll take you to where your delivery is, the-" He pauses. "Apothecary." You finish. "Apothecary, and in turn, you will accompany me for a drink." He presses his forehead to yours playfully, invading your personal space for yet another time as he stares intently at you.

"Oh, no, no, I can't accompany you anywhere!" You take his moment of softness as he waits for a response as a chance to pull yourself from his grasp. To your surprise, he doesn't grin more or even pout at your refusal. Rather, his brows furrow and his smile fades. He seems genuinely disappointed, possibly even hurt. "And for what reason? Surely not for your delivery, as I promised to take you there quicker than any mortals legs could carry them." He inquires. You shake your head. "While I appreciate it, I'm not supposed to speak to strangers, much more accept things from them! My mother says-" He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, your mortal mother told you. If I recall, you told Puck that you and your mother know nothing of spirits and fae, so how can you truly know she speaks an accurate portrayal of my people?" He sighs. "I often find the mortals fear us more than they need, just think of me, for example. Has this shadow done anything to offend your nature or kind thus far?" You pause, but then shake your head. "And I'm sure you've broken some of her rules..." You gasp, looking up at him with a bit of a glare, causing him to laugh as he falls back onto the stump. "How did you know about the rules she gave me?" You ask. "I had your little basket with more for quite some time, gave me plenty of time to read." He says. From his hair, he pulls out the worn scroll, and rolls it open, turning to shield it from you when you lunge to get it. "Rule 1, hmm. Well, you've spoken to me, so consider that rule broken." He tears off the top of the scroll, making you groan in frustration. "Rule 2, you've told me no name, so consider that one intact." He moves down to the third rule. "Rule 3, says to accept no food from me, but... it says nothing about a drink...?" He pauses, looking at you. "I- fine, I will accompany you, but I must be home by midnight!" He hops up, and in a rush of glee he throws you up into the air, spinning you in his arms. When he places you back down, still embracing you, it takes you a moment to catch your breath. "You have my word, little mortal, and a faes promise is a powerful thing."

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Several hours later, (though you yourself have lost track of time), you find yourself with Puck, sitting on a smooth rock just beside a waterfall, which leads into a stream. Various flowers of all shapes and colors bloom around you, with one of them producing the sweet nectar which Puck has so graciously been serving the two of you. Despite your initial fear, this evening has been rather enjoyable. Puck tells you much of his life and his people. You learn his works directly under the king, serving as a companion and jester. He regales you with tales of his exploits, from curdling the milk of a farmer mid-drink to scaring a nun into believing she was haunted, nearly driving her mad. He tells you of the king and queen's affairs, the queen's bitterness and the king's anger. You smile, feeling the nectar relaxing you with every sip as you grow sleepy, time becoming of no importance. "More nectar, my mortal friend?" He asks, extending a cup of petals to you. You shake your head, waving him off weakly. "No, I couldn't... truly." He nods and places the vase away.

"Now, what of your home? Tell me what is it a lonely mortal like you does all day?" He inquires, leaning back as he stares at you. "Mmh, I'd tell you if I could think right now, but in all honesty I think this drink is affecting me... perhaps mortals like me are more weak to it?" You ask. Puck chuckles, he himself is calmed by the drink, when he notices your flushed face. Your eyes are dropping, the majority of your body weight leans against the rocks behind you. He often enjoys the drunken antics of his fellow fae, and though he knows mortals to be quite quicker to become inebriated with fae drink, he hadn't expected you to succumb so quickly. In truth, he had only given you a small amount compared to himself, but then he supposed you must not even drink much human ale. "Puck?" You mumble, looking at him through your hooded lids. He is shaken from his thoughts, and nods for you to continue. He tries to focus, but finds your once shy form now relaxed and happy quite charming. "S' getting late, I think... could you take me home?" You ask, slurring your words a little. In truth, he had planned to get the attractive little mortal in a drunken fever with fae ale, and in your combined lustful state enjoy a night of pleasure, before leaving you to find your way back to your human hovel. However, as he argued with you in that mushroom ring, and invited you out, he found himself growing more and more attached, your naive mannerisms and innocence providing a contrast to his wild and knavish behaviors. Now, as you ask for him to return you to your home, he feels the same aching inside him he first felt when you had pulled away from him. He bites his lip, one of his hands wringing and tugging at his leafen skirt, his eyes full of conflict. After a few moments, he swallows, and begrudgingly nods, before attempting to put on his usual grin and try to see unbothered.

"Very well, my mortal friend. Come into my embrace and I shall lead you through these woods to your little mortal abode." He only opens his arms a little, before grunting as you flop into his arms, any resistance sober you would have had completely voided by your drunken stupor and need for warmth. It was rather cold in these woods at night. Puck is taken aback, usually he was the on invading space and hanging uncomfortably off those around him, often being scolded for his perverted clingyness, even among the rather wild and lustful fae. He halts his breath for a moment, before a genuine smiles spreads across his face, though he tries to conceal it behind his smug grin. As his cheeks warm up, he shakes his hair, hoping to cover some of it with the brunette locks. His arms come to sneak under your legs, picking your tired form up and beginning his brisk pace towards your home, which you had described earlier. He knew of it, (as he was sure he'd stolen some herbs from there for some not-so-innocent pranks.)

Upon arriving to your home, he moved silently through the front door, entering your room and gently placing you against your sheets. He places one of the thinner covers over you, pausing to admire your form. Just then, the door behind him opens. Your mother peers in, a look of worry fading as she sees you tucked into your bed, having safely returned from your errand. Though knowing he can't be seen by her, Puck remains still. Once your mother leaves, shutting the door softly behind her, he waits until her footsteps disappear before turning back to you. You groan, and shuffle further under the covers, before looking up at him. "Puck... how come I can see you but mother can't?" He doesn't answer for a moment, as if unsure whether or not to tell you of his trick to scare you into that faery ring with the sounds of a beast, making himself visible to you as your crossed the rings magical threshold. In the end, he decides not to. "Perhaps you're just special?" He suggests with a smile, making you blush. As he looks at you, he clenches his hands, resisting the urge to take you in his arms once more and take you back to the king with him. 'Not yet, not now.' he tells himself. He turns to leave, but your soft voice stops him once more. "Puck?" He nods, turning to face you. "Will you come back and see me?" He feels his heart swell at your request, and he nods. "Of course, you have this fae's word." He flourishes with a bow. You giggle. "And a fae's promise is a powerful thing, right?" You repeat what he had said earlier.

He nods, and with a small gust of wind, disappears behind the blowing of a curtain.

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