#now time to retreat back to my hole

[secret-third-thing]

OKAY what I WANTED to say before I experienced the weirdest sunday of my life is that I finally have a writing mentor!!!!! who is a LITERARY AGENT!?!?!!! I am FREAKING OUT.

I am very flattered that she offered to work with me, and I'm hoping that this is the universe giving me a sign that it's TIME. She read some of my original writing and my longer fanfic and was like... you've got something good going on in that brain of yours.

Obviously, I will have things to work on, but I'm happy to know that my writing isn't actually total garbage. Fingers crossed for 2024. Yall this is wild.

[pinkhelados]

miguel x wife!reader ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

includes: fem!reader, latina!reader, miggle being a simp, p in v sex, praise kink, very slight dacryphilia, not edited! Criticism is welcome!

Miguel swore to you that he’s never make you cry. “Te lo juro, mi alma. Te hare la mujer más feliz del universo. No sentirás tristeza cuando estes en mis brazos.” He remembered saying and he meant it, what kind of a man would make a woman as beautiful as you cry? Miguel was a man of his word, after all.

Well, until now.

Miguel found himself balls deep in your pussy with his talons digging into the fat of your hips. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he just couldn’t help himself when your weeping cunt tightened around his girthy cock like a vice. “Fuck,” He groaned. “Eres- eres tan bonita,” Miguel said with each thrust. His chocolate rown hues stared lovingly into your pretty eyes. Those same pretty eyes that had fat tears of pleasure rolling down your skin as he pushed his dick further into your creamy pussy. “Too good, it’s too good,” You hiccuped. More tears dribbled down your cheeks which were quickly kissed away by your tender husband.

“Good, pretty girl,” You heard him grunt, his thrusts becoming sloppily. He was trying so hard not to cream inside that little cunt of yours. The same man who swore to you on your wedding night that he’d never want to see you weep was getting off on your tears. “Look at your pretty pussy, nena. It’s sucking me in,” He said between breaths, mesmerized by the sticky strings of arousal connecting you every time his hips pulled back. How could you be so pretty? “My wife, my perfect wife. I love you, baby.” Miguel was babbling and his head was churning out thoughts by the second. He could only focus on making you cum.

Slap, slap, slap.

“Miguel! Miguel! Mmngh~!” Saliva dripped down your chin and more gloopy tears spilled from your gorgeous eyes. Each thrust was a kiss to your sweetspot, pussy dripping sweet nectar which left a ring around the base on Miguel’s cock. “Te amo, cariño,” You squealed just as the knot in your tummy tightened as well as your legs around his waist. You were close, and Miguel would stop at nothing until he felt your cunt flutter around him. Despite drilling into your hole, his eyes were soft as he brushed your hair away from your eyes. He was drenched in passion with sweat sticking to his tan skin.

“M’ gonna cum~ C-Can’t hold it,” You whispered and you saw a switch in your husband flip.

Miguel’s talons retreated into his fingers and with strenght, he flipped you over on your stomach and went haywire. Kneading your ass, he whimpered as he chased so desperately after the pleasure. “Close- Cum- cum with me! Nena~” His plush lips fell open and his load filled your womb just as your own sticky fluids ran down the skin of your thighs. Your soaked pussy fluttered and a loud call of his name rang out. “Oh..oh god.”

Spent, Miguel flipped over next to you with labored breaths. His strong arms came around your waist and pulled you on top of his chest. “Miggy,” you purred and kissed his lips. The dim room lighting glinted of the glossy skin of your lover and you swore that your heartbeat had become impossibly fast. The two lovers panted heavily in each other’s arms, waiting for their energy to return so that they could do at all over again.

[heizlut]

omg this is the first time i do this bc i always think i become a burden when i request sth🫠 BUT I PLUCKED MY COURAGE BC I LOVE YOU AND I HAVE A BOMB ASS IDEA BUT MY WRITING CAPABILITIES CANNOT DO IT JUSTICE. Ok so🫢 childhoofriend!/meandom!genshu lin x childhoodfriend!/sub!reader x childhoodfriend!/teasedom!jiyan after the war (lets pretend genshu didnt disappear/get unalived) and they release their pent up emotions by doing the deed and of course reader is more than happy to welcome them. Reader has enough holes for the two as you said😚😚

POOKIEEEE ILYSM🥹🫶🏼 i hope you like this!!!!!

What are Best Friends For?

〰cw: none

〰tags: sub fem!reader, mean dom!geshu lin, teasing dom!jiyan, all childhood besties with each other, creampie, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving, double penetration, anal, a lil degradation, throat fucking, a dash of stinky angst in the beginning

〰nsfw under the cut

〰m!list here

You always worried for your two best friends considering they were always at each other's throats, always arguing about battle strategies, what was right and wrong, or accusing the other of spending more time with you. You still did your best to act as a mediator or to provide them with whatever type of support they needed, no questions asked.

And right now, they both needed you. More than ever.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

Standing in the middle of battleground, the retroact rain surrounds both of them and all of Geshu Lin's soldiers. If looks could kill, Jiyan would be dead on the spot with the way Geshu Lin glowers at him. Jiyan stands his ground, "This isn't right. There's something wrong with this rain. It would be wise to retreat unless you really want everyone to die here."

Geshu Lin's tongue runs across his teeth before speaking in a biting tone, "Last I checked, you were only a combat medic." He scoffs, speaking again with disdain, "If thousands of my men must die, then so be it. Now shut up and keep moving." Jiyan stands there as the general turns away, barking orders at his soldiers, rage and concern bubbling up inside of him.

They both promised you they would be safe, that they would return home to you unscathed. But with Geshu Lin's bullheaded pride, the chances of coming home to the girl they both loved in their own way seemed unlikely. Jiyan couldn't allow Geshu Lin to go through with this.

"General, listen to me", he calls out. Geshu Lin ignores him at first continuing on until Jiyan's next words make him stop dead in his tracks. "What about y/n...? We made her a promise. Do you truly intend to break it?", Jiyan's voice is sad, almost desperate. Desperate for his arrogant childhood friend to just listen to him for once.

Geshu Lin stands still for a few moments before partially turning back to face Jiyan with narrowed eyes. He can see the sincerity and concern in Jiyan's expression, making something twist inside of his chest. "Put aside your pride, Geshu... Stop this before there is no going back", he pleads with deep resolution.

Geshu Lin grits his teeth, fully turning to look at Jiyan. "I'm doing this because of y/n, not because you personally told me to retreat", he growls out. Relief washes over Jiyan's features, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

You stand there pacing back and forth by the front window of your house, gnawing at your fingernails, worried as hell for the men you cared for so deeply. Only a few moments later do you hear their voices as they walk up the path towards your home, arguing with each other as usual.

You throw open your front door, running out to meet them with teary eyes and a smile that wobbles as you try not to cry tears of relief, "You're back! I was so worried I-" Jiyan pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing in your sweet scent.

"No need to worry anymore, I'm here...", he coos softly earning him a harsh glare from Geshu Lin. Geshu Lin pulls you from Jiyan's grasp and into his own embrace. "I'm here too", he speaks through gritted teeth, keeping his golden eyes narrowed at Jiyan who gives him an incredulous look in return.

You breathe out a laugh as Geshu Lin practically squeezes the life out of you, "I'm happy you're both here." You pull back slightly, only able to because Geshu Lin allows you. You look between the two of them with a little smile, "Let's not fight. We're all here together, so let's enjoy this moment." Geshu Lin grumbles and Jiyan gives a hint of a smile.

"Tell me what I can do to make you both happy", you speak, eyes flitting between the two pairs of intense golden eyes as you offer a solution like you always do. Geshu Lin's lips twitch up in a slight smirk which Jiyan catches, releasing a breath as he addresses him, "Be nice, Geshu..." You raise a brow and Geshu Lin's smirk widens as something glimmers in his dangerous gaze, "No promises."

With that, Geshu Lin scoops you up, making you yelp in surprise as he carries you over his shoulder, practically kicking your door down as he enters your home with Jiyan following behind.

Once inside, Geshu Lin sets you down on the bed unceremoniously which makes you laugh out of both surprise and amusement. Jiyan stands by the edge of your bed, watching Geshu Lin's every move, golden eyes flickering between the two of you.

Geshu Lin begins to peel of his clothes piece by piece with a smirk plastered on his fierce but handsome face. His toned muscles ripple in the soft light of your room, pale cock twitching against his abdomen. Jiyan follows suit, stripping off his clothes and tossing them in a pile on the floor.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take in the sight of your two best friends bared before you. Their bodies are different yet similar, equally captivating and littered with old scars. Jiyan is the first to move, kneeling between your legs as his hands travel up your thighs, "You're going to be a good girl for us, yeah?"

You breathe out a small 'yes', to his words, making the corners of his lips curl up as he stands back up, both men looking down at you with a mix of danger and pleasure in their eyes. "Then strip", Geshu Lin chimes in with a sharp command as he slowly strokes his cock.

Your breath hitches at his command. Sure this wasn't anything new between the three of you, but only ever separately. You never thought you would be pleasing them both at the same time, but you would do absolutely anything for them. You strip off your tank top and bra, nipples hardening as the cool air of your room brushes over them.

Next comes your shorts, fingers fumbling the with button and zipper as you tug them down your legs along with your panties, exposing yourself fully to your friends' hungry grazes. You watch as they exchange a glace, their silent communication passing through them as though they've finally agreed on something for once.

Their eyes linger on your body as if committing every inch of you to memory. They both approach with predatory grace, Geshu Lin stands close to your face and Jiyan stands in front of your spread legs. Geshu Lin takes your chin in his free hand, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Here's how this is gonna work, doll. You're gonna lay back and put your head over the side of the bed so I can fuck that pretty mouth of yours", his voice steady and commanding.

He nods his head towards Jiyan, "And Jiyan here is gonna play with that pussy." "But don't you even think about cumming until I give you permission to do so", he growls out.

All you can do is nod before you lay back, positioning yourself in the way Geshu Lin told you to. Your head hangs off the side of the bed, Geshu Lin's cock throbbing in front of you as Jiyan crouches between your legs once more, licking his lips at the sight of your twitching hole.

Jiyan's fingers trace over your folds, spreading them as he exposes your wetness. Two fingers tease your entrance, watching intently as your juices glisten in the soft light and make his digits slick.

A soft gasp has your lips parting, allowing Geshu Lin to angle his cock into your mouth. A low groan escapes his lips when he pushes past your soft lips and stretches your mouth open.

The sudden intrusion makes you clench around nothing as Geshu Lin's taste floods your senses. A garbled moan rises from your throat as you feel Jiyan's fingers press against your wet entrance, teasing you before pushing inside. The dual sensations make your body quiver with need and lust.

Each noise you make sends shockwaves of pleasure through Geshu Lin's cock, making him thrust a little deeper. He reaches down, squeezing your breasts in his hands as if using them to anchor himself to you. "Fuuuck... That's right, doll. Take my cock", he moans as he forces his length deeper down your throat, making you choke slightly.

Jiyan's fingers continue to pump into you, his own cock throbbing with need when he feels you clench around his soaked digits, desperate for something bigger to fill you up. His thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub.

When Jiyan's finger curl up against your spongy, sweet spot, your back arches up, pushing your chest further into Geshu Lin's grasp. Geshu Lin releases one of your breasts only for his palm to crack down against it, making you let out a choked cry around his cock.

"You better hold off that orgasm, doll. I haven't finished yet", he growls. Jiyan chuckles as you writhe against the sheets, fingers continuously curling up inside of you. "Aww, having a tough time, love?", he coos teasingly, relishing in the way your body aches for more.

You try to speak, to beg them to allow you to cum, but all that comes out are muffled whimpers around Geshu Lin's throbbing cock. You squirm again, helpless against Jiyan's expert fingers, feeling as though your body is on fire. With a snarling growl, Geshu Lin pulls out of your mouth as you gasp for air, "Fuck it. Get on your hands and knees. I'd rather cum in your ass instead."

Jiyan's eyes snap up to his at his sudden change of mind, but pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss. Jiyan slides onto the bed, leaning back against your headboard as he beckons you towards him, cock twitching and leaking against his stomach, "Why don't you come up here and ride my cock, love?"

Geshu Lin gives him a sharp glare as he interferes with his plans. As you sit up, you look between the two men, one with a playful smirk on his lips as he pats his lap invitingly and the other has a dangerous look in his eyes that dares you to go against him. Geshu Lin scoffs when you crawl over to Jiyan, straddling his lap instead of following his orders.

Jiyan's smirk widens at your choice as he looks up at Geshu Lin, "Uh oh, seems she might have a favorite~" Geshu Lin snarls at his teasing words, but his eyes can't tear away from watching as you sink down on Jiyan's thick cock with a shuddering moan. Jiyan lets out his own breathy groan, eyes fluttering and head lolling back as he bottoms out inside of you.

Geshu Lin's own cock aches and leaks, still desperate to finish what he started. He climbs into the bed, positioning himself behind you. He grabs your hair, twisting it in his fist as he tugs your head back, "I'm not gonna let you two have all the fun."

He presses a searing kiss to your lips before releasing you as Jiyan's hands slide up your waist, pulling you to lean forward against him. With this new angle, Geshu Lin can see the girth of Jiyan's cock stretching out your cunt and your little asshole twitching in anticipation.

Finally, a little smirk plays on his lips as he lines up his tip with your smaller hole, spitting on it and watching as his saliva drips down towards Jiyan's cock. You suck in a breath when you feel it push and tease against the small ring of muscle.

Jiyan licks up your neck, nipping at your pulse point before pressing a soft kiss in the same spot. His breath ghosts against your slick skin as he teases you, "Relax... You can take it, can't you?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod, making the corners of his lips curl up as his eyes lock with Geshu Lin's in a silent confirmation before pressing another kiss to your neck, "Good girl." You let out a sharp cry as Geshu Lin pushing his cock into your ass the same time that Jiyan thrusts up into your wet cunt.

Geshu Lin hisses as your tight muscles throttle his length, "Fucking relax... Shit...." You feel so incredibly full having both of them inside of you at once, the sensation is utterly overwhelming. You try to hard to relax despite the insane stretch in both of your holes as your body struggles to accommodate them.

Jiyan reaches down, playing with you clit to help ease the pressure. "You're our good girl, aren't you, love..." You relax a little, your breasts squished against his broad chest as you whimper.

Jiyan's eyes flit back to Geshu Lin's with a nod. With zero warning, both men begin to thrust into you holes, making you gasp and moan so beautifully for them.

Both men let out husky groans, eyes rolling back as their cocks rub against each others through the thin layer of skin that separates them. The extra pressure and stimulation sends them reeling as they begin a steady, but brutal rhythm.

Jiyan's cock hits the deepest parts of you, pressing up against your cervix with each deep thrust, while Geshu Lin's cock pushes deep into your unexplored depths.

Tears spring in your eyes from both pleasure and pain. Jiyan continues to rub your clit furiously, bringing back that familiar heat that coils up inside of you as they ravish your holes.

Geshu Lin grips your jaw, tilting your head back as he kisses you with a heated and possessive passion. His tongue pushes and moves against yours as his grip tightens and his hips buck forward erratically.

Watching his friends kiss each other sloppily sparks a possessive and jealous flame within Jiyan. Wanting to bring your attention back to him, he grips your hips and thrusts up especially hard, smirking when you gasp against his friend's lips.

Geshu Lin rolls his eyes as he pulls away from your lips, but moves his hand down to your throat, squeezing lightly. "You're pathetic, you know that?", he scoffs.

You can't tell if that comment was meant for you or for Jiyan but the degradation of his words has you clenching down on both their cocks, making them moan.

Jiyan rubs your clit faster as he spurs on your impending orgasm, "Come on, baby. Cum for us." Your eyes flutter and Geshu Lin applies more pressure to your throat as he whispers harshly in your ear, "I wanna feel you squeeze my cock again. Bet you like being fucked in the ass, huh, doll?"

You whimper, wanting to protest but that would be a fucking lie. It doesn't take long for the coil inside of you to snap as your juices gush all over Jiyan's cock. Both holes milk their cocks for all they're worth as they both shudder and groan, releases load after load of sticky, hot cum inside of you.

Their cocks throb and twitch as they begin to soften inside of you. With another shared look between them, they pull out of you at the same time, making you mewl from overstimulation. Their golden eyes lock onto your holes as their cum drips and and dribbles down your thighs and onto the sheets below.

"Goddamn...", Geshu Lin rasps at the sight. Jiyan feels his spent cock twitch again, arousal pooling in his belly once more. You collapse against Jiyan as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. Geshu Lin sits down beside him and puts his fingers under your chin, making you look to him.

"Give me a kiss", Geshu Lin's voice is softer now, but still holds that commanding edge. You lean towards him, pressing your lips to his gently. He sighs into the kiss, feeling all the tension release from his body. When you pull back, Jiyan redirects your gaze to him, pointing to his own lips with a slight teasing smile, "Me too, love."

You smile a little at both of their antics, but lean forward, kissing him just as softly. Jiyan smiles against your lips before you pull back. Looking between the two of them, your closest friends since childhood, you feel your heart ache with love in your chest.

Leaning forward, you embrace both of them, catching them off guard, "I love you both. I'm glad you're here with me." The sentiment makes them swell with emotions they would rather keep under wraps, but they both love you. They truly do. Always have.

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a/n: whew it got a lil emotional at the end there🥲

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

There’s a knock at the door. You huff as you don’t need to look through the peep hole to know who it is. No buzzer but he always finds a way. 

You pick up your phone and open the chat, ‘told you I’m tired.’ 

The little check mark flicks down. Read. No reply comes, only another knock on the door. 

‘Long day.’ You send another message. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

“You really want me to knock the door down?” Bucky chuckles through the wood. 

You inhale and roll yourself off the couch. You drop the phone on the square end table as you pass and drag your feet to the door. You lean on the inside and yawn as loudly as you can. 

“It’s after curfew,” you jeer. He wiggles the handle. “Go home.” 

“You’re gonna leave me out here like a stray cat? Come on. I came all the way down here,” he pleads. 

You turn your back to the door and shrug, “told you not to. Besides, not all of us have a soft spot for alley cats.” 

“Alpine is not an ally cat. Come on, I brought beer.” 

You scoff, “thought that piss didn’t do anything for ya?” 

“No, but it makes you a lot of fun.” 

You huff and push off the door. You turn and slide back the chain. You flip the lock back and open up. You arch a brow at your uninvited guested. 

“Thank you,” you trill and grab the six pack from him. He catches the door before you can swing it shut. He tuts and steps forward, pushing his elbow into the wood until you let it go. 

“Don’t play games. You know, I can tell when you’re in need of a good fucking. You don’t send any emojis.” He snaps the door shut behind him as you retreat with your prize. 

“Or maybe I was trying to get you to stop texting so I could enjoy my new toy in peace. Ever think of that. Sometimes It's about efficiency, not passion.” 

“Passion?” He scoffs as leans a hand on the wall and lifts a foot to undo his boot. 

“Probably not the right word for this,” you free a can from the plastic rings and shove the rest in the fridge. 

“You and your goddamn toys. Let me guess, this one has blue tooth.” 

“Does yours?” You strut out of the kitchen and flick his arm in passing. 

“No but it’s got all the features you need and you know it.” He taps your ass before you can elude him. 

You crack the can of beer and take a deep gulp. The TV continues to blare the reality show retrospective you’ve been feeding your time to. You flop on the couch and sigh. You suck down the grainy brew and swallow a gulp before it can escape your throat. 

Bucky looms behind the couch and grips the back. He leans over you. “How many of those until those hideous pajamas come off?” 

“Ha? What? You don’t wanna fuck me in my Spongebob jammies? They’re vintage.” 

He snorts, “you really are good a killing the mood, aren’t you?” 

“You’re a real Squidward sometimes, you know that?” You slurp another mouthful. 

“I have no idea what that is,” he says flatly as he tickles along your shoulder. 

You hate it. You hate him. Just a touch and you’re ready to go. Minutes ago, you were ready to pass out but now you’re wide awake. And fucking horny. 

“BPM going up, body temperature rising,” he runs his vibranium knuckles along your cheek and you wince away from him. 

“I hate when you do that.” You pull away and stand, plunking down the can. You huff and peel off your tank top. “I have an interview for a promotion tomorrow so hurry up.” 

“Romantic? Do you still wanna use the new toy? You know I don’t mind filling your mouth when you get like this.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and point to the bedroom. He rolls his eyes and strides off. You pause the television and take another swig of beer. You need to sleep and he’s good at fucking you into a coma. 

As you reach the bedroom, he’s already naked. His broad shoulders are etched in scars, the left one mottled with aged burns along the border of vibranium. His muscles cord down along his rib cage and sides.

A year ago, you would never expect a man like this to be standing naked in your bedroom. A super soldier. Bucky Barnes. 

He turns to you and wiggles the little square between his two fingers. The wrapped condom reflects the overhead light with its flashy packaging. He flexes his chest as you reach to undo your bra. 

“Should I pop it on now or can I get a taste first?” He asks with a flick of his tongue. 

You march to him and swipe the condom from his grasp. You jab his chest and he staggers back to the bed, his legs pressing against the frame. He teeters as he smirks down at you. 

“I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.” 

He falls back and spreads his arms wide. The bed squeaks beneath his weight. You push down your pajama pants and climb over him. You toss the mattress to the top of the bed as you raise yourself on your knees, hovering over his head as his thick hair fans out beneath.

He turns to graze his beard against your thigh. You purr and lower yourself to smother him in your cunt. He hums and laps at you eagerly. 

Mmm. This is exactly the stress relief you need. 

[shares-a-vest]

I feel like over the past week and a half, I have been any given one of the trio in this ficlet. So yeah, I'm projecting onto my blorbos. Enjoy!

Eddie can sense Steve isn't in bed when he blinks awake. It's still dark out and the apartment is freezing. Well, Eddie is freezing without the furnace-like warmth of his boyfriend curled into his side.

He looks over at Steve's nightstand to find that the alarm clock only reads a little past 3am and that's when he begins to panic. It's nowhere near time for Steve's early morning run, nor is it a reasonable enough hour that he might be pottering about in the living room.

So, Eddie hops out of bed and is immediately hit by the winter chill of the two-bed apartment he and Steve share with Robin.

He shivers as he walks into the hallway, where he finds the apartment still shrouded in an icy darkness. He chances a peek into Robin's room, where he finds his housemate sound asleep and snoring, lying in the middle of her bed and certainly without the company of her best friend.

Steve has nightmares – hell, the three of them do. But Steve usually ends up with Robin if the situation arises.

Eddie continues on, now tucking his hands under his armpits, hugging himself as he dips his chin into the loosened neck-hole of his oversized sweater – a maroon-coloured former Harrington Classic.

He tiptoes along so as not to disturb Robin, almost sliding his socks along the floorboards as he makes his way into the living area, his path illuminated by outside street lamps.

Eddie tsks under his breath when he comes across Steve, curled in on himself as he lays soundly asleep on the couch, his nail bat close by on the floor.

Steve hums, or more shivers – visibly freezing as he sleeps in nothing more than an old pair of gym shorts whose material Eddie suspects might evaporate the next time they find themselves in one of the building's shoddy washing machines.

He sits by his boyfriend's side and places a hand on Steve's shoulder, desperate to stir him enough to coax him back to bed, but not spook him entirely.

"Sweetheart," he stage-whispers as Steve grumbles.

"Hmm?" he murmurs before startling awake. His eyes snap to attention and he looks up at Eddie as he speaks full volume, his voice groggy, "I heard a noise."

Steve rubs at his arms, the iciness of their surroundings hitting him now that he is (at least, partially) conscious.

"Love, I need you to come back to bed, it's freezing out here."

"But, I heard a noise," Steve whines, sitting up now.

Eddie can't help it, he presses his palm to Steve's cheek and his heart skips a beat at just how cold he feels.

"Shit," he curses and loops his arm around Steve's middle, commanding, "Bed, now."

Steve grumbles, but complies, lazily reaching for his bat before they both stand up as one. Eddie takes his boyfriend's weight, the bat dragging along by Steve's side as they shuffle back towards their bedroom.

Steve shivers and continues mumbling something about the noise he heard. And Eddie can't tell if it was an actual noise or something heard in that strange (and admittedly, scary) space between wake and sleep. Whatever it is, Steve seems both frightened and stubborn all in one.

He shudders again and Eddie can't bring himself to bite his tongue any longer.

"Baby, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Typically, he'd be all over Steve in such a state of undress – with all that hair and muscle. But right now, his arms are peppered with goosebumps and his eyes are starting to droop with every step.

"Got hot before," Steve explains, weary.

They pass by Robin's bedroom and the door opens fully, revealing a duvet-covered mass and in the darkness, Eddie can still spot a frown.

"What's going on?" she asks, voice like gravel but nonetheless worried.

"I heard a noise, Robbie."

His tone pains Eddie from his heart down to his gut and the same must happen to Robin too because, in an instant, she retreats to her room in haste.

Eddie continues on to his and Steve's bedroom and gently lowers Steve onto the edge of the bed before he takes the baseball bat. He makes a show of rolling it back under the bed but Steve isn't watching. Instead, his boyfriend is looking over at Robin, who has reappeared, cradling a handful of items and hunching her shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep some kind of hold on her blanket.

Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and crosses her as he heads off in search of a sweater. He rifles through a drawer and listens on to what sounds like Robin crowding the nightstand with her stuff before she swishes about the excess bedding. Steve whines and Eddie turns back to find Robin with her arm around her best friend.

"Alright," Eddie says, holding out a navy sweater, "Time for bed."

He gestures for Steve to lift his arms up and he complies. It takes a moment, but Eddie wrestles the near-dead weight of Steve into a cozy sweater before he lifts his legs to help him into bed.

"In the middle, Dingus," Robin instructs, "And don't snore."

"How about, you don't fart," Steve quips, shuffling into the middle nonetheless.

There's a bitchy lilt to Steve's voice that has Eddie relaxing a little. He rolls his eyes, thinking the pair burrowing under the covers will probably bicker on. But honestly, he'd prefer that to the balled-up, half-naked, scared Steve he found out in the living room.

Eddie exchanges a glance with Robin before she reaches for the nightstand and grabs a hot water bottle, her Walkman, a notepad and a pencil.

"What the hell are you doing?" Eddie grouses, rounding his side of the bed – thankful to slip back under the covers.

But he pauses mid-way, distracted now as Robin juggles with her wears.

"I need my things," she grumbles as she places the hot water bottle on her stomach and dry sobs, "Oh no, it has gone cold!"

Steve rolls his eyes in Robin's direction, more sleepily than annoyed.

"Eddie, go get some hot water," he mumble-commands, turning to snuggle in close to his best friend.

"What?"

"Eddie..."

"Fine," he reaches for the hot water bottle and snatches it from Robin's grasp.

Eddie thinks he must love his boyfriend a lot, considering how he freezes his ass off to a doubled-over, teeth-chattering level in the several minutes it takes for their stupid kettle to warm up. And by the time he gets back to the bedroom, Robin is quietly snoring with Steve tucked into her side, the two of them forming a single hair-filled mass of platonic soulmatedness.

Eddie tucks the hot water bottle under Robin's covers as best he can and resumes his spot, giggling at the thought of the inevitable drool that is going to make its way into Steve's hair at some point. He snuggles in behind Steve, forming a cocoon around him and his boyfriend snuffles at the touch.

"It's okay, Stevie," he says, kissing him just behind the ear, "Get some sleep. Don't think about the noise. You're safe here with me and Rob."

"What about my ba –"

"It's back under the bed, sweetheart," Steve hums at that, relaxing against him, "We'll figure out the noise in the morning, I promise."

"'Kay," Steve breathes more than speaks as sleep overcomes him, "Love... you."

"I won't let anything hurt you, Steve," Eddie says, hugging him tight.

[c0mbatchameleon]

Snippet / microfic / something idk

Aka where Regulus wakes up half drunk on the floor of his brother’s apartment and forgets that the spare bedroom is no longer a spare bedroom

The moonlight has carved out a hollowness into the room when Regulus opens his eyes. There’s music playing, still, for an audience of empty cups and a few toppled chairs and the snoring bodies of his friends on the couch.

Barty is splayed out over Evan, face buried into his neck like he doesn’t need air, but rather, he lives and breathes the boy beneath him. Evan’s hand has planted roots in his skull, twisted into matted hair. Flecks of glitter sprinkle every inch of the boys, a sparkle here and there in their hair, embedded in their skin, their eyelashes and parted lips. They’re a grimy sort of angelic in their blacked-out state, sleep blanketing them in an innocence you’d never find otherwise.

It’s not the first time he’s waken here, stiff back and sour taste in his mouth. He stumbles to the kitchen sink and sticks his head in, letting the water run rivers down his face and neck as he drinks it in gulps. It’s about a full minute of that, and then running his hands over his face for good measure, before he continues his trek to the bathroom, scouring the cabinet for mouthwash and taking a swig straight from the bottle and then swishing it and spitting into the sink, hands gripping the porcelain to hold up his own weight. It’s a wonder he’s been able to stand for this long with exhaustion dragging him down like an anchor tied to his limbs.

He trails behind himself into the hall and then his usual room, hands held out in front of him in the absence of sight. It takes a minute to find the bed. Once he does, he’s unceremoniously tugging back the covers and collapsing onto the mattress, sleep already overtaking him.

He sighs, half in relief and half in pain, pulling up the covers and-

“Well this is new.”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

Regulus’s skull collides with the headboard before he can form a cohesive thought.

Sleep has made a hasty retreat, driven out by adrenaline and pure fear. The man in his bed—James, to be specific—instinctively shoots a hand out, clasping onto his arm.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” Regulus whisper-yells, propped halfway up on his arm with the other hand clutching his head.

“What am I doing in my bed?”

Regulus blinks. Fuck. He forgot this bed actually belonged to someone. Not just someone. Of course, never just someone.

“I… forgot you lived here.”

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, now. He watches James stare at him, dumbfounded, for a few beats. And then he bursts into a fit of laughter.

Of course the fucker is laughing. It blooms on his face like Spring itself; even here, dimly lit and squinting, it’s blinding. Rays of sunlight cutting through his teeth as he gasps for breath inbetween. Flower and leaf and fruit sprouting from his throat, and Regulus is just too tipsy to avoid the vines coiling around him, his arms and legs and chest, taking root in his own throat, planting seeds in his lungs.

He’s too tired to fight the branches stretching out like hands and pulling at the corners of his own lips, coercing a smaller laugh. He doesn’t even think it’s that funny, maybe James is just delirious. Maybe he’s still a little drunk, too.

“You forgot I lived here. In my room. In my apartment.” James relays, his hysterics reigned in to a splitting grin. Blinding, blinding, still blinding. He’s on his side, head resting in his hand—the other hand is still on Regulus, a light touch burning holes through his clothes, the skin on his shoulder, the muscle and bone marrow, planting more seeds, sprouting more life. He’s staring up at Regulus with sparkling eyes. Who gave him this much joy? Who gave him the idea to direct any of it his way?

Even here, in the middle of the night, waking him up just to shed glitter on his clean sheets and yell at him for existing in his own home.

Regulus doesn’t deserve it. But he can’t find it in himself to deny it right now.

“I may have, uh, passed out in here drunk a few times when you weren’t here last year.”

“A few times?” James asked, eyebrows raised, hand still there.

“Ok. Maybe a lot. Forgot it wasn’t actually mine,” Regulus admits, trying not to shortcircuit from the contact. Trying to relocate the mask of indifference he misplaced after the 3rd or 4th shot. He can just barely feel he’s still smiling, stupidly. He can’t find the right muscles to make it go away.

The analog clock on the dresser across the room reads 3:27 AM in a blue glow. Regulus knows the sensible thing to do now is get up, but the soft arms of sleep are extending from somewhere below, furling around his body and pulling down. The mattress, James’s mattress, might be the softest thing he’s ever laid rest on and it’s enveloping him like quicksand. He lets his head drop forward like dead weight as he musters the strength to move.

“Well don’t let me stop you, then,” James says, amusement and something strangely resembling adoration painted on his face. “I can sleep on the couch, if you want.”

It’s all way too casual for the absolutely absurd offer.

Regulus stares at him in disbelief. “You’re just gonna let me kick you out of your own bed.”

James shrugs, “You look comfy.”

There’s the distant hum of a car engine passing outside, an intermittent clicking sound from the run down heater in the room. The window shade is somewhat transparent, which defeats the whole fucking purpose of the thing, much to Regulus’s annoyance—he’s awoken, against his will to many a sunrise in this room—and a nearby streetlight gently pollutes the darkness, illuminating James from behind in a halo of muted yellow light.

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Regulus replies, still not moving. James laughs softly. A few daisies sprout in the garden growing between them. “Barty and Evan are on the couch, anyway.”

“I’ll take the floor then.”

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking floor for me.”

“Well I’m more than happy to share, then.”

“You’re not- what?” His bemusement distracts him momentarily from the growing effort of keeping his eyes open. James squeezes his shoulder lightly, the bastard, drawing a small breath from him that he hopes to god goes unheard, before finally drawing back his hand.

“I sleep on the floor or we both sleep here. Your choice.”

“And if I sleep on the floor?”

“I’ll still sleep on the floor out of spite. I don’t think you could get up if you tried, right now, anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Regulus groans. He fully collapses in defeat onto the pillow as he says it, which might take some of the edge out of the remark.

“I really don’t mind the floor, love. Good for the back and all. I’ve got tons of extra pillows and blankets, anyway,” James says, gesturing to the floor next to his bed.

“Just sleep in the god damn bed,” Regulus sighs. He shuffles so he’s on his back, one arm bent over his head rather dramatically, and closes his eyes. He’s fully relented in his battle with his own exhaustion now, and it’s closing in fast.

James doesn’t move for a moment. Regulus can feel his gaze like a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to smell his own clothes begin to smoke in the wake of it. “Are you sure?” he finally asks, playful tone receding. “I just- I should warn you I’m a bit of an.. active sleeper. And I know you don’t always like people touching you-“

“It’s alright when it’s you.”

It comes out nearly a whisper now as he sinks. He’ll blame it on alcohol or delirium, tomorrow, if he’s not outright denying having said it. He doesn’t actually know why he said it out loud. Regulus usually keeps the truth to himself, as a general rule.

The last thing he hears before falling asleep is James’s small intake of breath, followed by a faint “Oh. Yeah?” and then reality rescinds entirely.

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: tooth rotting fluff

A thunderous sound wakes you in the middle of the night. You blink in the darkness, trying to get your bearings. Slowly, you flip on the light and look around. Everything seems to be in place. The thunder-like sounds come again, startling you. You quickly shuffle out of bed and down to the front door, flipping on lights as you go.

You get to the door as the person knocks a final time. It was such a ridiculously loud knock that you're sure it probably woke the neighbors. You open the door to reveal a worn down looking Ghost. He's still in his gear and has his go bag slung over one shoulder.

"It's four in the morning, Riley," you tell him pointedly, not having enjoyed being woken up.

"Barracks needed renovations, need somewhere else to stay," he grumbles. You sigh and open the door wider so he can squeeze past you. The barracks are fine and accommodations would have been made if they really did need to renovate them. This was merely a lame excuse to stay at your house. He always came with a bad excuse.

You slip into the kitchen to start heating up some leftovers and putting water on to boil. Simon heads to the living room, toeing his boots off and taking a second to relax. He leans back against the couch. Simon always liked your house, ever since you had the team over for a barbecue. That was over a year ago. He liked that you had warm lights, not the florescent white ones he was used to. He liked that you didn't have overhead lights, only cute little lamps and fairy lights. He liked that your house always smelled like milk and honey. He liked that your couch was soft and covered in blankets, not like the couch in the barracks that had holes the stuffing was falling out of. He liked that he felt safe.

This routine started shortly after the barbeque. Simon would show up on your doorstep after a mission, bruised and battered. You always welcomed him in, no matter how late or how early. You would make him tea and something to eat. Even though he has told you several times that it really isn't necessary. He likes that you're so reliable, that you never push him more than he's comfortable with. He's surprised and grateful that you have yet to turn him away.

You come into the living room, setting down a tray of soup and bread. It smells delicious and Simon sits up, his stomach rumbling. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought. You chuckle lightly at him. "What's your pick of poison tonight? I just dried a fresh batch of mint," you ask. Before Simon met you, he would have said earl gray. It's the only tea he drank for years. But after spending the night so often and you happily chatting about the newest herbal tea blend you made, he slowly came around to trying something new. His favorite, and yours, was peppermint. The warm, sweet menthol helped him relax.

"Mint please," he says, barely above a whisper, "with sugar."

You crack a smile and nod. Your disgruntlement at being woken up seems to have dissipated. "Eat up. Tea will be done in a minute," you beam, retreating back into the kitchen. Simon watches you disappear before picking up the tray. He takes a bite of the soup and can't help but sigh. It's warm and savory and it reminds him of a hug. This was his favorite part of staying at your house. Your cooking was always phenomenal to him, even if you said it wasn't your best. He loved everything you made.

One time, you made cookies and tea cakes for the 141. Price had put them in the common room, telling everyone you had made them treats. Johnny was the only one who managed to snatch a cookie before Simon commandeered the rest. Kyle had pouted for days. Not that Simon cared much, he was too busy scarfing down tea cake.

You come back to the living room, sitting down beside Simon. He was nearly finished with the soup by now. You set his tea down in front of him and curl up into the couch cushions. You knew he didn't like to talk much, certainly not if he was coming over after a mission. No matter what excuse he told you, you knew why he was here. You knew you would wake up to his screams tonight. You knew you would have to coax him into your bed. You knew you would spend the night running your fingers through his hair while he silently cried into chest. You always knew. And yet you didn't care. In fact, you started to look forward to getting a late night knock on your door. You hated that he couldn't let go of his demons, you hated to hear the pain in his screams. But you liked that he found comfort in you. You liked that he felt safe with you.

You gently reach over and start carding your fingers through his blond locks. A shiver runs down his spine before he begins leaning into your touch. He sets his tea down and lays down, his head in your lap. The warm light makes your skin seem to glow and you were being so gentle with him. He swears you might be an angel. No mortal woman could see such a scarred monster and still treat him with such kindness. Not after knowing all the blood he's spilled. But as his eyes begin to get heavy and he listens to the soft lullaby you hum, he knows he's willing to spill more if it means he can spend his nights here with you.

(I might make this into a full fic if it gets enough interest. This was inspired by a post from @bookished

Edit: I just posted chapter one)

[wileys-russo]

would die for anything laura f. related so 'I don’t even want your attention – that much.' and kitchen please?

study buddy II l.freigang

you looked up with a confused frown at the knocks at your door, not expecting anyone and buried in a mountain of revision for your upcoming exam, in your final semester of university and nailed down into prep mode.

you waited a moment until the knocks sounded again before getting to your feet, dropping your pen into your textbook to mark your page and clicking pause on the timer you used to track your breaks.

you padded over to the door on sock covered feet, rubbing your eyes which ached from concentrating for so long but you needed to memorize these flash cards before you could even think about stopping.

your frown deepened when you peeked through the small hole in your door and it had gone black clearly covered by something, undoing the chain halfway and peeking out through the crack to see who was there before you opened it all the way.

"boo!" you almost fell over in shock as an eye locked with yours, a tongue poked out next with a groan like a zombie making your eyes roll and unlock the door properly with a huff.

"hallo liebling!" the blonde sung out happily, inviting herself inside with an armful of bags and striding on past you as you sighed tiredly and closed the door, locking it again.

"lau. we talked about this, i have to study!" you reminded, spinning around and crying out in shock as she was mere centimeters from you. "no hello back?" the blonde shook her head, taller body collapsing into yours as she hugged you.

"stop sniffing me you freak!" you chuckled, pushing her off and rolling your eyes. "you smell good. i missed you!" she defended, crossing her arms and awaiting you to say it back as you stayed silent.

"oh laura i missed you too." the footballer mocked, tutting with a shake of her head.

"i have to study. which means we agreed i would see you after my final, because you are a distraction freigang." you reminded sternly as she retreated back to your kitchen.

"i came here to cook you dinner schatz. then i will leave, and you can go back to pretending like you don't miss me. which i know, you do!" she pointed to you with a wink and a cheeky grin, starting to unpack the paper bags she'd carried in with her.

"lau this is very sweet, but i really need to memorize these flash cards and-" your protests were silenced as the blonde strode back over and stole a kiss, hands on your hips and her favourite beanie sitting lopsided on the top of her head.

"then go memorize. i will be quiet as a mouse, you will not even know i am here!" the girl zipped her lips, threw away the key and held her hands up as you couldn't help but smile as she sent you another wink.

knowing just how stubborn she could be you knew you weren't getting out of this and really you had missed her, between your exams and her training schedule you'd hardly seen your girlfriend over the last fortnight.

so with a sigh you shook your head, moving to hug her from behind, craning your neck up to kiss her cheek appreciatively as she tilted her head backward and tapped her lips making you laugh and peck them a few times.

"go study!" the girl ordered, foot cheekily kicking your ass causing you to playfully glare at her as you retreated back to the table which was covered in your flashcards and textbooks.

sitting back down you tried to tune into your studies again, grabbing a marker and starting to highlight all of the key points you wanted to have memorized by tonight from each subsection of your cards.

it went well for around a half an hour, the only thing occasionally pulling you from your thoughts the smell of whatever your girlfriend was cooking as you sat with your back to her and fought every temptation to turn around and talk to her.

but of course, laura being laura, was only well behaved for so long before she grew bored and a little restless, all of the real work done and now just awaiting the stew she'd made to sit and cook properly before it could be served.

so she pulled herself up to sit on the counter of your island bench, snacking away on a few spare sticks of carrot she hadn't used as she doom scrolled through her social medias before that too grew uninteresting.

swinging her feet she watched you, only really able to see the back of your head but smiling softly realizing the hoodie adorning your top half was hers.

you were deep in thought, eyes scanning one of your flashcards intently when you could have sworn you felt something hit the back of your neck, you rubbed it with a frown but told yourself you must have been imaging it.

only a few seconds later, there it was again, but once more you rubbed the back of your neck unable to feel anything and huffing in annoyance, glancing upward to confirm there wasn't a leak of some sort.

but then a few seconds later you jumped as something bounced past you on the table, skidding to a stop as it thumped your text book and you pulled a face seeing it was a piece of carrot.

"lau! are you throwing carrot at me?" you spun around with a scowl, throwing it back at her as she grinned innocently. "no, not at you!" she emphasized as you narrowed your eyes at her.

but putting two and two together from the mischievous sparkle in her eyes you sighed, a hand reaching back to dig around in the hood of your hoodie and sure enough you pulled out two more little pieces of carrot.

"baby i need to study. if you're bored go watch something in my room till dinners done." you offered, dropping the carrots onto the table and turning back around to focus on your notes.

you heard a gentle thud as she dropped down from the island, and assumed she was going to your bedroom only a few seconds later arms wound around your neck, her chin settling on your head.

"what are you studying?" laura asked curiously, ring covered fingers playing absentmindedly with the L necklace around your neck that she'd gifted you a few months into seeing one another.

"the same thing i've been studying my entire university degree." you teased, the german mocking you and pinching your cheeks. "take a break, come have a cuddle. i read it is good for your...endorphins?" the blonde guessed making you chuckle.

"oh really? and where did you read this?" you questioned, eyes dropping back down to the flashcard in your hand. "mmm google. so is that a yes?" she asked hopefully, ducking down to kiss your cheek a few times.

"...no. i need to study!" you laughed, pushing her off as she groaned, throwing her head back to really push the dramatics of it. "i thought i wouldn't even know you're here?" you challenged with a raise of your eyebrows as the blonde held her hands up in surrender.

"okay. okay. you got me! from now, you will not even know i am here." she promised, again zipping her lip as you hummed and turned back to your notes, laura retreating into your bedroom to watch something as you'd suggested earlier.

you were rewarded by another five minutes of peace and quiet before you jolted, startled by loud laughter coming from your bedroom, shaking your head with a small smile on your lips.

and then, again, and again, and again.

"there is no way whatever she is watching is that funny." you grumbled, pushing back and out of your chair, stomping over to your room finding the blonde curled up in your bed watching some reality show on your tv.

"are you done studying?" laura asked, perking up and patting the empty spot behind her, opening her arms expectantly as you leaned in the doorway. "no. are you done fake laughing to get my attention?" you cocked an eyebrow as she scoffed.

"i was not!" "was too."

"i don't even want your attention...that much." your girlfriend shook her head firmly, crossing her arms and staring back at the tv. "oh no? well i will go back to my textbook then and-" you started to turn before she cracked, flopping herself down dramatically onto her back.

"okay meine liebe i lied! i am so bored and so lonely and i miss you so much and i need your attention and i know you need to study but just watch a movie and eat dinner with me and then i will leave!" the blonde groaned, arms covering your face as you shook your head.

"this is the part where you feel sorry for me." your girlfriend reminded, words muffled against her arms as your eyes rolled at her theatrics but none the less you made your way into the bedroom.

"honestly you're the most dramatic girl in germany." you teased, slipping into bed beside her and squealing as she nearly tackled you down into a tight bear hug, kissing all over your face making you laugh.

"wait! lau is something...burning?" "scheiße!"

[hazelfoureyes]

Coven: @fraugwinska @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes @macabr3-barbi3 @synamartia (banners by Syn!)

Masterlist for Kinktober (Thank you Syn!)

Kinktober 2024 - Day 19 - Cuckolding

Alastor fucks Lucifer’s wife and Lucifer isn’t as mad as he thought he’d be about that.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

「warnings/promises: Alastor x AFAB!Reader, breathplay, breeding kink if you truly look in your heart, cuckolding the king of hell is a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off for him, creampie, cock too big but Alastor is ambitious and indifferent」

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

MDNI 🦌 🚗

Alastor was already rubbing his cock length between your wet folds when Lucifer walked in the room. The king stopped, in obvious shock, to see his daughter’s hotelier fucking his wife. Well, about to fuck his wife.

He opened his mouth to speak but his attempt to say your name was drowned out by you moaning Alastor.

Alastor looked up, locking eyes with his sovereign as the shorter man seemed torn between coming in and retreating. The sound of your voice was candied; sweet and crisp. For some odd reason, he felt like he was intruding on your pleasure. Not that you could see your husband, the door was to the right and behind the large four post bed and taken out of your view entirely by a small enclave.

He’d expected his majesty to show up, but more towards the end. What was the point of fucking his wife if he didn’t get to feel Lucifer’s rage and humiliation over it?

A wicked grin spread on the radio demon’s face, one hidden from you as your eyes were clenched. He wasn’t terrible at improv, he could give it a whirl for the early audience. Your senses focused on the feeling of his heated member, cockhead catching on your clitoral hood as he ran it up and down slowly. It had all happened so fast that you didn’t stop to consider what you were doing. 

Everyone was drinking and dancing and partying, then Alastor was beside you. There was no sudden shift to blame. He took you for a spin around the room, and he said some funny things about the hotel, some sly things about upgrading wives, and then… a dark chuckle, warm breath on your neck, a proposal and now you were on your back in your marital bed.

Lucifer had always allowed you freedom to be with who you wanted, no restrictions to your pleasure nor to his. But, everyone knew how poorly he got on with Alastor. The image of his face screwed up and a fake smile twitching, sputtering out nervous noises of confusion floated to the surface of your mind. 

“Is this why I was summoned here tonight, my queen? To service you?” Alastor’s voice was low, but not quiet. It dispelled your husband's visage and roused you to open your eyes. Your response was a whimper, his own reply was a distant and nearly cruel laugh echoing off the walls.

You wouldn’t lie—- he’d caught your eye some time ago. Who didn’t like the hard to get? Though this had proven much easier than you’d anticipated.

Lucifer took a step forward into the room, a glare that threatened Alastor’s very soul made the sinner shiver. Alastor understood quite well he was most likely going to die a second, more permanent death. Why not put on a show as he went out?

You gasped, hands gripping into the bedding, as Alastor began to press into you. He’d been teasing you for just a few minutes.

Lucifer froze.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, and you nodded. You were wet and your pussy was willing, but his cock head was thick. The end was blunt, forcing your entrance to bend and stretch. “If only I had more time to prepare you… you’ll have to invite me again to the palace.” His hips moved and you gritted your teeth. “I promise it’ll be worth the pain, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t asked you if you needed him to stop, but you nodded again in understanding.  The thin skin beneath your hole felt sure to tear as he demanded a wider entrance, but the ache for him deep in your cunt was overpowering the instinct to pull from the pain. So far.

Lucifer felt himself lean back before he thought to do it, shoulder slightly knocking into the door and startling him. He could see Alastor’s cock suddenly lose length as his head popped in. The hate in his heart was being suffocated by the spark just south of his belt. Every ounce of outrage outweighed by the heavy sounds of your excited breathing. You whimpered, legs clamoring up and a foot coming to press into Alastor’s lower stomach. 

“None of that, dear.” His large hand wrapped around your ankle and lifted your leg up, resting it on his shoulder. The tension of your muscles made it hard to pull it back to yourself, causing you to be spread even wider for him. 

Regardless of how slick his head was, slit leaking excitedly into you already, he still grated against your insides. Precum meant nothing when his flesh was pushing up and out so harshly against your own walls. Until your body accommodated his girth, the experience felt closer to your first time than a quickie with the famed demon.

Lucifer saw the moment Alastor’s head and glands bullied past your g-spot, your thighs and stomach visibly tensing. The feeling of him pressing in and then releasing your inner spot was one that made your body feel weak from the core out.

Your breath hitched, “Ah- Alastor. Slower.” Your hands stretched to touch his knees and grip, but he just hummed, disembodied radio studio audience cooing at your pathetic request. He did not slow down. The advancing length continued to push you apart.

Upsettingly, Lucifer found your noises stirring his own arousal noises more and more. Alastor’s attention flitted back to Lucifer, eyes meeting his before drifting down to the prominent bulge forming as his cock tried to straighten itself upright inside the confines of his tight, ridiculous circus master pants. He offered a smile to his king before snapping his hips forward. His balls pressed into the soft round flesh of your ass as he dug himself as deeply as he could reach.

When you let out a small yelp and tried to scurry up the bed, Lucifer’s hand came to adjust his erection in his pants. Lingering, his fingers traced the outline of his manhood as he listened to your whine melt into a soft moan. Your vocal responses to sex always spurred him into a frenzy, though usually he was the one making you whimper. His cock didn’t know that though, it just knew you were feeling good. Very good, by the sounds of it. 

You held your breath as he pulled out halfway and slowly returned to your heat. He was churning up your insides, trying to elicit more of your own fluids to lubricate him. Alastor could feel he was snug in you, your walls writhing around him as you twitched at the intrusion.

A few more testing thrusts before Alastor pulled out to the very tip and began to fuck you proper. Your hole didn’t appreciate the repeated burn of his glands popping out and pushing back in, but knowing he was fucking you wider around him just made you fall deeper into the blind fog of lust. Lucifer was always so gentle, even when he was rough. But somehow Alastor’s most tender touches were still harsh.

You were entirely unaware of your husband some meters behind you, palm rubbing his cock through his pants to the pace of Alastor’s thrusts. 

“How are you feeling?” He leaned up and over, body bending unnaturally as his spine curved. Your mouth hung open, body slack with occasional jolts of pleasure. It wasn’t right, he needed you seizing and tense, “Tell me what you need.” If he couldn’t make you a shuddering mess begging for him then he was really just wasting his time. He wanted the king of hell to feel inferior. This happened to be one of the best ways to manage that.

Lucifer knew what you needed, because he often found himself helping you along with firm hands. 

You were too scared to ask, instead putting a hand on your throat and gently squeezing. 

“Ooh, look at you! Who knew the queen of hell enjoyed breathplay? I am happy to oblige you.” A hand several times larger than your husband’s rested on your throat, long fingers curling as he tightened in slow increment. You moaned when the pressure was perfect, and he stopped the increasing vice.

Your hips lifted slightly, chasing the feeling of his pelvis hitting against your clit. 

His body covered yours entirely, your own bent in half as he used your legs for both support and grip. Lucifer’s hand scraped against his belt as he shoved it into his pants to get contact with his now pulsing member. Your eyes were watering, mouth open and pleasured noises spilling from you with every move of your illicit lover’s body. The roll of his hips coaxed more and more of your fluids to leak and gather on his cock. 

“Look how wet you are, does the king not take care of you? My my, even the bedding is soaked.” He said it to you, but his eyes were peering through his sweat-dampened hair to Lucifer, now fully resting against the door as he stroked himself under his clothes. 

Finally properly covered in your arousal, Alastor was gliding through you. Every time his head hit your cervix and bottomed out, a small jolt of pain shot up your womb and stomach. He couldn’t fit himself entirely in without making your cervix bow against him. However he still did, shoving the rest of himself in randomly to get fully sheathed in your pussy every few times he fucked into you. 

There was some form of disinterest in your discomfort that made the situation even more arousing. Alastor only cared for your pleasure, he didn’t seem bothered at all with how much your body struggled to accommodate him while receiving that pleasure. 

Neither did you, though.

“Harder.” You choked out. Lucifer had to bite his bottom lip and still his hand to keep from moaning wantonly and breaking the illusion of privacy you and Alastor were in. 

Alastor chuckled again, the laugh trailing off high and wicked with a flourish of stations flipping through static. He leaned back, taking both legs by the knees and hooking them at the junction of his arms to pull you into his lap every time he thrusted forward. Effortlessly he jerked your body to meet his demanding pace.

“How is that, my queen?” Panted through groans, Alastor finding it hard to keep composure when you were so shockingly needy. He could nearly forget Lucifer was against the far wall, fucking into his own fist. But not quite.  “You’re so tight,  I’m sure our majesty will feel my absence the next time he fucks you.” He said it purely for your husband’s displeasure. 

The tension was ratcheting, the quick pace and occasional knock against your womb pulled long cries from you that stole your senses and any concerns about embarrassment. He was deeper in you than felt right, and you wanted him to fuck you until you were changed to fit him perfectly. 

You flinched, Alastor’s hand coming to stroke the black swirl of lines vaguely forming a heart (or was that an apple?) above your womb. “Is this the famed marking?” Tears streamed down from your eyes and tickled your ears. “The gift of fertility from your betrothed?” A silent scream pulled your body taut, orgasm so close you were scared to breathe and lose it. “I know it’s made just for him, but don’t blame me for trying.”

Releasing your legs, he pinned you under the full weight of his body. His elbows rested just above and to the sides of your head as his long thrusts now became short and deep. No longer was he teasing your body with part of his length but now burying it into you. Alastor was chasing his own release, sensitive and weeping slit of his cock smashing into the obstinate entrance of your womb.

You came with a broken scream, cervix lowering to receive the seed of your lover regardless of vows as your walls worked in tandem to coax his cock to breed you. 

Lucifer could relax and let himself cum to the sounds of Alastor’s pistoning member without fear, his mark only allowing you to truly receive his seed. He shuddered, body falling forward as he let his mind focus on the sounds of the room. Tight balls smacking into you and popping as they stuck to the thick slick coating your inner thighs and dripping down your cheeks. Your screams broke and devolved into wails and pleading, wordless begging for something– more, less, slower, deeper, it was unclear but you didn’t protest when Alastor quickened. 

He leaned his head back in time to watch Alastor’s hips press once, then twice and drive your body into the mattress. He could see the back of Alastor’s thighs twitching and tensing as his cock was surely pulsing shots of his hot semen into your hungry womb. The smallest flicker of worry about the failsafes of his magical mark appeared as he saw Alastor give your cunt another deep push before quickly pulling out with an audible pop of your body separating from his. 

You flinched again at the sudden loss, feeling something warm and thick threatening to leak out from your stretched and sore entrance.

“Quite the hostess, I have to say.” His finger pushed his cum back in. His other hand slipped up and over the marking with a ghost of reverence at the power therein before his presence entirely left the bed. “Lovely party, dear! Do invite me over again soon.” With a snap his pants were back on and shirt neatly buttoned.

As he approached Lucifer, still recovering in the shadows of the room’s entrance, he couldn’t contain his grin. Lucifer didn’t miss the way the sinner’s eyes shot to his hand and disheveled pants before returning to his flushed face.

Alastor’s own, still wet with the mix of you and him, came to touch and then swipe across the king’s chest as he slipped through the still open door, “Absolutely lovely.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[caelivir]

one thousand paper stars | rayne ames

note. something quick and cute bc i love and miss rayne so bad. wc is 535.

rayne’s closet doesn’t change much. you would know. you’re always rummaging through it in order to steal his hoodies. that’s why when there’s something different about it, you’ll notice it straight away.

your brain immediately tells you that the jar next to the neatly folded shirts on the shelf is a new addition. you pluck it out of its spot and examine it closely.

it’s about halfway full, containing a colorful collection of what appears to be origami stars. a string of yarn is wrapped around the base of the lid. it loops once again through a blank, hole-punched tag.

confused but still intrigued, you can’t help but admire the stars, a smile growing on your face. you shake the jar, watching as the intricate folds of paper jump around.

at the same time, your boyfriend walks into his room, and his eyes go straight to the object in your hands.

“rayne!” you beam. “what’s this?”

a small pout forms on the half-blonde’s face as he ambles towards you. “you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“why not?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“it’s not finished yet.” he answers, a hint of disappointment in his voice. rayne takes the jar out of your hands and places it back into its original spot in his closet.

“are you making them for someone?” you wonder, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

“yeah. you.” rayne replies, dead serious.

you blink. “me?”

“that’s what i just said.”

“okay, smartass.” you roll your eyes, arms slipping around rayne’s body. “why though?”

“if i make one thousand of them, you’re supposed to be granted good luck and love.” your boyfriend answers, reciprocating your hug.

“you’re folding one thousand of those?!” you exclaim, jaw falling.

“the real goal is ten thousand, but one thousand is the starting goal.” the half-blonde shrugs like folding five digits worth of paper is normal.

you laugh in disbelief, in admiration, and in love. “you don’t need to do that. you could’ve made me one paper star, and that would’ve been enough for me.”

“but i want to though.” rayne’s eyes soften as he cups your cheek. his warmth buries itself in your skin. he presses a delicate kiss on your forehead. “you deserve more than one paper star. you deserve more than just paper stars. i would give you the whole sky if i could.”

your heart melts at his words. your instinct allows you to pull rayne in for a short but still electrifying kiss. “rayne ames, you are too good to me.” you grin like a little kid once you pull away.

“and i’ll be even better,” rayne swears. his gaze travels to the open closet. “but you have to stop going through my closet when i’m not around.”

“it’s cold!” you whine.

“there’s blankets on the couch.”

“your hoodies are better.” you stick out your tongue playfully, escaping your boyfriend’s grasp to remove one off the hanger.

“i let you get away with too many things.” rayne sighs, shaking his head.

“it’s because you love me.” you tease with a wink as you practically slip out with the hoodie now covering your upper body.

rayne grins, watching your retreating figure. “that i do.”

[bansurii]

Pen Pals

pair: sukuna x afab!reader

content: smut, stalking, threats, slight violence, dubious consent i think ?, profanity, choking, an impossible angle, sukuna is a serial killer but we never touch fully on that, reader is scared a lot, and idk what more is needed but just be careful proceeding MDNI thank you!

line dividers @cafekitsune

“So, what if your charming pen pal turns out to look like Quasimodo?”

“I have his picture! Besides, it’s not like we’ll ever actually meet. He’s serving life.”

Your friend gaped at you, her eyes widening in disbelief. 

The conversation had begun with your usual letter-writing ritual. What had once been a simple hobby had evolved into an infatuation with a man labeled as one of the world's most dangerous criminals. Despite his reputation, his letters had been nothing but kind, making your heart flutter with each new page. His picture revealed a ruggedly handsome man, his body adorned with tattoos that hinted at a dangerous past.

You had told your friend about him almost a year ago. Predictably, she responded with trepidation, urging you to choose a less notorious correspondent. 

“He’s still a person,” you’d argue. “Even the most hated need love too. And what harm could he do if he never knows where I live, let alone what I look like?”

However, his latest request had unsettled you both. He wanted a picture of you, something to remember you by during lonely times. Your friend was livid when you mentioned it.

“You cannot send him a picture! What if he has friends on the outside? I refuse to become a target because of your bad decisions!”

You laughed it off, continuing to write a diplomatic yet affectionate refusal. Your friend, exasperated, finally sighed in defeat.

“Well, enjoy writing to the serial killer. I’m staying at my boyfriend’s place for a while. If he gets out and comes after you, call the police first, then me.”

You reassured her with a laugh, promising to be cautious. She hugged you tightly before leaving. Neither of you noticed the grey car parked across the street, its presence having become so familiar it was easily ignored.

The following evening, a knock at your door startled you. Expecting your friend, you were puzzled to find no one there. Just a box. 

With a mix of excitement and dread, you approached the door. The box bore a note in handwriting you recognized instantly:

*Such a beautiful home. I thought you would enjoy a little gift from the other side…*

Your anxiety surged. You scanned the empty, unnaturally quiet street before retreating inside. The flickering streetlight across from your home seemed dimmer than usual, casting eerie shadows. A rustle in the bushes sent you scurrying back inside, locking the doors and setting the alarm with trembling hands.

The box sat ominously on your coffee table. Despite your curiosity, fear kept you from opening it. Instead, you holed up in your room, hoping sleep would come despite the dread gnawing at you.

In the dead of night, you jolted awake to the sound of metal scraping against metal. Someone was inside your home. 

Determined not to fall into the typical horror trope of investigating, you stayed put. But then you heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, ascending the carpeted stairs.

Panic gripped you. Clutching the bat you kept in your closet, you listened as the intruder approached. The door across the hall creaked open, and you steeled yourself for the worst. But then you recognized the sounds—muffled giggles and a familiar voice.

Relief washed over you. Your friend had returned, and apparently brought her boyfriend. You set the bat down, heart still racing, and fell back into bed, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion.

In the morning, you would face the box and the mysteries it held. For now, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of your bed, hoping that sleep would bring a respite from the turmoil of the past few days.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your bedroom. Despite the terror of the previous night, you felt a strange sense of calm as you padded downstairs. The box still sat on the coffee table, its presence a reminder of the eerie note and the mystery it held.

Taking a deep breath, you sat on the couch and gingerly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of luxurious velvet, was an object that took your breath away. It was a stunningly crafted necklace, the centerpiece a large, gleaming sapphire surrounded by intricate filigree work in white gold. The piece was elegant, expensive, and utterly out of place for something sent from a prison.

You lifted it gently, the gem catching the light and casting tiny rainbows across the room. For a moment, the sheer beauty of the necklace overshadowed your fear. How could something so exquisite come from a man behind bars?

Elated but wary, you turned the necklace over in your hands, inspecting every detail. It was flawless, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. This was no ordinary gift. 

Your mind raced. How did he manage to send something so extravagant? More importantly, how did he know your address? You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recalled your friend's words: *“What if he has friends on the outside?”*

The realization hit you hard. He must have outside help. Someone capable of acquiring such a piece and delivering it to your doorstep. Your elation was quickly replaced by a deep sense of unease. 

How long had he known where you lived? You thought back to the grey car that had been parked across the street. Was it connected? Had you been watched?

You set the necklace back in the box, hands trembling. The beauty of the gift now seemed tainted by the sinister implications. Your friend's warnings echoed in your mind: *“I am not going to die because of your bad decisions!”* You couldn’t ignore the danger any longer.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your friend’s number. She answered on the third ring, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Hey, it’s me. You were right. We need to talk.”

Later that day, your friend arrived, her face a mix of concern and frustration. You showed her the necklace, and she gasped.

“This is... gorgeous. But it’s also terrifying. How did he send this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t know how he found my address.”

She paced the room, glancing nervously out the window. “We need to call the police. This is beyond creepy.”

You nodded, knowing she was right. The thrill of your pen pal had turned into something dangerous, something that required more than just caution. As you picked up the phone to dial the authorities, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, the sense of being watched. The beautiful necklace now felt like a heavy weight, a symbol of the peril you had unwittingly invited into your life.

As you waited for the police to arrive, you couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had written such kind letters. Was he truly as dangerous as they said, or was there more to the story? Either way, you knew you couldn’t continue the correspondence. The price of your curiosity had become too high, and your safety was worth far more than any thrill or beautiful gift.

A few weeks had passed, and your friend continued to stay with her boyfriend, feeling guilty for leaving you alone but too scared to return. She called you every day, ensuring you were unharmed and feeling as well as could be expected. The police had stationed an officer outside your house during those weeks, but with no further incidents, they eventually recalled the officer. They advised you to call if anything came up, assuring you they would do their best to keep you safe. You had downplayed the threat, omitting any mention of your pen pal. Had they known the full extent, they might have placed you under witness protection.

Unfortunately, the eerie calm was shattered today.

The grey car had returned, and this time, you could make out the driver. He bore a stark resemblance to the picture you had seen of your pen pal, the world’s most dangerous criminal, now sitting outside your home, watching and waiting. But for what? What did he plan to do once you were alone?

You couldn't call out from work again, needing to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Steeling yourself, you put on your best intimidating face and walked to your car, though you felt more like a deer caught in headlights. Ignoring the piercing, watchful eyes of the man was harder than you imagined, but you managed to get into your car and drive away.

You knew it was foolish to drive to work, thinking he might follow you, but if he knew your address, he likely knew where you worked. At least at work, you'd be surrounded by people and security personnel. If he tried anything—which you doubted he would in such a public setting—there would be help nearby.

The day dragged on, dread gnawing at you. Your focus was shattered, and your supervisor almost reprimanded you until they realized how shaken you were. They backed off, giving you space to regain your composure. HR knew something was seriously wrong but couldn’t disclose details to anyone else, offering you a temporary reprieve.

But this day was particularly harrowing, and you barely made it through. As the workday ended, you practically sprinted to your car, seeking the relative safety it offered while there were still people around.

Home was a different story.

You entered, not realizing the door had been unlocked until you were already in the living room. Shock, dread, and fear flooded you as you saw him there, seated on your sofa.

He was casually examining a picture of you with your friend, family, and your old pet. He looked content, as if he belonged there, as if he were truly at home.

Panic surged. You wondered what he could do to you in such close quarters. Thick walls muted sounds from neighboring homes; no one would hear you in time. You felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do if he made a move.

He shifted his position, dropping one leg and crossing the other, all the while holding your gaze. He took in your presence, the real you, not just the image he had studied. You were no longer a picture, but flesh and blood, standing before him.

“Nice to meet you, [Your Name].”

You had never told him your real name, only an alias. Somehow, he had discovered your true identity, just as he had found your address.

“I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I couldn’t resist, especially after a month of silence from you. I noticed you called the police. I'm quite impressed that you managed to keep my presence in your life a secret.”

You trembled, tears starting to well in your eyes and trickle down your face.

“Ah, don’t cry. I’m not here to harm you. What I have in mind will be much more pleasurable. For both of us.”

His words chilled you to the core. The beauty of the necklace, the allure of his letters, all seemed like a distant dream compared to the present reality. You stood frozen, unable to move or speak, as he smiled at you, his intentions shrouded in menace and mystery.

“I-I…” 

The tears began to slow, your breath evening out as a semblance of calm started to return. He watched you closely, giving you a moment to dry your face and find the words that had eluded you. 

But silence persisted. Your thoughts were in disarray, still grappling with the reality of his sudden presence. He seemed to sense your inner turmoil, knowing you needed time to process the situation. As he approached, his imposing figure loomed over you, each step bringing him closer.

Realizing his intent, you instinctively retreated, but his long strides easily closed the distance. Your back met the cold, unyielding wall, trapping you. You wished you could tear it down, burrow into an indestructible sanctuary, and escape the nightmare your life had become. 

His proximity was overwhelming, a blend of menace and fascination, as you stood frozen, unable to tear your gaze from his. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, a storm of emotions threatening to consume you both.

He continued to close the distance, his presence suffocating yet electrifying. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he drew nearer, until he was mere inches away. He raised his arms, placing his hands on the wall on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. The scent of him, a mix of cologne and something distinctly male, enveloped you.

"Is this what you like?" he asked, his voice a low, tantalizing murmur. His eyes bored into yours, searching for a reaction.

Your breath hitched, the proximity overwhelming your senses. The thrill of fear and an unexpected surge of excitement coursed through you, leaving you dizzy and unable to respond.

"Tell me," he continued, leaning in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you've been waiting for?"

The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his breath, and the sheer force of his presence made it hard to think, let alone speak. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, your mind a chaotic mix of fear, confusion, and a strange, unwelcome attraction. His dominance was intoxicating, leaving you both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

His hands remained on the wall, trapping you, as his eyes continued to hold yours captive. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with unspoken tension. In that moment, you realized you were at his mercy, and the realization sent a shiver down your spine.

The intensity in his gaze didn't waver as he spoke again, his voice a silken whisper. "Why don't you show me around? I'd like to see more of your home."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, feeling compelled to comply. Slowly, he dropped his hands from the wall, giving you a semblance of freedom, though his presence still dominated the space. He gestured for you to lead the way.

With trembling steps, you walked towards the staircase, feeling his eyes on you, a constant reminder of the danger and allure he embodied. The transition from the living room to the upper floor was surreal, the normalcy of your home tainted by his dark presence. Each step up the stairs felt like a journey deeper into an inescapable labyrinth.

You reached the top of the stairs and paused, glancing back at him. His expression was unreadable, but a faint, almost predatory smile played at his lips. You hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door to your bedroom.

"This is my room," you said softly, stepping inside.

He followed, his tall frame filling the doorway before he moved to the center of the room. He looked around, taking in every detail. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Show me more," he instructed, his voice firm yet oddly gentle.

You led him to the adjoining bathroom, your hands trembling as you opened the door. The bathroom was small but neat, the shower glistening under the overhead light. He inspected it briefly, then turned back to you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"This will do nicely," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

Your mind raced, the reality of the situation pressing down on you. "What do you want from me?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "For now, just your cooperation. Tonight is just the beginning. After the night's activities, I might need a place to clean up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. The ambiguity of "activities" left your mind reeling with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. You found yourself nodding, unable to do anything else.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand lingering on your cheek. "Now, let's make the most of our evening together."

His touch was both reassuring and sinister, a stark reminder of the control he wielded over you. “Take this off…”

You were shocked, appalled even, at such a request from a man you barely knew, despite the intimacy of his letters, the truths he shared, his truth. 

You hesitated, glancing up at him with a mix of trepidation and a spark of rebellion. 

He smirked slightly, as if he had anticipated your resistance. His hand reached out, but you scurried backward, clutching onto what felt like the last vestiges of your dignity. 

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, not from someone who had shown him such genuine kindness, such unguarded affection for the first time in decades.

It dawned on you just how monumental a mistake that kindness had been.

As you stood there, frozen in your shock, he moved swiftly. In an instant, he had closed the distance between you, his strong hands seizing your blouse. The fabric bunched under his grip, the force of his hold sending a jolt through you.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “You and I both know this was inevitable.”

His words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the palpable tension that seemed to throb between you. His touch, firm and unyielding, ignited a tumult of emotions within you—fear, defiance, and a disturbing undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite name.

“You think you can just come into my life and—” your voice faltered, the defiance wavering under the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t think, I know,” he interrupted, his tone commanding and confident. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours. “You invited me in with every letter, every secret you shared. This connection we have—it’s real. And now, it’s time to face it.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer, the proximity making your heart race. The air between you crackled with an undeniable energy, a mix of danger and an inexplicable pull that left you both terrified and entranced.

“You’ve got me all wrong,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice.

“No,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the reality of your situation crashing over you. The walls of your sanctuary seemed to close in, the room shrinking as his presence dominated. You were caught in his web, and the more you struggled, the more entangled you became.

With a final, firm tug, he brought you even closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s see how this night unfolds,” he murmured, a promise and a threat woven into his words.

In that moment, you realized there was no escape. You were his, for better or worse, and the night was just beginning.

His deft hands worked quickly, yet with a surprising gentleness, as he pulled at your blouse. He was careful, mindful of not tearing buttons or threads, his touch respectful in its slow haste to undress you. Each movement seemed deliberate, as if he were savoring the unveiling of your skin, as if he knew the value of each delicate inch.

Once your clothing lay discarded, you stood before him in just your bralette and panties, exposed yet somehow still veiled in mystery. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of a woman—a vision of beauty that left him breathless. He drank in every curve, every line, every delicate feature, his gaze lingering on each detail as if committing them to memory.

He had seen countless women in his lifetime, but none had captivated him quite like you. There was something about you, something ineffable and intoxicating, that drew him in, leaving him hungry for more.

In that moment, as you stood there before him, vulnerable yet unyielding, he realized just how much he craved you. And he knew, with a certainty that bordered on obsession, that he would stop at nothing to possess you completely.

You knew that begging would likely be futile, so you chose silence instead, allowing your gaze to wander anywhere but at him and what he was doing. But he seemed to revel in being watched, his ego swelling as he unveiled each layer of your clothing.

His touch was insistent as his index finger and thumb grasped your chin, forcing your gaze to remain solely on him. You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, but it was quickly quelled by the intensity of his gaze.

With practiced ease, he removed your bra, followed by your panties. The air between you crackled with tension as he exposed you completely, and you couldn't help but feel exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

A low groan escaped him, barely audible but unmistakable. It was a sound of longing, of desire unleashed after years of confinement. You realized then just how long it had been since he had seen a living, breathing woman, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You stood there, naked and exposed, feeling his eyes on you like a physical touch. There was something primal in the way he looked at you, as though he were seeing you for the first time, drinking in every curve and contour of your body.

You tried to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was difficult under his relentless gaze. You felt stripped bare, not just of your clothing but of your defenses, your vulnerabilities laid bare before him.

As he stepped closer, the heat of his body enveloping you, you knew that there was no turning back. The night stretched out before you, a vast unknown filled with equal parts fear and fascination. And as he reached out to pull you closer, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises lay in store.

Your cheek pressed into the cold, quartz floor of your bathroom, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You could feel the weight of him behind you, his eyes drinking in the sight of your rear pressing against his hips. His blazer, shirt, and pants had been discarded, leaving him in just his boxers. Despite the fabric that still separated your bodies, you felt everything from him—his warmth, his strength, his desire.

He had positioned you in a neat arch, your body stretched taut, every muscle straining against the confines of your own submission. His command was clear: remain still, hold that position until he was ready to take you further.

You obeyed, every fiber of your being thrumming with anticipation and fear. The cold floor beneath you was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him, and the sensation only heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath that brushed against your skin.

Time seemed to stand still as you waited, your body poised on the precipice of something unknown. You could hear the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat, a counterpoint to the electric tension that hung heavy in the air.

And then, without warning, his hands were on you, tracing the contours of your body with a touch that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers were skilled, mapping every curve and dip with a precision that left you breathless.

You felt him shift behind you, his body moving with a fluid grace that belied the strength coiled beneath his skin. You were afraid of the movement, wanting to look behind you to see what exactly he was doing. And when you felt the tip of him nearing your heat, you redacted the beautiful arch he helped you to create for him and tried to squirm away.

Before you knew it, he had your hair twisted in his hand, pressing your head painfully further against the floor, his breath fanning over your ear. “Move again… and I will crack your skull over this floor and with this treasure I’ll summon something worse than death for you.”

And then, with a suddenness that stole your breath away, he entered you, filling you completely with a single, powerful thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of pleasure and pain that threatened to consume you. You bit back a gasp, your body trembling with the effort to remain still as he took you further, deeper into the abyss of his desire. He was much too large to enjoy, your stretched muscles struggling to comprehend the intrusion.

And as he moved within you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of oblivion, you realized that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, caught in the grip of a passion that threatened to consume you both. And in that moment, as he claimed you as his own, you surrendered to the darkness that beckoned, knowing that there was no escape from the depths of his desire.

By the time he was finished, you had orgasmed nearly six times. The final was barely an orgasm, he had edged you and slapped your ass. Breathy laughs finding your ears and somehow you felt yourself able to share his laughter. Your cunt clenched against his twitching length, a feeling he relished in.

Just when you thought he was finished, he pushed your legs apart as far as they would go, nearly into a split, pressing himself further into you, impossibly deeper. Your eyes bulged, hips tightened and your cunt contracted against his deep-seated length once more, your cervix contracting and relaxing in slow bouts against his tip. He lifted your hips, allowing him a new arch, fresh angle, and an even deeper reach. 

You wanted to sob, to beg him to stop, but you also wanted to see what he would do in this position. 

He reached one hand in front, taking your neck into his possession and he pulled back just enough to keep you stationary and choke you slightly at the same time, the angle would do the rest. 

And slowly, he pulled back, allowing just the tip to remain before he thrusts intensely inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew would drive you insane. 

And you cursed him, screaming out all sorts of obscenities and lewd things as he continued to abuse the same spot. His girth squeezed in and out of you with much effort, the tightened feel of your cunt in this position was the one thing that kept him grounded, eyes drawn into a focus on your connected bodies. 

He had cum so many times and this position had him dangerously close to blowing his load again, but he held back just enough. He wanted to cum with you again.

Increasing his speed, he pushed and pulled inside your pussy, watching as it sucked him and pushed him out simultaneously. 

“S’kunaaaa… Fuuuccckkk! Pl-please!”

He knew what you were begging for, screaming out his name for. And he was so close to giving it to you. He had to give you what you wanted since you had been so obedient for him all night. He was nearing his end, bringing his free hand down to your clit and rubbing dangerous circles and odd shapes into it, nearly ritualistic in his methods and just he groaned his approval, you squirted. Full-body quakes erupting, your eyes rolling back into your head. Anyone watching the scene would have thought you were having a seizure. 

But Sukuna knew. And you knew.

It was simply nirvana.

[iwasntstable]

✧₊⁺ 𝗡.𝗦. | 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗜 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨

| WORD COUNT: 1.4k | RATING: SFW | CONTENT TAGS: fluff | The things you do when you're missing Noah while he's away.

➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

NOTE: Enjoy this little fluff piece to make up for the angst I posted 2 days ago 🖤

Noah has been gone for 2 weeks now. You text and call throughout the day, every day—when he has time. Preparations for their upcoming projects, music video filming, and meeting after meeting to discuss the business side of things take up all of his time. He always works hard, but this was another level that you weren’t used to.

You’ve never been one to yearn particularly hard after a partner, missing them a normal, regular amount, then feeling fulfilled when you reunite after a couple of days. But with Noah, it was different. When you parted, it felt like half of you was missing. Your place was too quiet when he wasn't around. You didn't live in a particularly big place, but it seems vast and empty now that you're alone. Even though the gaping hole his absence left in your life is indisputable, you try to carry on as best as you can.

But even while doing the most mundane tasks, your thoughts are preoccupied with Noah. Wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck, embracing you tightly from behind as you make a sandwich. Your personal space is as much his as it is yours.

“What are you doing?” You giggle, trying your best to assemble the food with his towering frame clinging to you.

“Just wanna cuddle you,” he mumbles into your neck. Your cheeks grow warm, turning as best you can in his hold to look at him over your shoulder.

But when you look, he’s not there. The hum of the fridge and the chill in the evening air are your only companions. The kitchen is too big without him clinging to your back and the smile brought to your face by the memory drops. With a dejected sigh, you place the last piece of bread on top, finishing your little meal and retreating to the living room.

Picking at the bread, you scour your streaming options for something to watch, seeing shows and movies you’re interested in, but just don’t feel in the mood to watch right now. You add them to your ‘Watch Later...’ list and keep searching.

In the “Continue Watching...” section, the show with way too many seasons you were working your way through is first in line. The preview reminds you where you left off, and you get the urge to hit play, but you were watching this with Noah. He sits forward, yelling at the screen for the characters to, “no! Don’t do that! Oh my God… It’s like they want to die!” Looking bewildered in your direction.

You can’t stifle the laugh, prompting him to hit you playfully with one of the couch cushions.

“What?!” he exclaims, his eyes bright and smiling wide, his hands speaking for him. “Why would you walk in the direction of the bomb? Is she stupid?!”

"No, you’re right,” you clutch your abdomen, the beginnings of an ache in your side from laughing so hard. “I know she’s the main character, but why is she so unlikable? Oh my God…” You let out a long breath, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

Blinking rapidly to rid them of the burn, you play Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Abandoning both the movie and the sandwich half finished when the weight in your chest becomes too heavy.

You don’t even bother to clean up, going straight to your room and crawling under the covers. Attempting to seek comfort in the sheets. But the other side of the bed is too empty and smells too much like him. You reach out, laying your hand on the pillow where he should be. Running your hand through his hair, his drowsy eyes close, a content smile on his lips as he enjoys your affections.

“I love you,” he says quietly, turning his cheek into your palm.

A tear escapes your eye. “I miss you,” you whisper to the space beside you.

You can’t sleep. You haven’t been able to sleep properly for a while now. Only 2 weeks he’s been away, and he’ll be back in just a few days time. You never thought you’d find yourself yearning like this, but the ache in your heart won’t subside, and your usual distractions are failing you. So you decide to indulge in your sadness. 

Taking your laptop from where you left it on the floor, you pull up Spotify. Gravitating immediately to the Bad Omens artist page and hitting play on the The Death of Peace of Mind album. Closing your eyes as soon as his voice comes through the speakers, the soft tone of his singing at the beginning of Concrete Jungle. You push all of the loud thoughts from your mind, focussing only on him. It helps. The tracks trick your brain into thinking he’s here with you. Taking his pillow and holding it to your chest, you allow yourself to be enveloped by the sound and scent of him. You don’t even notice when you start to drift off to sleep. If he couldn’t physically be here to bring you peace of mind, at least his voice could.

When Noah unlocks your door, he’s surprised to see the TV off, a half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table, and you absent from your usual spot on the couch. It was late, but you’re a night owl; it's out of character for you to sleep so early. He re-locks the door behind him and moves quietly through the room, toeing off his shoes and leaving them next to yours. Deciding too, to place his bags down by the door. He didn’t want to knock anything over and wake you if you really were asleep.

He hears the music before he opens the door, the pang of recognition becoming clearer when he cracks it open, and sees your sleeping form in the bed. Your laptop sitting open on his side of the bed, Just Pretend filling the silence of the room. Noah can’t help but smile, his socked feet soundlessly closing the distance between him and the bed where he sits carefully beside you.

Watching you sleep for a moment, his heart feels full at this image of you. Smiling at the sight, he slips his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, opening the camera app and double-checking that the flash isn’t on. He snaps a couple of pictures, grinning as he does so. The laptop is visible over your shoulder, clearly showing his album open and playing on Spotify. He places his phone down next to yours on the bedside table and lays a hand gently on your shoulder. He’s reluctant to pull you from your sleep, but he needs you. And it’s clear that you need him too.

“Babe,” he whispers, his palm smoothing over your shoulder. He leans in closer, calling your name just a little louder and shaking you gently.

You begin to stir. Dreaming of Noah being where he belongs by your side in bed. Your head rests against his chest as he caresses your arm gently.

“Wake up,” he says softly, and your eyes crack open. Squinting against the sunlight. “Wake up, baby.”

He’s singing too. “Weigh down on me, stay ‘til morning, weigh down…”

“Hey,” he says softly, “what’re you doing?”

“Noah?” You mumble, realising the light in your eyes was your laptop, and it was as though you could hear two of him.

“Hi, I’m here. We wrapped up early, I tried to call you,” he brushes your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

You roll onto your back, and there he is. Hair fluffy, holding a slight wave, and an infectious grin across his face as he looks at you. He looks so soft and warm in his hoodie, and you just want to dive into his arms. So you do, sitting up to collapse into him. He pulls you onto his lap, rocking you side to side, holding you so fiercely it was as though he were trying to make up for every second you'd been separated. You hold on just as tightly, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours.

“Let me turn this off,” he moves carefully, loosening his grip temporarily to hit the spacebar and silence his own voice, then holding you tight again. “You don’t need that now that I’m back.”

“I missed you,” your voice comes muffled against his chest, wavering as you desperately try not to break down.

“I missed you too, so much,” he sighs, sinking into you deeper. “But I’m back now, and I have no plans to go anywhere any time soon.”

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[chuubacca-writes]

A/N - Thank you so much for being my first request! I hope this is too your liking!

Pairing - Sebastian x GN!Farmer

Summary - Sebastian realizes he is falling in love with the new farmer that just moved into the valley.

Warnings - Mentions of smoking/cigarettes (cuz its Seb)

Word Count - 495

At first, Sebastian didn’t think much of the news that there was a new farmer moving into the valley. He just assumed he would never see them since he spent most of his time holed up in front of his computer.

Until fate struck one rainy day. he had emerged from the basement to get a snack from the kitchen. The farmer came in to visit Robin, their rain boots clunking against the wood of the floor, leaving small puddles with every step, rain dripping from the brim of their hat. Sebastian couldn’t look away when the farmer shot him a smile and a small wave before going back to their business with Robin.

Ever since then, Seb hoped he would ‘accidentally’ run into the farmer more often.

“What’s with that face?” Sam asked him one day as they stood in their usual hang out spot under the tree.

Sebastian took a drag from his cigarette, raising an eyebrow. “What face?”

“The one you made when the farmer walked by just now.” Sam smirked.

Sebastion rolled his eyes, turning away so that his friend couldn’t see the light flush of pink on his cheeks.

It didn’t get better as time went on. Every time the farmer waved at him while he was working on his motorcycle in the garage, pickaxe on their shoulder and a smile on their face. Every time he saw them collecting shells iat the beach or fishing in the mountains. Every time he saw the farmer, it only made the fuzzy feeling stronger.

“What is happening to me?” Sebastian finally asked Sam and Abagail.

“It sounds like you have a little crush.” Abagail said with a smug smile.

“Aww, our little brooding tough guy has a crush on the farmer!” Sam teased, making Sebastian’s cheeks turn pink.

“Shut up, i don’t have a crush.”

But it got harder and harder to believe that when Sebastian spent every waking moment thinking about the farmer.

“What are you smiling about?” Robin asked after the farmer left the carpenter’s shop. Sebastian quickly wiped the dopey grin off his face, retreating back to his basement refuge. 

He finally realized how absolutely down bad he was for the farmer when he caught them searching for shells on the beach in the heavy rain. Their overalls were drenched and their boots were full of water. He could hear the familiar clunk of their boots when they came up to greet him on the dock. That stupidly perfect smile on their face as if they were’t soaked from head to toe in cold rainwater.

The way their face lit up when he offered his umbrella, it made his heart flutter in his chest. When they shuffled closer to fit under the small canopy, mumbling a soft apology when they brushed against his jacket sleeve.

“I’m usually anxious around people.” he admitted.

‘But i find myself wanting to be around you more and more.’ was his heart’s unspoken confession.

[animasola86]

SMUT DRABBLES*: Car Inspection

A/N: Yet another little smut scene, *no longer a drabble (Drabble? Who's she?), but still short. Like with my other drabbles, you can imagine any character you want here, it's usually just a man and a woman having a good time. Today I give you oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex and creampies. And cars (so think up an AU where it works, if you will).

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! // WORDS: 1.3k // AO3

“Lemme take a look under the hood, miss,” he's said, and now she's sitting on the warm metal, gripping his broad shoulders, legs held open by strong hands, while he has his head buried under her skirt.

His tongue is as hot as the sun batting down on them, licking through her folds with fervor and certainty, expert motions, warm lips, teasing teeth, kissing, sucking, nibbling, pulling her sensitive skin into his mouth, nose rubbing against her clit.

He's lapping at her like a man starved, the slurping and squelching noises mixing with the chirp of cicadas, the subtle squeak of the car beneath her, her own rapid breaths. He's good, knows what to do, where to look and lick. She's come to the right place.

Her skirt obstructs the view, but she's still on display, writhing and squirming, bare feet squeaking over the metal hood in an attempt to anchor herself. He's ruthless in his assault, focusing now fully on that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue around it, laving it, sucking on it.

She's losing it, her head spinning, it's too hot, the air is stale and dry, and her lungs are protesting. The tension in her belly is like a burning thing, growing and expanding, filling her out like she wishes he would fill her out.

He groans into her, the sound vibrating through her clenching cunt. His hands move, one big palm pressed to her stomach, forcing her down on her back, the other slipping under the tent of her skirt as well. He's teasing her, nibbling on her clit while his fingers slide through her slick before they take a dip into her heat, plunging deep, two at once, pushing in and out, scissoring inside her, stretching, massaging, curling against that sweet spot.

She arches her back, shoulders pressed into the hood, cries out, thighs trembling around his shoulders, her own shaking hand gripping at his wrist, nails sinking into his skin before he slips his long fingers between hers, holding her hand, heavy on her stomach. He pumps his other digits into her, licks her clit, the tension explodes within her. Their joined hands hold her down when she convulses, jerks her hips against his face and fingers, shivering under the hot sun.

He licks up every drop with broad strokes of his tongue, his fingers moving slower, bringing her down gently before they retreat, gripping her twitching thigh, warm and slick and strong, while he pushes his mouth to her lower lips, kisses her deeply, tongue pressing into her quivering hole.

She wails again, quietly in the open space, her voice drowned by the screeching insects trying to be louder.

He's shifting, emerging from under her skirt, nose and lips and chin glistening in her juices, hair messy, face flushed. She's also red in the face, panting, trying to avoid those hungry eyes. His hands find her warm cheeks when he straightens up, towering over her.

His kiss tastes tangy, salty, sweet, all at once and more, her own taste on his tongue as he claims her mouth. She moans into it, clinging to his bare back, sweat slick and strong, muscles flexing beneath sun touched skin. He pushes her up the hood of the car, his hips between her shaking legs, pinning her down, skirt flipped up entirely now. His body is blocking the view, she couldn't care less who sees her.

With his tongue wrestling hers, he grips her waist, one hand disappearing between them, the clink of a belt, the whirring scrape of a zipper, a little groan when he grips his cock and guides it to her dripping cunt. She moans into his mouth, fingernails sinking into his skin while he sinks into her, small frantic rolls of his hips as he slowly fucks her open, stretches her, fills her, in and out, inch by inch until he's bottomed out.

His hands on her hips pull her into him, closer, deeper, her legs spasm against him before she hooks them around his thick thighs. Muscles flex under denim, his grip rough as he starts pulling out to slam back in, over and over again, his grunts as loud as her moans, the kiss messy and breathless.

She's lightheaded, sun-burnt, a sweaty mess in his strong grip, her hands gripping at his waist, leaving angry crescent-shaped marks as she squirms against him, trying to meet his thrusts.

He leans back, leaving her tingling lips, presses his forehead to hers, eyes staring into her soul, warm and dark and mesmerizing, hungry, breaths hot and dizzying, mingling. His hips slam into her slower, deeper, setting an excruciating rhythm, taunting, teasing, slow and steady while they're both burning under the sun, the heat inside her belly almost as unbearable.

She's whimpering, grinding her pelvis into him, digs her heels into his lower back, eyes pleading. The smirk on his lips makes her angry, growling through her gritted teeth. His hands tighten around her hips, fingers bruising, and when he leans back fully, a barely there shadow falling onto her shaking body, looking down at her, he stops moving altogether, cock hard and swollen inside her clenching cunt.

She wants to protest, whine, beg, but he only looks at her, tilting his head, before he slowly moves back, cockhead scraping against her tight walls, before he slams back in with a force that makes her yelp, flinch, cry out, as he hits her deepest spot, tip squished against her cervix.

The pain is there, sharp, short, dissipating slowly before it's back, dragging retreat, the hint of reprieve, then another deep stab, hard, fast, agonizing. Again and again, until he grows impatient and just hammers into her, her moans and cries broken up, voice strained, helpless, as his cock pistons in and out, rough and unrelenting, and all she can do is take it.

He grunts, sweat running down his temple, a fine sheen on his bare torso, muscles flexing, his teeth bared and gritted, hands digging into her soft skin. Pull, push, stab. Pull, push, stab. Her own sweat mixes with tears, her cries soundless little puffs of air, her head filled with vertigo and bliss, pain and pleasure. One big hand splayed on her hip, the other moving between them, thumb pressing hard against her clit, and she yelps again, and again, coming hard around his pounding cock, juices coating his length, squelching out with every deep slam.

The car is rocking beneath them, suspension squeaking, needs to be oiled. She's come to the right place. Come at the right place. Over and over again until she's a boneless mess, lying on the hood of her car, arms splayed out beside her, sweaty palms squeaking over metal with every deep thrust, body moved up and down, insides convulsing, muscles contracting, tight around his thick cock. He grunts, groans, huffs, head red under the sun, under the exertion, working overtime.

He comes with a low growl, animalistic, body twitching against her, burying himself deep within her clenching heat, balls tightening, cock spasming, filling her with his hot seed, spurt after burning spurt. She gasps when his hand pushes on her stomach, before he slowly pulls out, panting, eyes glued to her reddened pussy, watching intently, an expert's eye, head tilted, then he slaps his hand on her folds, making her wince.

She's pulled onto her feet, barely able to think, to function, dizzy from the sun and the special service. He lifts her feet, one at a time, puts her panties back on, slides them up her shaking legs. His cum drips down her inner thigh, slowly, slow enough for him to gather it on his finger and push it back up, between her glistening folds, back into her clenching hole. She moans at the sensation, gripping his arm for support. He keeps his finger in her while he pulls her underwear back in place, pumping it slowly before removing it, gently dragging his wet fingertip between her covered folds, trapping his seed.

“I believe there's been a leak, miss,” he says, fixing her skirt, making her presentable again as he looks at her with a proud smile, having found the problem, while she looks up at him with a soft giggle, feeling their combined juices drenching the fabric between her trembling thighs.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

MORE SMUT DRABBLES:

A steamy shower

Toy

Sleepy

Tension Relief

[tinycozycomfort]

some quiet evenings

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: If he wasn’t so far away all the time, working and worrying and wracked with undeserving guilt, you’d disassemble him completely—down to the fucking marrow.

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, sub!mike, the tone? they're in love, underwear play, c*ck grinding, finger sucking, pet names (baby, honey, etc), the socks stay on, criminally gratuitous descriptions of how good-looking this man is

word count: 2k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: huge thank you to @cupofjoel for these amazing fics that were a direct contributor to me watching the movie (and then subsequently falling into a lore hole) and to @pascalisbaby for listening to me fumble my way through this!!

main masterlist

Mike is always tired when he gets home. 

Tired like the weight of his body is too much to bear, eyes wet and just-open like a seam that’s freshly split. He hangs at the end of his own rope, slumped on the line of his spine, damp across his brow as he sits and undresses at the corner of the bed. 

You don’t question him when he says it’s nothing, when he mumbles something about work being a lot of pressure and just needing to make it through the end of the week. For something so mundane—watching unwanted property—it seems off; still you kneel at his back to help him shrug off the lip of his vest and hoodie and creased t-shirt with nothing more than a sigh.

“Didn’t mean to put this on you. I know you work as much as I do—more, even,” his head lolls down towards his lap, fingers sweeping his face as he shrinks with guilt, “I just need to figure out some money for another babysitter so I can actually sleep and you can actually see me and—” 

“It’s okay. Don’t know how many times I’ll have to tell you before you believe me.” 

He works at the clasp of his pants before you can—another thing he feels the need to take responsibility for, right now—bending at the waist enough to pool them at his ankles, socked feet tapping the ground inside their halos. Nervous, like always, high-strung and erratic for reasons you can’t begin to pull out of him. 

“And everything with Abby, she just… I worry about her.” 

“She’s asleep down the hall. Got her to eat and everything. You need to worry about yourself, too, y’know.” You widen your thighs, straddling the base of his hips, left hand curling to cradle the strip of skin between his shoulder and neck. He’s warm there, too, tacky and tense when you tuck your pointer up against his jaw. “Look at me, Mike.” 

He refuses at first, pushing back against your guidance, reserve strong in the face of shame.

In return, you press harder into him, doubling down, dimpling the underside of his chin in an effort to halt his retreat.

“No,” he whispers, insistent. 

Something hot swirls in the core of your spine at his defiance, as small as it is loud, the corner of your lip tugging up in response. He can’t see you, hiding like this, but it’s like he can feel it, knocking a shoulder up to shield himself even more. 

He likes this game, you’ve realized—where you let him have his fit just to reel him back in, to prove to him he’s wrong. That special kind of attention to detail—the laborious care of taking the time to peel back his doubts to get to the tender meat of his heart, just to string up your favorite pieces of him as you go. Declarations is maybe the most correct way to put it; he likes to earn the kind of love he can hang on the fridge.

You lean in behind him, cheek brushing the hair at his temple, and his guise falters, body unfurling on instinct. What a sweet man he is, naked save for the rings of fabric on and at his feet, the thin veil of his boxers—the latter failing to hide his own interest. Opening for you like he needs to.

You drag your nose across his lobe, the flesh there raising in little welts, “You do know how much I worry about you, right? How much I want you to relax? Don’t you want that, too?” 

He swallows hard, wrist twisting in his lap—restraint, you think, or warning; Mike, ever-courteous, letting you know he’s reached his threshold, fizzing over the top. 

“What do you think I could do to make you feel better, honey?” You run the bend of your free hand along his inner thigh, chest flush to his back so you can reach the fold of his knee. 

Mike shudders, short puffs of air jutting out of his open mouth. The grip you have on his neck tilts, wrapping your thumb over the knob of his jaw, longer fingers spreading out so you can curve one between his lips. He licks at it, tongue soft where he sucks you in, skipping the gentle work-up to get to his favorite part—more tired than you thought, then.

“I don’t want to have to choose for you, but I will.” You rub the inside of his cheek like you can coax the words out, “C’mon.” 

“You could—I want, fuck. I want to be inside you.” 

The papery t-shirt clinging to your back stretches, looped material around your hips tacked down by the trickle of slick that seeps out at his words. You were ready for bed when he arrived,  more thankful than ever to have nothing else between you and his body, now that he’s ready for something else.

You drag your wandering hand across where he’s straining, hot and heavy, his only reaction a gentle tug of teeth on your knuckle, a too-deep inhale that inflates his chest. Mike’s hands sit limp where they’re glued to his thighs, waiting patiently for your next instruction, seeing if you’ve decided to grant him his request. 

It’s not until you wedge your hand free to toy at the waistband of his boxers that he sets into motion, raising off the sheets and letting you strip him of his last shred of modesty, just the slouched cuffs of his socks left clinging to him.

His cock is hard—angry—coming down on his stomach with a dull thud, a sticky pull of precome following in its wake. The muscle under his torso jumps at the impact like he forgot it was even there, too focused on what’s coming next, sold on the prospect of something better. 

You guide a leg down the slope of the bed, planting yourself on the floor by his side. He takes the hint, pushing himself higher up on the sheets and resting his weight on the flat of his elbows behind him, quick to obey.

You take your time climbing along him, bracketing him from the front this time so you can take in the full image of his want. He’s flushed across his cheeks, his neck—even the little reliefs in the skin under his eyes are touched by pink. Lips shining, hair clumped with wet at the root—he’s the kind of beautiful he doesn’t even know he’s capable of, sleepy and misty and shaky when you run your fingers against his jaw—still damp from his own mouth—marveling at the rounded edges that find their way in his angular face. 

If he wasn’t so far away all the time, working and worrying and wracked with undeserving guilt, you’d disassemble him completely—down to the fucking marrow. Clip him off at every joint just to piece him back together. 

“Pretty,” you mumble, mostly to yourself, but you know he hears it when he preens, eyes fluttering and chest squeezing tight in a long exhale.

You loop a thumb through the center of your underwear, swinging it out to fit his cock in with you, settling into his lap more firmly so that the split of your cunt presses against him. He’s trapped there, between your heat and his belly, the whine that slips out of him involuntary but solid. 

When you start to move, working up a rhythm, he spits out something like fuck, fuck yes and you nod to feign understanding.

“Oh, is this what you meant? You wanted to be inside here?” You rock into his hips with purpose, the thick shape of him rubbing at your clit like it’s all he was made for, like being inside you wouldn’t even be an idea if he couldn’t take care of you in every other way first. 

“No.” 

“First yes, now no? You have to make your mind up, baby. You’re not giving me enough to work with, here.”

“Yes. This is–yes.” 

He starts to meet you halfway without thinking, grinding up into the cradle of your body in search of a better way to communicate than words. 

“So you don’t want to fuck me?” 

Mike whines at that, the breakout of red reaching the very edges of his face, bleeding down into his collarbones. He regains some sense of his own body, then, hands fumbling up until they slot above the crease of your thigh, rubbing firmly at your hip bones. Pleading.

You tuck your knees into his side to help him along, ribs stinging where your efforts begin to hurt, happy anyway to push him closer to the edge. A thick lick of heat rises in your chest, the seat of your pelvis, flaring white when you watch him fight for something to say.

“I do—I did, I just. This is perfect. You’re perfect.” He’s panting in between each word, pressing himself to you to punctuate his point, “I’m going to come just like this, if you’ll let me.” 

It’s not so spelled out, but he is asking for permission—as he always does—and it sounds like an apology more than anything else. For being selfish, you know he’ll say; for taking his pleasure exactly like you’d asked him to.

You swipe at the curls that are starting to twist at the base of his neck, both for leverage so you can match his pace and to point out another facet of him that falls perfectly into your liking, the glide easier with how much you’ve coated him in that same favor. 

The hand you’d hooked into him earlier finds his lips again, slipping in with no resistance, passing harshly against his molars and tongue. 

Mike is eager to glean as much fondness as he can off the skin, closing his mouth and sucking fervently. 

“Go ahead, then. Said you needed to relax, didn’t I? We’ve got all morning.”

Something flashes in his eyes that reads horribly like but what about work?, as if now would be the time to worry over your schedule—as if anything could be more important than the way his cock swells in anticipation despite the thought. 

You redirect the anxiety, not wanting his orgasm to fall flat after all the convincing it took to lead him here, “You have all morning to make it up to me.”

His grip around your middle tightens, suffocatingly so, brows drawing tight, tilting his head so he can take in more of your fingers to slide his tongue against the underside of your palm as he comes in warm threads of slip. 

He makes a mess of your chests and the already soaked-through film of your underwear, legs shaking under you as he breathes his way down. 

You release yourself from him with a pop, squeezing lightly at his cheek as he cracks a meek smile. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, freshly shy like he hadn’t been aware of what just occurred, so inside his mind he’d left his body, “I didn’t mean to not be able to, um—” 

“Fuck me?” 

He’s fully glowing by now, this time because of the weight of your accusation, loosening a little only when he sees you grinning back at him. You lean in, pecking at the corner of his mouth to not interrupt his irregular breaths, allowing him just a moment of error before appealing to the side of him that rids him of his nerves, “Get to it, then, if you’re so worried about it.”

[mehiwilldoitlater]

He gently caressed their scattered skin, dry for their living condition and from the mud that had been spattered on them while they were dragged to the sentences of the seven.

The imposter was finally captured, and now the day of their execution has come.

As they were taken to their pyre, the seven archons observed in disgust the blasphemy of the creature that dared to impersonate the actual creator. But three, among those who wanted to claim their heads, felt a heavy doubt about this call for blood.

The Hydro and Dendro Archons looked at each other, knowing that something in them was so off. And, just behind Lady Furina, the Ludex watched, in horror, the scene in front of him.

That wasn't justice. Justice was something that needed to be used in order to create peace—to judge and punish the ones that harm others lives, the ones that have to keep everything in check.

They dragged that poor, marturated body over the stage,their hands grasping some hair from their caged throats. Their jailers didn't lose the opportunity to shove their feet on their already broken ribs, causing them to cough and gasp. That wasn't justice.

Days prior, Neuvilette studied the case, searching for everything that could justify the looming execution against someone who had impersonated the creator. And his efforts took him to nothing; the accused was attacked on the spot, but there wasn't any activity from their part.

They never professed to be the creator; the persecution started without an actual felony.

And now there they were, the former dragon in front of the soon-to-be dead imposter.

Why did he feel his heart clench at the vision of that human in that sorry state? He was the great judge of Fontaine; he wasn't supposed to feel sadness against someone like them, and yet...

Without even knowing it, he moved in their direction. Some believed that he was ready to strike something, to hurt them more like everyone else. Instead, followed by the crowd falling into silence, he kneeled in front of them, watching the creator in their eyes.

There were no eyes to watch—just two burning holes. They once admired the beauty of that world.

His gloved fingers reached for their cheeks, meeting only a trembling and sobbing mess. They retreat, fearing another sharp blow.

"Please..."

His voice was calm and gentle, which surprised them. How lovely did someone actually use that tone with them?

They kept trembling, but they didn't retreat again when he had the courage to stroke their faces. Was that agonizing torture really necessary? The face of a god was enough to justify the horrors of what they did to that human. In all the years of his work, Neuvilette has never felt such agony for someone who clearly faces unnecessary violence.

Did the archer really enjoy this? Did they actually feel such happiness terrorizing and violating someone who was clearly at their limit? For the first time in a century, Neuvilette felt his blood boiling.

"Why did you impersonate a god? ...Did you want to fool them in order to gain power?"

There wasn't any evidence reported in the document; the witness never actually stated that they ever did something against their law. He had nothing; now he wanted to hear it out.

No words; just a small whine came out of their lips. They wanted to say something, but they were too weak to even talk. Neuvilette came closer, trying to understand something, anything.

"It hurt... It hurt so much. Please."

He didn't need any more words.

////

"Ummm... I wonder what kind of interesting new show you're going to put us through, my dear Ludex!"

Furina's voice was chirpier than ever, clearly infatuated by the outcome of the last week.

Neuvilette decided to ignore her small talk; he had more important matters to attend to.

"By the way, you said that the other day our new guest had... spilled gold from their bandages?"

"Yes, I think that happened. I think I saw a few traces back at the executor, but I never investigated anything about it."

"Ummm..."

Silence fell again in the office, and the two occupants now wondered the same question.

What now?