#p; wings without butterflies

[august-ia]

"He-" August stopped his pacing, froze for a second, then crossed his arms, the image of the owlite's gaping eye sockets fresh on his mind again. It made his stomach turn. He swallowed thickly, trying to not feel sick. "I don't know if that's why he took them," he answered honestly, his voice far quieter, almost like he barely breathed the words out. He had a look on his face that bordered traumatised, a shiver running down his spine. He knew Uncle Gil was capable of a lot but this? This was unexpected, even from him. Or maybe August just hadn't seen the truth before.

"Do you think-" he honestly didn't even want to finish the sentence he'd just started, his knees feeling a little shaky, heart racing. "He could've taken the eyes because the bird wasn't cooperating," that's what he didn't want to say, didn't want to think about, but the thought was there. Steve was talking a lot and the fairy barely heard half of it, his mind still spinning from what he'd seen. How could he wipe that from his memory? How could he sleep tonight without seeing what he'd been face-to-face with just a little while ago?

His head picked up when he heard his name, something akin to a whine leaving his throat when he realised he'd been holding his breath. "I have no idea," he felt helpless all of a sudden, like he needed to do something but he wasn't even sure where to begin. "He's never disappeared like this before- I mean, he has disappeared. But not like this. Not like-" he looked at Steve with concern in his eyes, for who, he wasn't sure. His legs felt numb. He needed to sit before they gave in. "Maybe we could ask my family- do you think it'd help?"

Wings without butterflies ~ august & steve

[lovebugism]

Eddie x Gareths sisterrrrr????? Like Romeo and Juliet type stuff where Gareth is like my sister is NOT dating you

thanks so much for your request, anon!! i had so much fun writing it!! there isn't much conflict with gareth, but i hope you like it anyway! jealous!eddie x girly!reader (1.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Gareth picks you up from the mall at six o’clock sharp.

You say goodbye to your friends, all of them wearing the same tank top and pleated skirt duo you’re in, before getting into the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. You’re dressed too nicely to be sat in such a beaten-up thing. Too pretty for it, too.

“Wanna get something to eat?” the boy asks as he pulls out of the parking lot, talking over the Dio song blaring on the radio.

He’s wearing his usual flannel vest over a tattered Metallica tee. The former is riddled with various vintage pins fitting for a metalhead. Down to his skull necklace, ripped jeans, and dirty sneakers — the two of you couldn’t be more different.

You flip down the visor and use the mirror to put on a swipe of glittery lipgloss. You feel almost naked without it. “Slurpees?” you offer before smacking your mouth to spread the sparkly glaze.

“That’s so not dinner,” Gareth laughs as he shakes his sandy curls. 

You arch a manicured brow in his direction. “Got a better idea?”

“Nope,” he concedes, popping the ‘p.’

He’s got too much of a soft spot for you to deny you of anything. Perks of being the youngest sibling, you suppose.

You feel butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach, their wings brushing the edges of your ribcage as he pulls into the gas station — and it’s not because of the $1 Slurpees. Your stepbrother’s best friend, Eddie Munson, usually deals drugs in the back parking lot on weekends. Like the absolute dreamboat he is. 

It’s been days since you last saw him. Six of them, to be exact, but it’s not like you’re counting or anything.

While Gareth waits in line to pay for your drink and his food, you decide to quell your yearning. It’s much more like a hunger, though. Whatever innocent crush you used to have is far more salient now. You miss Eddie like a dinner you didn’t get to eat — noticeably empty, weakened without his smile to bring you back to life.

You round the corner to the back lot and find him flipping through a wad of cash. He leans against the brick wall with one dirty sneaker kicked up against it. Despite the middle of summer head, he hasn’t yet forgone his leather jacket and dark denim jeans duo. He looks killer, as usual — so you could only imagine how he’d look out of them.

When he hears the sound of footsteps scuffing against pavement, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze is halfway hidden beneath his fluffy bangs before he turns to face you wholly. 

He grins at the sight of you, and you fill whole again.

“Hi, Teddy,” you greet with a smile, stained blue from your raspberry Slurpee.

He rises on both feet and tucks the money into the back pocket of his baggy jeans. His head tilts to his shoulder as he looks at you, too cute for his own good. “Whatcha doin’ out here, princess?”

Your stomach flutters at the nickname you’ve heard too many times to count. 

“Came to see you,” you shrug innocently, curling your smile around the straw of your drink.

Eddie beams, brows raising in amusement and cheeks reddening at your answer. He hopes you’re too far away to see his cheeks glowing as pink as they are now. He’d just blame it on the summer heat, anyway. 

“Really?” he lilts, voice light and airy with mirth.

You shrug as you swallow down the fruity slushy. “Gareth brought me for Slurpees.”

“How sweet.”

“Right?” you hum with a blue-tinted smirk, slowing when you finally reach the boy. His weed-tinged, woody musk envelopes you completely — he might as well be embracing you. “Best brother ever.”

Gareth isn’t really your brother, despite how often you call him that. You’re related by marriage, not by blood. You’ve known him your entire life, though, so you figure you might as well be.

Eddie knows this, so he smiles and takes a rather dramatic step back from you. “And that is exactly why I have to stay approximately three feet away from you at all times, princess.”

“Why’s that?” you squint at him.

When you take another step closer, he takes two more back.

“‘Cause he’s been threatening to beat my ass about dating you since we were thirteen.”

A smile quirks the right side of your lips. “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you lilt.

Eddie’s brows raise at the mischievous inflection in your words. This time when you step towards him, he stays in place. “You’d really do that to him? To the ‘best brother ever?’”

You take another daring step towards him. Your chin tilts up to look at him in your ever-shortening proximity. “I’ve done far worse things than think his best friend is hot, Teddy.”

“Yeah?” the boy coos, chocolate eyes dancing with amusement as his chin dips to his chest to peer down at you. He makes the mistake of looking lower — at your breasts in your pretty little tank top and the silver of your stomach showing beneath the hem. He wants so desperately to hold you, despite everything that tells him he shouldn’t. His best friend, namely.

“And what’s that, princess?” the boy croons to you.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you blink innocently up at him, then shrug. “Sorry.”

Eddie knows he shouldn’t be jealous, but he is. 

You’re not his, but god, you were so good at making him feel like you were. You were around so often, always so sweet in your way — sometimes, it felt like you really did belong to him. The thought of his girl with someone else makes him feel like puking.

Jealousy radiates from him like steam, palpable enough for you to feel. 

You grin.

“Don’t worry, Teddy,” you singsong, taking another goddamn step closer. Eddie knows he should be taking a thousand more backward, but your chest brushes his torso and he forgets how to walk. “I only have eyes for you.”

The boy swallows through a tightening throat. He nods for a moment, trying to work up the courage to use his voice. He’s scared that it’ll break, and he’ll lose all cool points with you. And he’s the rockstar, the older brother’s best friend — he can’t possibly have that.

“Good to know,” Eddie finally nods.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. Might have to find some other metalhead to give me attention.”

Your smile widens when his jaw clenches, honeyed glaze hardening at the thought of you finding someone else. Your heart flutters when you realize that he sees you as his. He’s already been yours for a long, long time.

Gareth calls your name from a distance, muffled and far away. It’s nearly inaudible, but it knocks Eddie from his stupor all the same. “You should go, princess.” 

“My parents usually go to bed around nine. Gareth’s usually sucking in the ceiling by eleven,” you maunder suddenly, wide eyes sparkling with roguishness. “If you park your van a few houses down around midnight, no one will be the wiser…”

“You want me to sneak into your bedroom?” Eddie laughs softly to himself. He hasn’t done that since he was sixteen. He thought he was over chasing girls like that. Turns out, he wasn’t really. Not when it came to you, at least.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a firm nod, lips wrapping around the red straw of your slushy right after.

“And what’s in it for me, huh?”

Truth be told, Eddie couldn’t give a shit. He already knows he’ll be at your house at 12 o’clock sharp, climbing up your trellis like some kind of offbeat Spiderman. He just wants to hear you tell him something, anything — a wish for him to go on for the next several hours while he’s stuck dealing in the heat, thinking about you.

You don’t answer him with words.

You rise on the tips of your toes, holding onto your Slurpee with one hand and using your free one to cup his cheek. You usher the boy softly towards you as you press your mouth to his. And it’s not the most heated kiss in the world or anything — just a languid, honeyed thing that makes your lips lock like they were made to do it.

Eddie’s idling hands rise to your waist. His ringed fingers squeeze the bare skin of your sides as he sighs against your mouth. You taste cold and sweet — like blue raspberry and ice and lipgloss — his savior in this heat. The tip of his nose smushes against the side of yours, desperate to melt with you entirely. He thinks it might be close to possible, having you so close in the sweltering summer evening.

He’s breathless when you pull away from him.

“More of that,” you answer through labored breaths. “And maybe a little extra, if you’re good.”

Eddie doesn’t bother denying his want for you anymore. Fuck it, he’ll just fight his best friend. He can take a punch if he has to, but he’s not sure Gareth could even throw one — especially not at the boy he’s known for practically half his life.

“Your bedroom’s the last window on the light, right?” Eddie asks through rosy, kiss-bitten lips.

“Yeah,” you grin, backing slowly away from him. “I’ll leave my light on.”

He nods until the words catch up with him. “Okay.”

“See you then, Teddy.”

When you turn the corner for the main parking lot, Eddie can finally breathe again. 

The air is noticeably less sweet without you around.

[morelikeravenbore]

Good Boy

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC | Needy Sebastian | spicy one shot 🔞

Needy/slightly unhinged/traumatised Sebastian, post-uncle murdering. All sexual acts are consensual, good ol' P in V against a wall.

Warning: SMUT. 18+ CHARACTERS. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Contains sexual content, reader discretion is advised.

On bad days like these, Sebastian simply couldn't believe in love until it held him close and kissed him and told him he wasn't the deplorable monster he believed himself to be. Love had always evaded him, but by some stroke of luck he wasn't deserving of, he'd found it living in the body of the girl currently squashed between him and the wall.

Word count: 1.4k

READ UNDER THE CUT 👇

[WATTPAD] [AO3] [HL fic masterlist]

Sebastian Sallow was whimpering as he pressed his girlfriend against the wall of the empty classroom, pinning her small body between the cold stone and the urgent heat of his much-larger frame.

His day had been bad from the moment he'd woken up, exhausted after a long night of intrusive thoughts and horrific nightmares. Sweat-soaked from thrashing about for eight hours straight (and not in a fun way), he'd disentangled himself from his sheets and dragged himself, grumbling and dishevelled, into a day that had steadily gotten worse and worse.

First, he'd endured the wrath of Ominis Gaunt, who'd been in so foul a mood that even Salazar Slytherin himself would've quaked in his boots to witness it, then sat through all of his least favourite subjects in a row - including a double period of History of Magic - and finally, been forced to spend several hours flying around the Quidditch pitch in the pouring rain while Imelda Reyes shouted at him that he a useless sack of ugly, half-sprouted potatoes.

As if all that wasn't bad enough, he'd trudged into the Great Hall for dinner so late that he'd only gotten scraps to eat, stubbed his toe on the Slytherin table on the way out, and when he'd finally tracked down his girlfriend in the library, he'd been forced to wait, silent and brooding, for her study group to fuck off so he could finally be alone with her.

When finally - finally - she'd bid them goodnight, Sebastian had marched her directly out of the library, pulled her into the nearest empty room by her elbow, and whined, petulant and needy, into her open mouth, barely able to form the word 'please' as his fingers dug into her waist.

There wasn't much Sebastian couldn't handle; he was an orphan, after all, had survived a foray into the Dark Arts (though hardly unscathed), used all three Unforgivables without much moral objection, and - since there's no point beating round the bush about it - had used said Unforgivables to murder someone.

Yet despite all the tragedies he'd endured in his comparatively short life, the insurmountable odds stacked against his own happiness, and the way he seemed to possess a natural proclivity for fucking things up, the only thing that ever truly unraveled him was love. Or, more specifically, the acute sting that came when he felt himself in danger of losing it; a sting which manifested as a singular, all-consuming need to find relief in physical intimacy.

In other words, Sebastian Sallow liked to fuck his pain away.

'Bad day?' asked his girlfriend, her sweet voice muffled against his chest as he caged her against the wall.

Unable to form a coherent reply, he leaned his full weight against her, groaning into her hair as he rolled his hips against her navel, pressing, pressing, pressing into her warm body until all her breath squeezed out in a tiny huff. He backed up a bit, giving her just enough space to breathe without letting the heat between them cool, but he was too far gone the way of desperation to allow more than a few inches of separation.

Wordless, he yanked the hem of her blouse free from her skirt and slid it up to her chest, groaning at the feel of her soft skin beneath his calloused palm.

She felt like fucking flower petals. Wings of a fucking butterfly.

Fuck.

On bad days like these, Sebastian simply couldn't believe in love until it held him close and kissed him and told him he wasn't the deplorable monster he believed himself to be. Love had always evaded him, but by some stroke of luck he wasn't deserving of, he'd found it living in the body of the girl currently squashed between him and the wall.

'It's alright, I'm here.' Wiggling some space between them, she stretched up to kiss the underside of his chin; the only part of his face she could reach, even on her tiptoes 'What do you need?'

He whined again, all decorum lost as his lips grazed her temple, his breath hot on her skin. He cradled her face, pressed a kiss to her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, breathed in the scent of her hair, lost his fucking mind - but he couldn't speak. Not with his words, at least.

'Sebastian, look at me.'

With great effort, he peeled his lips from her neck and looked her in the eyes. Love stared back at him, bright and pure and clear.

Love so brilliant it was staggering.

'Have you been good?' asked love.

No, answered the darkness in his head.

Good? Had he ever been good?

He dropped his head to her shoulder.

'No,' he moaned, 'I haven't.' He licked his way up the slender column of her throat - 'I'm not good' - nibbled her jawline, kissed her chin, pressed his aching cock against her stomach - 'I'm sorry.' His voice was small, unfamiliar. 'I want to be good. You know I want to be good, you know it.'

This wasn't entirely true; he did want to be good, but only when he was with her.

'Why haven't you been good?'

'Wanted to... Hex your study group...' he moaned. 'Wanted to destroy everyone... To keep you... For myself.'

He was panting now, his words broken between frantic kisses as he worked off her blouse. He tossed it carelessly over his shoulder, discarding the first barrier that stood between him and love.

'Called Ominis a twat,' he went on, thrusting against her stomach with increasing urgency. 'Purposely let a Bludger knock Imelda off-course... Enjoyed both... Immensely.'

When she made a sound of disapproval into his mouth, he only became more frantic, desperate to find the places where love dwelt in her body and coax it out with his mouth, his fingers; to suck on it, roll it around on his tongue, sink into its warm, wet depths.

Her bra was the next barrier to be eliminated. If love lived in her nipples, his lips would surely draw it out.

'What about - the dreams?' she moaned, arching into him, sweetness in his mouth.

'Yes,' he whimpered, ashamed.

Yes, the dreams. Fucking Merlin, those awful visions of forbidden curses, of Dark Magic flowing like poison through his veins, green and red lights flashing intermittently.

Visions, so like premonitions, of being bad, rotten.

Unlovable.

'Tell me about them.' She tangled her hands through his hair and pulled. He hardly felt it.

'Dream - b-bad.' Speech was hard. 'Dream of being bad.'

He looked her leg around his hip, bunched her skirt up to her waist, rutted mindlessly against the warm, damp spot between her legs.

That's where love lived.

His cock ached for admittance.

'I'm bad.' His voice was strained, hoarse. 'N-not a good boy.'

Then his cock was out, hot and throbbing in his hand.

Fuck, love was so close. Fuck, he needed it.

Her underwear pushed to the side. Slick heat coated his swollen tip.

Crying out against her skin, 'I'm bad, I'm sorry, I'm bad.'

Sinking in slowly.

Love.

Love.

Love.

Frenzied and stupid with need, Sebastian pounded her against the wall until he was too fuck-drunk to hear the cruel voices in his head, until all he knew was blissful, wonderful, perfect her.

When her first orgasm shattered through her, he watched, entranced, as love shone from her every pore and gushed over his cock and rang like music from her mouth. His knees buckled with the force of it but he couldn't stop, not now - not until he was drenched it in, drowning in her love, soaked through.

He couldn't stop through her second orgasm.

Nor her third.

Not even when she was limp and blissfully spent in his arms, eyes rolling back in her head and mouth agape.

Not even then.

Because even if he was bad, he would always be a good boy for her.

[alyrasturnz]

can u write a chris smut fic where his dior sauvage turns reader on

COLOGNE {{ chris sturniolo}}

summary — when the scent of his cologne envelops you, it ignites a spark of desire deep within, weaving an intoxicating spell that heightens your senses and draws you irresistibly closer to him.

— smut

warnings :: swearing , smut , p in v , oral (fem receiving) , overstimulation

a/n ,, this is gonna be my last smut for a while cause i absolutely LOATHE writing smut

entwined in the labyrinth of chris's bed, you lay draped over him, your face nestled in the sanctuary of his neck. his arms, like serpents, coiled around you, creating an inseparable bond that felt both comforting and inescapable. 

the warmth of his skin seeped into yours, and the rhythm of his heartbeat echoed through your body, a steady drumbeat in the quiet room. each breath you took was filled with his scent, a blend of familiarity and solace. 

his fingers traced idle patterns on your back, a silent language of connection and intimacy. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared warmth and whispered secrets.

“you smell nice,” you whisper, drawing in a deep breath and savoring the intoxicating aroma of his dior sauvage perfume. the scent, rich and multifaceted, envelops you, evoking a cascade of emotions and memories, each note a delicate dance of familiarity and allure.

you felt a swarm of butterflies flutter through your stomach, their delicate wings brushing against your insides, and slowly your abdomen, as if igniting a gentle fire within. your core began to heat up, a slow burn of need and vulnerability that spread through you, leaving you feeling exposed yet yearning for more.

"yeah?" he mumbles, his voice a soft murmur, as his fingers weave through your hair with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. "what do you like about it?"

"it's really sexy," you whisper, your voice barely audible as it escapes your lips. you lift your face from the warmth of his neck, the lingering scent of his cologne still dancing in your senses. 

your eyes lock with his, a silent exchange of longing and unspoken words. slowly, deliberately, you close the distance between you, your breath intertwining with his in a shared moment of anticipation. 

your lips meet his in a gentle yet fervent kiss, a tender declaration of your desire that leaves you both breathless and yearning for more.

the kiss ignited with a fervent passion, each touch a spark that set your senses ablaze. as the intensity built, chris's movements became more deliberate, his tongue tracing the delicate contour of your lip with a tantalizing slowness. 

it was a silent, yet unmistakable plea for access, a wordless request to deepen the connection and explore the uncharted territory of your shared desire. each moment stretched into an eternity, the anticipation building as you felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, a prelude to the deeper intimacy that awaited.

you part your lips, granting him silent permission to slip his tongue past the threshold. he ventures through the warm expanse of your mouth, exploring with a deliberate and tantalizing curiosity. each movement is a dance, a symphony of sensations that leaves you both breathless and craving more.

without breaking the kiss, he effortlessly flips you over, positioning your back against the soft embrace of the mattress. his strong arms create a protective barrier on either side of you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and security. the transition is seamless, a testament to the unspoken connection and shared desire that binds you both in this intimate moment.

chris trailed a series of kisses down to your neck, each one a deliberate act of worship that sent shivers down your spine. his lips moved with a tantalizing slowness, savoring every inch of your skin. he paused to gently bite and nibble at the sensitive areas, leaving a trail of tingling sensations that made your breath hitch. 

as if to soothe the marks of his affection, he then planted soft, tender kisses atop the love marks, his lips lingering as if to imprint the memory of his touch into your very soul. the contrast of his gentle kisses and the sharp bites created a symphony of sensations, a delicate balance of passion and tenderness that left you yearning for more, your body arching towards his in silent invitation.

your core throbbed with a molten heat, each drop intensifying the inferno within as chris' bulge pressed insistently against your thigh. the sensation sent waves of electric anticipation coursing through you, heightening the already overwhelming wetness pooling between your legs. 

every subtle movement, every shift of his body, seemed to stoke the flames of your desire, making you acutely aware of the intimate connection and the raw, unspoken passion building between you.

"chris," you whimpered, your voice a delicate plea, as his chuckle resonated through the air. he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in another tender kiss, each touch a whisper of affection and unspoken promises.

"i know, baby. i know," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble as he deftly slides your sweatpants down, casting them aside with a casual flick. without hesitation, he descends, his mouth finding your heat with an urgency that sends shivers up your spine, your back arching instinctively in response to the intense, consuming need.

you let out a moan, your body trembling uncontrollably with waves of pleasure as his mouth expertly works on your clit. each flick of his tongue sends electric currents through your veins, heightening your senses to an almost unbearable degree. as he inserts two fingers between your folds, the sensation magnifies, his movements deliberate and unyielding. 

your back arches involuntarily, your hands clutching at the sheets, seeking some anchor in the storm of ecstasy that he’s conjuring within you. every nerve in your body seems to sing in response, a symphony of raw, unadulterated pleasure orchestrated by his touch.

you let out a symphony of whimpers and moans, each sound a testament to the pleasure coursing through you as chris’ tongue continues its relentless exploration of your folds. his every movement is deliberate, each lap of his tongue sending ripples of euphoria through your body, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

the pleasure accumulates within you, each wave building upon the last, creating an overwhelming crescendo that leaves you gasping for breath. your moans evolve into breathy whines, each sound a testament to the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body. the symphony of your desire fills the air, a melodic expression of the ecstasy that has taken hold of you.

the tension in your stomach coils tighter, like a spring wound to its limit, as your hand finds its way to chris' hair, fingers weaving through the strands and tugging gently. he buries his face deeper into you, his fingers curling expertly to hit your sweet spot with unerring precision. 

the sensations become an overwhelming torrent, each touch sending shivers cascading down your spine. your breath hitches, and your eyes roll back, lost in the intensity of the moment. a wave of ecstasy crashes over you, causing your body to jolt upward in response, every nerve alight with pleasure, as if each one were a string in a finely tuned instrument being played to perfection. 

the symphony of your desire crescendos, leaving you gasping and trembling, utterly consumed by the rapture that has taken hold of you.

all it took was the expert curl of his fingers to push you over the edge. with a determined thrust, he drove his fingers deeper into you, curling them with precision. the knot in your stomach, wound tight with anticipation, finally snapped. a torrent of your juices surged forth, flooding into chris' mouth. he smirked against you, his lips curling with satisfaction as he felt your release, his touch orchestrating the symphony of your climax.

you let out a loud, breathy moan, your legs trembling violently as chris eagerly slurps up every remaining drop of your essence. with a sense of urgency, he rises to his feet, his hands deftly working to unbuckle his belt. the metallic clink echoes through the room as the belt hits the cold floor, a prelude to the intensity that is about to unfold.

he allowed his pants to cascade to the ground, followed swiftly by his boxers. his length sprang forth, flushed with a deep red hue, the tip glistening with the unmistakable sheen of desire. the air seemed to thicken with anticipation, the sight of him standing there, fully exposed, a testament to the intensity of the moment. each pulse of his arousal seemed to echo the fervent beat of his heart, a silent promise of the passion yet to come.

chris approached you with deliberate steps, his length swaying with each movement. he teasingly slapped it against your folds, the sensation sending shivers through your body. with a deft touch, he aligned himself with your entrance, the anticipation building as he slowly began to slide in, inch by tantalizing inch. the gradual intrusion was both a promise and a tease, each moment stretching into an eternity of heightened sensation.

chris groaned deeply, the sound resonating in the air as he felt your walls clench tightly around him. he pulled out with a deliberate slowness, the sensation almost too much to bear, only to slam back in with a force that made you see stars. each thrust was a symphony of raw desire and intense connection, a dance of bodies that left you breathless and yearning for more.

as chris continued his rhythm, the room seemed to blur around you, every nerve ending alight with sensation. his hands gripped your hips with a possessive strength, guiding you to meet his every movement. the friction, the heat, the sheer intensity of it all built up in a crescendo, your breath hitching with each powerful thrust. with every plunge, you felt a wave of pleasure crash over you, drowning you in a sea of ecstasy.

chris's breath was ragged as he leaned in closer, his voice a husky whisper in your ear. "i can't get enough of you," he murmured, his words sending a new wave of heat through your body. "the way you feel... it's driving me wild." with each word, he punctuated his statement with a deep, deliberate thrust, his desire evident in every motion.

chris's voice was thick with desire as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “fuck, this pussy was made for me," he groaned, his words a possessive declaration that sent shivers down your spine. "every inch of you... perfect for me." 

his hands roamed your body with a fervent need, fingers tracing every curve and dip, as if memorizing the map of your skin. he pulled you closer, his chest pressed against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. each thrust was deliberate and powerful, his hips snapping forward with a precision that left you breathless. 

his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, teeth grazing lightly before he sucked, leaving a mark that claimed you as his. his breath came in ragged gasps, matching the rhythm of your bodies moving in perfect sync. “feel you clenching around me,” he continued, his voice a low growl. “fuck you feel so good.” 

with every movement, he seemed to pour more of himself into you, his desire and passion palpable. his hands tightened on your hips, guiding you to meet his every thrust, the connection between you growing deeper with each passing second.

his hands slid down your back, fingers digging into your flesh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he lifted you slightly, changing the angle, and the new sensation made your breath hitch. his movements became more urgent, his hips driving into you with a relentless rhythm that left you gasping for air.

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with raw emotion. then, with a sudden, powerful thrust, he drew you back in, his body melding with yours in a perfect union. the room seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, lost in a world of pure sensation.

his hands moved to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he lifted you higher, his strength evident in every motion. the new position allowed him to go even deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your entire being. his breath was hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he continued to move, each motion more intense than the last.

the sounds of your shared passion filled the room, a symphony of gasps and moans that echoed in the air. his pace quickened, each thrust more powerful, more desperate, as if he couldn't get enough of you. his hands roamed your body, exploring every inch, as if trying to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

the intensity of his movements built to a crescendo, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. his breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to maintain control. and then, with one final, powerful thrust, he pulled you even closer, his entire being focused on the moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

“close..” you gasp, your voice trembling with intensity, as chris's lips curl into a knowing smirk. his movements become more deliberate, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. suddenly, a wave of ecstasy crashes over you, your body convulsing as you reach your climax, a moan escaping your lips, mingling with the sound of his name.

yet chris is relentless, his powerful thrusts continuing unabated, each movement more intense than the last. your senses are overwhelmed, tears welling in your eyes as the flood of overstimulation courses through your body, leaving you trembling and breathless.

"too much," you manage to gasp, your voice barely a whisper amidst the whirlwind of sensations. the words hang in the air, a desperate plea for respite from the unrelenting tide of pleasure and intensity.

but chris's voice cuts through the haze, firm and reassuring, "you can take it." his words, a blend of challenge and encouragement, seem to anchor you, urging you to embrace the intensity and ride the waves of pleasure that threaten to consume you. his confidence in your strength gives you the fortitude to push past the edge, finding a deeper connection within the shared experience.

the pleasure swelled within you for the third time that night, an overwhelming tide of sensation that left you breathless and trembling. tears streamed down your face, mingling with your cries of ecstasy, each one a testament to the intensity of the moment. 

chris, ever attentive and tender, brought a hand up to your cheeks, his fingers gently brushing away the tears. his touch was a soothing balm amidst the storm, grounding you in the shared intimacy and deep connection between you. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in a dance of passion and tenderness.

"i'm almost—" you manage to whisper, but your words are abruptly stolen by the sudden, intense snap of the knot in your stomach. the overwhelming surge of pleasure crashes over you, your body convulsing as you reach your peak. chris's thrusts grow more violent, each movement pushing you further into the abyss of ecstasy. with a final, powerful thrust, he releases deep within you, the shared intensity binding you both in a moment of raw, unfiltered passion.

chris lingers inside you for a few lingering moments, the warmth and connection palpable between you. eventually, he begins to withdraw, and as he does, you start to wince from the sudden emptiness, the stark contrast of his absence leaving you feeling both vulnerable and yearning. the intimacy of the moment lingers in the air, a silent testament to the deep bond you share.

"i can clean you up and order food while you put your favorite movie on?" he asks softly, planting a tender kiss on your lips. you giggle softly, the gentle suggestion and his affectionate touch combining to create a moment of pure, unspoken understanding and care. the simplicity of his words belies the depth of his consideration, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and love.

“i’d love that”

[arcielee]

Only if for a night.

Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3750 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving, m implied), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: This was a request from my darling anon! This idea literally had me obsessed until I completed it, so please don't think this is the bar for my response time. 😂 Also, a big thank you to my kindred spirits who answered my v. important questions about Aegon's booty! (You know who you are and Ily 💜) Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Update: This story has a pick your own ending. And you told me I should concentrate. [Aegon x you] But you came over me like some holy rite. [Aemond x you] Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

You felt numb from the sight: seeing your husband on his knees and feasting between the plush thighs of the queen.

It formed a knot that choked you, but it did not stem from a lover’s jealousy–as you knew that you did not love Aemond and he, certainly, did not love you. You always knew your marriage was one of honor and duty, to solidify victory, a peace offering postwar.

You came from a house that was reputable and wealthy, bringing a sizable force to ensure that King Aegon II would remain on the Iron Throne. Your father boasted of marrying his only daughter into the Targaryen dynasty and you felt fortunate to be given a handsome husband, despite his scarred socket. 

Prince Aemond already had a fierce reputation that preceded before you met; your ladies-in-waiting tittered over his disfigurement, his sense of bloodlust, and their hushed whispers of kinslayer that haunted him still despite that the kingly decree his actions were that of a true dragon. He was a renowned veteran of the war that was won, that instilled his brother as king without question, and in return he remained prominent on the council, serving still as the Protector of the Realm. 

You were shy, intimidated even, when you first saw the severity that lined his features, the unabashed gaze with his sapphire stone that replaced the eye lost, but you decided he was handsome in a way that was uniquely his own. You also  found Aemond was respectful and kind, that he was intelligent, he was considerate, and you sighed your relief, knowing all too often how ladies would be knitted to cruel lords. 

For your bedding ceremony, the only glimpse of the dragon that thrummed beneath was how Aemond barked to dismiss the maesters, the Lord Hand, allowing you both privacy to complete the act. He seemed well aware of the discomfort a maiden could feel and treated you with the utmost courtesy, mindful of your sighs, your soft sounds to completion.

He was dutiful and he was diligent. It was not love at first sight, not like the stories told; there was no fluttering of butterfly wings throughout nor did your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but you enjoyed his company, his consistency, and his consideration. 

In all, it was a formidable match and you were certain the marriage would be a success. 

Especially once you produced a silver haired royal babe. 

Which is why you were freshly bathed and dressed in silk, just the quiet echoes of your slippered footfalls against the cobblestone that led towards your lord husband’s quarters. You thought yourself fortunate no white cloak was perched outside his door, and you pressed close to listen before you carefully turned the gilded handle of the door. 

The room was cast in the amber glow from the hearth and tapers lit, and it was the lewd sounds that first caught your attention. You were rooted in the doorcase, your eyelashes fluttered at the view in front of you. 

Aemond was bare from the waist up, the peaks of the silver scars peering through his silver hair, and he was kneeled before the velvet settee at the end of his bed. You watched the muscled definition of his backside, the golden glow of the fireplace highlighting his bareness, as well as the elegant arc of a calf that was draped casually over his shoulder. 

Your eyes followed the milky curve of this limb to look over his shoulder and see the flushed features of Helaena. She was seated on the settee, her laces loosened which allowed the natural spill of her chest, with the peak of her areolas and the rose hues that stained the skin showing. Her skirts were rutted around her hips, the fabric spilling around, and her eyelashes fluttered with a silver glimmer, her head rolling back with a wave of her silver tresses. A smile curled on her kiss-swollen lips and there was a shudder of her pleasure that rippled viscerally over, her fingers curling against his scalp with the breathless whisper. 

“Aemond.”

The humiliation was hot in your veins and burned your cheeks; you willed yourself to move, but your eyes were rapt to attention, watching the frantic rise and fall of Helaena’s chest, her nipples pebbled, and the spilled moans from her mouth.

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

You left as quietly as you entered; your steps were soft, quick to take you back, with one hand lifting the silk of your chemise and the other wiping the tears that began to spill. 

We were not in love, you remind yourself, but it still pinched a nerve within your chest. He was still your husband and you were duty bound to bore him a child, a son if the Lord Hand could choose. The act itself was not unpleasant, but Aemond had never…

Your thoughts were interrupted with a singsong call of your name; you were quick to wipe your face before turning to see the king.

“Your grace,” you offered him a feeble curtsy and even weaker smile. 

Aegon moved with a grace, a sway to his steps; his brow furrowed above his wide, lilac eyes, and there was a genuineness to his question. “Sweet sister, it is late, what has you out of bed?” 

Before you had been sent to King’s Landing, your mother warned you of his behaviors; you were also told the tale of how the newly anointed Lord Commander and your lord husband had to drag Aegon from the streets of Flea Bottom and place him on the Iron Throne. 

But this notoriety of his youth seemed to dissipate with the placement of the Conqueror’s crown he now wore proudly on his silver waves. It seemed to kindle the royal ichor in his veins, and he moved with an elegance as he pressed closer, peering at you with his continued concern.  

“I… I was feeling unwell and thought that I would go for a walk,” you chose your words carefully, trying to mask the threat of emotion that brimmed beneath. 

His brow quirked. “Alone?”

You swallowed. In this moment, you wished to slip away, to return to your rooms and drown in your sorrow, your failures as a wife in light of learning your new husband’s infidelities, your self-loathing for craving the passion Aemond displayed, wishing it to be shown towards you instead…

The silence hung thick, too long for his liking, and Aegon reached to take your hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. “It is late,” he repeated. “If you are unwell, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.” 

You fell in step, peering at him. Aegon was handsome, as your supposed all Targaryen men seemed to be; your eyes admired his silver tresses that curled at his shoulders, that showed golden with the lights that lined the corridor, casting a gold ring that reflected in the lilac of his eyes that flitted over you; his lips were rosy, an upwards curl when he noticed your stare. “You seem so solemn tonight,” he tried again. 

The proximity allowed you to smell the long day on him, mixing with the scents of lavender and tea tree oils, a regal musk that called to you to nestle your head against his chest and cry. “It is only that I am feeling unwell,” is what you said instead. 

His eyes were wide and watchful, but he did not argue and instead allowed the silence to envelope as he walked with you. Before you could wish him goodnight, he pushed into your room, ordering your handmaidens to fetch something to eat, as well as red wine to help settle your stomach. 

They jumped with his command, quick to listen, and soon enough you were sitting on the terrace that overlooked the coast of Blackwater Bay, holding a goblet that brimmed with a Dornish wine that stained your lips with each polite sip. Aegon sat across from you, a boyish grin as he dismissed your handmaidens for the night, before reaching to break the bread for you both. 

The silence followed from the corridor, settling over in a way that was not at all uncomfortable; you peered again at Aegon, a choked cry in your throat as you watched him take care to slice the cheeses and the olives for the bread, before offering it to you. 

It was a simple, sweet gesture and you chewed, forcing down the bite with the wine. Whereas conversation had to be dragged from your husband, you found his brother’s tongue would not idle; perhaps it loosened from the wine, but it was not a mindless filler in a way that words are used as though silence were a threat, but you found Aegon to be cheerful, witty, as he shared stories from his youth. 

Aegon glowned from his narration, from the silver light that poured over; the night sky was empty with the clouds rolling over the black water, the air cool and salty. Your cheeks were rosy from your drink and your laughter, and when your cup emptied, he was quick to refill it. 

He pressed for your turn and you shared about your life before coming to King’s Landing. Aegon was an attentive listener, with sighs punctuating; you looked to see that his cheeks were pink from the wine and the wind, a curl returning to his lips. “My brother is fortunate to have such a pretty and witty wife.” 

Those words were the unknown catalyst broken; you did not sob your sorrow but instead there were large tears that rolled down your cheeks. You did not realize you were shaking until you felt his fingers, his touch warm, soft, wrapping gently around your wrist. You allowed him to pull you from your seat, towards him–now standing–and enveloping you into his arms for a moment before he sat back down, pulling you onto his lap. 

Your mannerly upbringing roared in your ears, this was wrong, this was improper, to be pulled into an unchaperoned embrace of your husband’s brother–the fucking king of the Seven Realms. But instead you curled against his chest, that regal musk soothing, his warmth pleasant against the nip of the air. You indulged in his comfort–his palm rubbing slow circles along your spine, his other arm across your lap, his hand gripping into your thigh. 

His touch grounded you, allowing you to compose yourself and share with him what you had found in Aemond’s quarters, making sure to elicit a detail that Aegon freely supplied.

“He was with Helaena, right?”

You looked at him. “You knew?” Your voice cracked, incredulous. 

Aegon only hummed, continuing his soothing ministrations, his hand rubbing your backside. “I thought you did as well,” he admitted. “Our status within the Seven Realms… requires certain duties to be fulfilled. We are honorbound to these obligations, to ensure peace amongst the kingdoms. But it is just a role to be played for the public.” 

You knew this in part already; you were always aware of the duty of your marriage, the child that you were expected to bring into the world. But still, the truth spoken brought a new wave of tears that he consoled. Your body burned with his touch, his finger curling and his thumb pressing into your chin to bring your watery eyes to his own. “Is it that you love him?” He asked with a curiosity that could not be helped, in light of your reaction. 

You did not, and would never, certainly not after this night. The tears that spilled came from something deeper, something that licked your belly when your eyes lingered in Aemond’s room, and your voice quavered, hiccupping to explain this. 

Aegon had an almost kingly glow in the moonlight, with its silver light reflecting in the stubble that spread across his square jaw, framing the mischievous grin that curled on his wine stained lips. “Is your husband,” he speaks of him like he is apart from Aemond, not knitted within the same womb, with the same dragon’s blood thrumming in his veins, “not fulfilling his marital duties?” 

You stammered with your response. This was not what you meant, as Aemond was courteous to his completion, but it was never like what you spied tonight. You flushed remembering the shades of pink that plumed against Helaena’s porcelain skin, how her back arched with her cries, his name a fervent prayer spilling from kiss-swollen lips… 

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

Aegon’s timbre brings you back out to the terrace, with his continued soft circles on the outside of your thigh. “You would know if he had,” he spoke so casually, almost flippant with the subject. 

How would you know? And you regret your question, your naivety apparent with your words. 

The same mischievous smirk returned to his lips, and as the moonglow spilled over him something glimmered, something knowing from how his brow quirked with your question. Aegon tilted his head up slightly, his lips now close to the soft divot beneath your ear, grazing your skin with his whisper, “I could show you.” 

Your lips part in shock, your eyes wide to look him over and see the flush of color that stained his cheeks, the wine that stained his lips. 

And you dared to kiss him. 

Your lips are shy to touch, almost chaste with your action, but Aegon responds, quick, his fingers curling at the base of your neck and his other coming around your waist. His lips are full, soft, warm with the hint of the sweet wine to taste when his tongue runs your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue clever, careful, as he drew the very breath from your lungs. 

The spill of silk showed your shoulder and you gasped softly when he broke away, his mouth ravenous to capture the skin now exposed, with a wake of love bites from his open mouth kisses, and a warmth began to bloom within you. You touched his chest with a gentle push to stand and he lets go, his lilac eyes wide and wanting; your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull him to stand, boldly leading him within your chambers. 

Aegon stopped you in the archway, and you turned to see the smile on his lips as he pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs and his hands trailing your curves, settling and gripping onto your hip bones. His mouth captured yours once again, and your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer. 

You almost whined when he stopped the kiss, his eyes glassy and their color swallowed by pools of black. “My brother is an idiot,” is all he said. 

Before you could breathe a response, he pulled you into the room and back against his mouth, moving with the flutter of kisses along your jawline, nipping into the curve of your neck. His palms are still on the small of your waist, with guiding steps back towards the bed.

Clothes are removed with a passion, leaving a trail behind. “Lay back,” he coaxed, his hands warm against your bareness, careful to press until you laid against the mattress. Aegon followed after, climbing on top of you to meet with another kiss, with his sweet murmur, “Let me show you.”  

It is a tickling sensation, the mixture of his stubble with the softness of his lips against the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest. Gooseflesh rippled over, your nipples peaking from the warmth of his touch; his palm cups one breast while his hot mouth latches to the other, teeth and tongue teasing. 

You squirmed beneath him; his chuckle was low and warm against the valley between your breasts, from shifting his focus from one to the other. “So impatient,” and his hot kiss sends shivers down your spine, with an intensity that you know will mark you. 

You shivered again with that thought.

This reaction encouraged a tensity shown to your nipples, his tongue swirled and another crest of pleasure rippled over, your hand moving to cover your mouth to muffle. Again, his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm down to your side and pushing up to find your lips. “None of the that,” and his lips curled into an almost wicked smile, “your king wishes to hear you.” 

Satisfied with the crimson that flooded your cheeks, Aegon moved towards your core with sporadic kisses trailing, a warm tickle of his exhale as he nestled between your thighs. 

Your heart fluttered with the intimate kiss he placed, something that sparked a warmth that began to spread out towards the apex of your thighs and beyond. Your hips buck slightly from the sensation and you can feel him grin against your cunt. 

“So eager,” he breathed, a warm thrill against your slick slit, his tongue flitting with a precision that had you panting. “Yes, just like that,” he praised, his fingers now pressing within your velvet walls and stretching as one curled within, then another. 

His mouth, his touch was practiced, pulling something to blossom within the pit of your stomach, a fluttering sensation that built with the tandem of his fingers and his tongue.

You gasped, peering to see the top of his head, the spill of his silver waves as he moved, ravenous, determined. You writhed, a pitiful mewling sound, and his one hand moved to curl underneath your thigh, holding you in place with his continued sinful motion, your arousal spilling onto the bedsheets. 

It was too much, and you whimpered, “A-Aegon,” as your hands balled to grip the linen. 

“Just like that,” he purred against, his rhythm building still, a pressure threatening to burst within you. “Come for me, sweet girl.” 

It engulfs you as though you had been dropped into Blackwater Bay, a rush that spilled with the come hither curl of his fingers, pressing his lips against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You see the stars when your eyes flutter closed, the spill of tears that pearled in the corners of your eyes, your chest heaving to catch your breath and your thighs trembling. 

His praise was low, husky. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You slowly propped yourself onto your elbows, flushed, and reached towards him, but he stopped your hand. “Next time,” Aegon promised with a cheeky grin. 

You are flushed from his actions, from his words, your heart rate picking up again as Aegon climbed on top of you, nestling into the cradle of your hips. His expression was smug, his lips and chin slick, and you kissed him, hungry for him, curious of your own taste; you enjoyed the salty sweetness from the Dornish wine that mixed. His hand dipped between, lining himself with your entrance, and you sighed into his mouth. 

Aegon has girth, a thickness to him that stretches your walls. You gasp, then another whine that spilled as he pushed to sheath fully within you; Aegon swallowed your cries with his kisses, his hips still to allow you to adjust to his size, checking before he began his slow rut against your hips.  

You pant against his chest, your fingers digging into the twin divots on his lower back as he filled you with each thrust, a bruising pace that began to spark in front of your eyes. You cling to him with a desperation, still sensitive from your first release and flustered from the touch of his bare skin against your own.  

There is the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, positioning himself on his knees, his palms wrapping around your ankles and pulling to place your feet against his chest; your hips cant up, allowing him to be swallowed by your warmth again, a guttural groan that reverberates through when you clenched.

This new angle sparked another cry, lights dancing across your eyes with his pace; he was grinning down at you, pausing to turn his head with a quick kiss to the arc of your foot, and you giggled. 

His large hands moved to press onto the mattress, caging you, and he rolled his hips against your own; the wet squelch with your soft cry as he bruised within. You mewled his name when his pace quickened, pistoning his hips against. 

There was the returned flutter of pleasure and Aegon lifted one hand. “Open,” and you obey, your tongue touching the pad of his thumb, swirling to coat it with your saliva. When he pulled back, a bit of spittle broke off onto your chin, and his hand dipped to press against the bloom above, his touch soft, searching. 

Yours cries are unbridled at the touch of your pearl, and his satisfaction was apparent on his flushed features, his hips finding a new pace with his new ministrations. Your muscles tightened in response, your back arching against, and it comes, a tidal wave, an intensity that shudders throughout, rattling your bones beneath. 

Aegon continued through your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy to chase after his own release before melting against you, with a low groan into the junction of your neck that rumbled pleasantly through you. 

You both lay there in an intimate tangle of bare limbs until your breathing evened. Aegon rolled onto his side and reached to touch your hip, his lilac eyes roaming over you, admiring you. “Beautiful,” he declared, then leaned closer for a gentle kiss. 

You giggled again, pulling away to clean up. Aegon allowed it, but was adamant that you remained bare, pulling you back to bed after and curling up against, his face nuzzling into your neck; your skin rose in response. 

“For duty, for honor,” he murmured, moving to pull you until your head rested on his chest; his soothing scent and musk of sex now clung to the linen. “A silver haired child all the same,” and he kissed your hairline with his confession. “The twins, Maegor, I am not even certain they are mine or not, but I love them nonetheless.” 

“The blood of the dragon,” you whispered, tilting your head back and allowing him to kiss you once again. 

You felt a new satisfaction, a new understanding of your role within the Targaryen dynasty. The thought warmed you, I love them nonetheless, as you nestled against his chest, allowing the rise and fall to lull you to sleep. 

arcie's masterlist

[konigbabe]

keep it quiet

Pairing: ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader | single dad AU

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; single dad Leon; breath play; p-in-v sex; praise kink; top!leon; blowjobs; slight face-fucking; female gendered anatomy

Summary: Just single dad Leon fucking you in the janitor's closet during class.

a/n: Canon ID!Leon is around 29 but Leon in this '"universe" is aged up to be in his 30s (age won't be specified but I imagine him to be in his mid-to-late 30s).

Written as part of my A to Z kinks game. Q is for a quickie.

series masterlist �� masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The pungent smell of bleach hangs heavy in the air, biting your nose with every breath you take; tangling with the bright citrus notes of Leon's cologne, a potent blend of bergamot and lemon. The two scents mingle and dance, a waltz of sharp and sweet.

It’s an unexpected combination. One that should’ve clashed, yet somehow they complement each other.

Your mind tries to process the conflicting sensations, but it’s a futile effort when every sense is consumed by the man behind you and the way his hips keep pistoning into you.

Sharp, short thrusts.

Each one driving his cock deeper into your body.

Angled so that the head of his cock kisses your cervix every time. With a fervor that steals your breath. Baths you in liquid fire.

Each thrust like a battering ram, slamming into you with a force that threatens to tear you apart.

Somehow, you find yourself holding on, clinging to the nearby shelf, like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored to this world. Knuckles straining, fingers curling over the smooth surface, a rush of heat courses through your veins as Leon's grip tightens ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Leon–"

Your whine tapers off, replaced by a deep, purring hum of satisfaction as Leon’s hand encircles your throat; exerting a gentle but firm grip that pulls you closer to him. Chin nestled on the base of your shoulder, his teeth glide across the tender underside of your ear.

A tingle starts at the nape of your neck and courses through your body, like a sparkling river of sensation.

The fluorescent light above flickers intermittently, casting a ghostly and eerie glow over the confined space. The hum of the light like a faint melody.

The grip on your hips dissipates; Leon’s other arm moves upwards. His palm hovers before your lips, the tip of his middle finger tracing the underside of your lip; heartbeat picking up.

"Open up fo’ me."

And you oblige. Without a second wasted, two of his fingers find their way into your mouth. Pressing against the wet muscle, teasing your tongue and coaxing it into action; hooking behind your teeth, you manage to swirl your tongue around the fingertips.

"That’s it–jus’ like that," his words come in a low, gravelly murmur. Dripping in satisfaction. Followed by a brush of his lips against the delicate shell of your ear. "Good girl."

His words flood your body with heat; every nerve alights. His voice a velvet caress. A balm to your soul. A sweet validation.

Nudging your legs further apart with his boot, you suck at his fingers one by one; giving each a secluded attention. Leon’s breath hitches when your tongue laps at the tip of his index finger; the weight of his forehead rests on the crown of your shoulder, lips parting in a gasp of pleasure.

It makes you moan, makes you quiver around him, akin to the flutter of a butterfly's wings.

Pushing your hips backwards, you meet the sharp plane of his pelvis as his fingers withdraw; a wet string smudged over your lower lip. Slickness coats your tongue, leaving a tangy taste in your mouth.

Leon's fingers sneak under the hunched material of your skirt, tracing a wet path over the exposed flesh of your thighs. His thumb lingers at the apex, applying just enough pressure to make you shiver, attempting to bite back a moan.

Lost in the sea of sensations that threaten to consume you.

The rough pads of his fingers find your clit; the pulsating nub throbs beneath his touch. It's as if a live wire is coursing through your body, electrifying every nerve ending. Leon’s fingers move in rhythm with his thrusts–

"Leon–fuck, don’t stop–Leon–"

Words mingle together. Mind too foggy. Too fucked up to comprehend a single sentence.

-the pressure enough to send you spiralling; making your breath come in ragged gasps, quiet mewls as his fingers dance over your sensitive flesh, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

A sweet ache coils in your belly, radiating outwards.

Both hands gripping a shelf on each side of the narrow closet, you feel like a marionette. Completely at his mercy. The wood creaks under your grasp, protesting the force of your grip. But you can't help it; the pleasure’s too intense, too all-consuming.

Leon's fingers work their magic; teasing and coaxing your body to the brink of orgasm. Each stroke and brush causing your walls to flutter, squeeze him delightfully; making his hips quake with every movement.

The heat between your legs intensifies, the wetness pooling and spilling over onto his cock. His thumb circles your clit, drawing it out and flicking it back in a rhythmic motion that has you on the edge.

Body like a coiled spring, wound tight and ready to snap, your hips push back.

Until the squeeze of his fingers on the side of your throat fades while leaving behind a warmth that lingers on your skin–

Every touch, every stroke, every kiss a building block, adding to the fire that’s burning inside you.

–and is replaced by a hand covering your mouth, stifling a sound that begins to surge from the depths of your being.

In a natural reaction, one of your hands shoots towards the intrusion, fingers wrapping around Leon’s wrist, feeling the cool material of his watch.

You moan when Leon’s hips still. Pelvis flush against the curve of your ass, buried to the brim, as if he's trying to meld his body with yours. His breath ghosts over your nape.

Footsteps echo through the door. Two sets of heels clicking against the polished concrete floor. You both freeze, bodies still tangled together in the cramped space.

You should be panicking, being seen like that. But the fire in your belly refuses to be quenched; your body a bundle of nerves, the thrill of excitement at the thought of being caught mingling with the heady rush of pleasure that Leon is coaxing from you. It's a dangerous game, one that sets your heart racing and your skin ablaze with need.

You’re sure they’ll hear the frantic thumping of your heart, the ragged gasps of breath that escape your lips.

Leon's grip on your jaw tightens, grounding you in the moment, urging you to focus only on the pleasure that he's giving you.

Instead, a whimper slips from your mouth, muffled by Leon’s hand when you feel the slow, deliberate slide of his cock out of your dripping wetness. Moving in slow motion as he withdraws, teasing you with just the tip of his throbbing cock still nestled inside you.

Every nerve in your body alive with anticipation, yearning for the moment when he will plunge back inside you, filling you up completely. You can feel the wetness coating his cock, and the slickness of your own desire as it clings to him, urging him to come back to you.

Your body’s a symphony of sensations, each note building on the last until it crescendos into a symphony of pleasure.

"Shhh," the short stubble grazes your cheek as he murmurs, leisurely drawing his cock back inside your slick heat; the footsteps grow louder, "wouldn’t want your fellow teachers seein’ you gettin’ stuffed by my cock in the janitor’s closet, would you?"

As Leon's hand exerts a gentle force on your parted lips, your head falls back, coming to rest on the sharp, angular edge of his clavicle. Capable of feeling every inch of him as he moves languidly within you, each thrust slow and deliberate, savoring the squeeze of your cunt on him.

Leon’s words, accompanied by a steady slide of his cock, capable of feeling every inch of him; it makes your core throb; your walls to tighten, emitting a gentle moan from the man behind you.

"You’re making noises too," you mumble, the words barely coherent in the midst of your ecstasy. Consumed by the heat of his body against yours, the scent of his mixed with the musky aroma of sex. The sound of his ragged breaths, guttural grunts and gentle moans of your name.

The rhythmic motion of his thrusts lulling you into a state of pure bliss.

"Can’t help it," his teeth graze your shoulder blade, "you just feel too good.." Emphasizing his words; Leon’s fingers pull from your aching nub before giving it a gentle slap. With a sudden shift, his hips deliver a sharp, forceful thrust, shattering the lazy rhythm he’d established earlier.

You inhale sharply at the unexpected sensation, but the burn of desire only intensifies.

Senses on overdrive, the footsteps pass. Leaving you and Leon alone again. It seems to drive him back deeper into you, his thrusts becoming more frenzied and urgent.

Leon’s fingers curl and stroke your clit, slow and steady, then faster, rougher, until—

Heat; A tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you, consuming every inch of your being. Your mind dissolves into a haze of pleasure, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy.

–a cry rips from your throat, echoing through the room. The tension snaps, leaving you panting, trembling, and utterly spent.

Cunt fluttering around Leon’s cock, his hands snap to grip your waist. His breathing’s heavy and ragged, matching the pace of his thrusts. He holds you close, his body flush against yours, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

"Fuck–’m gonna cum," his lips latch onto your pulsating jugular, feeling your violent heartbeat, "be good to me, get on your knees," he rasps, having a hard time formulating full sentences as the coil in his body tightens, threatening to unravel at any moment.

Hips snapping forward one last time, burying himself deep inside your leaking cunt, his breath hot against your skin before you obey.

A pathetic whine leaves your lips at the sudden emptiness when he pulls away, hands guiding you to turn around, putting pressure on your shoulders to make you sink down to your knees in front of him.

Jeans pushed down just enough to free himself, heat flushes your face at the sight of his cock, glistening with your cum. Not wasting time, your lips wrap around the spongy tip, tasting the salty tang of your own release mixed with the slightly sweet taste of his skin. Swirling around the sensitive head.

The taste floods your mouth. A heady mixture of musk and lust.

And you savor it. Like a rare delicacy.

"Fuck–look at you," Leon growls.

His eyes smolder with desire as he looks down at you, watching the way your lips stretch to accommodate him. A low, throaty moan of appreciation slips past his lips, his hand tightening in your hair as he urges you to take him deeper.

Eyes moving upwards, his chin is all you can see as he throws his head back, hand gripping the same shelf you were moments ago, knuckles white. The leather of his jacket creaks with the movement.

Coaxing out every drop of pleasure from his throbbing cock. The taste of him lingers in your mouth, a potent reminder of the pleasure you're bringing him.

Breathing becoming ragged, his body tenses under your hands.

Suddenly, his hips thrust forward with a sudden urgency that takes you by surprise. The head of his cock kisses the back of your throat for a second, causing you to lose your breath and withdraw as your gag reflex kicks in, eyes watering.

You can feel the wetness of your own saliva and his precum dribbling down your chin.

"Shit, sorry," he rumbles, eyes back on your kneeling form.

His gaze is glazed over with desire, and his hand moves from your hair to cup your cheek. He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, smearing the slickness across your skin.

"S’okay," you reassure him with a soft smile, "you can do that; just tell me next time."

He nods as your fingers wrap around his base, taking him back in eagerly, taking him as deep as you can, feeling his thick length stretching your mouth to its limits.

This time, you’re ready; relaxing your throat, you let him set the pace. Feeling the pressure at the back of your head as he guides your face towards his cock.

With each drive, he plunges deeper into your mouth. His body taut like a bowstring, every muscle coiled tight. You can feel the tension emanating from him in waves, his arousal thick in the air between you.

His cock swells inside of your mouth, pulsing with each beat of his heart. You can taste his desire, a heady mix of salt and musk that fills your senses.

Tapping his thigh, he stops his movements as you glide your lips along his cock, hand moving in the same rhythm.

You pick up the pace, tongue and lips working in perfect unison to coax out every last drop of his pleasure.

With a deep grunt of your name, he convulses, his body wracked with spasms of ecstasy. Fingernails scratch your scalp as he spills into your mouth, and you savor the taste of him, swallowing each salty, hot drop eagerly.

As he comes down from his high, he looks down at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude in his eyes.

"That’s A plus, miss teacher," he whispers, voice husky, pulling you up to stand in front of him.

[littlest-w01f]

Papillon

Eris x Lesser Fae!OC (Celastrina)

ERIS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: During one of his hunts, Eris comes across a mythical lesser fae, he keeps coming back for her as she is way too happy to befriend the lonely high fae.

Cw: Hunting for leisure

A/N: This is a pure fluff series cause this got too angsty

part one

The forest was silent, not an insect in sight, it was the time when most of them hid, the time of hunting for the High Fae, the creatures of the forest were in tune with the hunting, knowing where to hide to not be found, what most of them had hoped would bore the High Fae the death only urged them to go deeper into the forest to hunt them down.

Eris drew his bow sharp, hands and eyes trained on a doe a few meters away, he kept himself steady, exhaling softly to not startle the creature. He'd been hunting for hours, following a trail that led to the majestic doe, the doe's skin looked like it was made of gold, humming with magic, its eyes black and a grace with which it ran that couldn't be found in many others. Eris had shot an arrow at it earlier, but the doe had managed to evade it with a jump unnatural for an ordinary deer.

He was drawing closer to the Spring Court border, he'd have to keep away from that place if he didn't want the High Lord to write a rather angry letter to his father to make sure he was kept in check, Eris rolled his eyes at the thought, yes, he was young but it didn't mean a High Lord could just rat him out to his father.

He tilted his head to the side as he watched a butterfly land on the doe's snout, with a little more focus, he saw the fairy, eyes wide at the creature. Fairies were harder to find than most creatures, even if they lived in a hive like the winged insects they could turn themselves into, the little things even harder to shoot with an arrow.

A few hunters had seen fairies, but even fewer had seen them in their full size. They were known to camouflage with the insects, the one Eris was looking at would be invisible with a few butterflies by her side. None of those hunters were believed, after all, fairies were what children's storybooks had, a sad little fae could find himself being befriended by a fairy, and everyone else would be jealous of that fae for their ability to draw out a fairy, to have a heart pure enough that one would be willing to befriend them. Eris had nearly rolled his eyes at that while his mother read him the tales.

Not many had believed that there were fairies in the Autumn woods, most of them were known to wander in Spring, till one of the hunters that now Beron held to a high respect, a hard thing to earn of Eris' father, had brought to their court wings that couldn't have belonged to a normal lesser fae.

The doe soon began to run, taking Eris' focus, but it was drawn back to the fairy almost instantly, the butterfly scenting of magic as she hid the tracks of the doe that Eris had followed. Eris looked back to where he had come from, without the tracks or trail, it would take him hours to figure out how to return to the forest house.

"You know, it's a horrible thing to hunt for fun."

A soft voice called to him, he spun on his heel to come across the fairy, now grown, still shorter than him but more of a High Fae's height, supporting large butterfly wings on her back, wings both of them knew people would die to have, to hunt down.

Eris did a double take, then another one, before he earned his footing back, there was something about her he hadn't seen anywhere else, "Ah, so you're one of these fairies that go around ruining people's hunts?" He'd meant to say the phrase as an insult but the way she smiled he wasn't sure he had.

"Yeah, I am." She was smiling like he was throwing the best of compliments at her. "Mama and Papa said a couple High Fae would be out for us..." She trailed off, marvelling at the sight of Eris, taking in his face, how it was different from hers, where Eris had sharp features, hers were soft, her ears were rounding, his pointed, his hair was burning red like a bright fire while hers matched the multicolours of her wings. "I've never seen a High Fae before."

Eris caught her eye, giving her one of his warmest smiles, or trying to, his thoughts should've been on her wings and how much they would earn him glory if they were the product of his hunt, but somehow they weren't. "Well, I've never met a fairy such as yourself, and may I say, you are exquisite." He took a step towards her and like clockwork, she took one back, "Not the trusting kind are you?" He chuckles.

"Your smile isn't pure." The fairy in front of him tucked her wings behind her tight, her warm expression turning into a frown.

Eris held in a scoff, of course, she could feel the 'purity' of his emotions. "You wound me, darling," Eris placed his hand over his heart, faking a grimace.

The fairy giggled at his grimace, "That didn't actually hurt you, did it?"

"Clearly," Eris cracked a real smile at the sound of her laugh.

"See, that's a proper smile," She mirrored his look.

"Fine, you have me." Eris leaned against a tree bark, "I've never seen a fairy before, I'm... Mesmerised." Eris was honest, there was something about her that pulled him to her.

"Most people are," The fairy smiled. "It's a natural reaction."

"I'm Eris Vanserra, heir of Autumn," The male dipped his chin in the form of a formal bow, "I'm a pleasure to make your aquantance."

"Celastina, my lord." Celastrina gave him a curt bow, one leg crossed behind the other.

"Quite a pretty name, butterfly." Eris hummed, taking in her bow, "And quite a perfect form for a bow from someone who lives in the deep woods."

"I'm a lesser fae, my lord." Celastrine stood up, smiling, "Not a savage."

"Of course, forgive me for asuming-" Eris paused, picking up the sound of footsteps and the growls of hounds approaching them. "Hunters are approaching us, you should hide."

Celastrina's eyes snapped to the rustling from deeper into the woods, "Are those smoke hounds I hear?" Eris was sure he had hit his head somewhere because the fairy smiled as she spoke, her doe eyes wide from excitement.

"Yes, butterfly, hounds, not damn puppies." Eris scoffed at her reaction, "They are used to hunt your kind. Run." He didn't know why he wanted her to escape, he could've taken her himself, but instead he stressed, "Run." If she would found with him he would have hell to pay with Beron for making conversation with a lesser fae of all things.

Celastrina in an instant turned small, her form nearly the size of his pinky and shot up into the tree, in a second Eris couldn't place where she had gone and he exhaled a deep breath to calm himself before the hunters found him.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate}

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

if you would all allow me to be delusional for a moment - so i went back to staring Very Hard at the neighborhood map and. um. well. im chucking my marbles out the window! as always take all of this with a Hefty grain of salt!

i thought i saw a weird pixel in Frank's window so i zoomed in. then i took a screenshot, and fucked with the contrast/brightness settings. and uhhhhhh

UHHHHHH

FRANK??? HELLO???? HE'S IN THERE? i'm pretty sure im Not seeing things bc that is definitely a vague gray tube-outline with a yellow spot in the shape of Frank's nose. hidden in the dark. and i might be seeing things but in the pane next to his face it kinda looks like his hand is on the window? but! Frank's in there! what the fuck!

so naturally i slowly scrolled through the neighborhood Zoomed The Fuck In. obvi there's nothing in Home's eyes, and Barnaby's & Sally's single visible windows(?) are closed. I couldn't find any out-of-place pixels in Julie's or Poppy's.

but! Eddie's kinda freaked me out a little! look at this shit!

on the top left pane... are those fingerprints pressing into the glass? and in the lower left, is that a fucking Face peering out? a creepy ass face that almost looks like some sort of mask? there seems to be another Shape in the upper right... another face perhaps?

and then there's the weird window shine in the lower right (along with maybe Another face...). it almost looks like a string of letters. there isn't a single pattern/design like that anywhere else in the neighborhood. what's up with that....

oh and also, just went back to double check the post office's display window

there seems to be another face - all the way to the right in the darkness. judging by the shape of the paler (yellowish?) pixels between what must be eyes, i think that's Eddie. and i think i see ears and a hat... not sure though. this one is really tough to see but it's There

(side note: Eddie is totally fucked, isn't he? between the faces(?) and hands behind his door, Home sitting in his display, and the hyacinths by his building, the emphasis on his memory (or lack-thereof) in a project that is, in a sense, About memory... i'm concerned! and eating it tf up! hell yeah lets get funky!)

now i couldn't see any, like, concrete Faces or anything in Howdy's store. but! you can kinda see inside! observe~

in the big open window, you can kinda make out some sort of container on a counter and what might be shelves or a kind of brick pattern. and then above the 100% sign... hold on are those fuckign Eyes? lets take a look zoomed in & without the image adjustments!

yeah those uh. i think those are eyes. Wally-esque eyes peering out of the darkness. though they also mildly remind me of eyespots on insect wings. butterfly eyespots, perhaps. inch resting indeed...

WAIT I LIED!!! there DOES seem to be another string of letter-like symbols in the neighborhood, not just the post office's window shine. now it could be just a wild coincidence, but at the same time it seems kind of... purposeful. like that's not normal shading/coloring.

check out the blue window border on Howdy's Place, next to the apples. the lighter blue pixels seem Arranged. i think i see a clear N, and either an R or a P... along with some other symbols that i don't recognize as anything. the lower ones look kinda like faces? what could the top one be? is any of it anything or am i looking too hard?

in short: they're watching us watch them and there's way more to the map than initially meets the eye....

(edit: i've added a reblog w/ the images outlined! badly outlined but a clearer View of what i see nonetheless! + some notes on more little things outlining helped me notice)

[oneforthemunny]

A song that reminds you of each of your Eddie's + reader- and GO!

ooh wait this is a fun one. ok i had to think about this one but i think i've found them:

boxer!eddie and reader remind me of somethin' stupid by frank sinatra and nancy sinatra. two little black cats in love, and the chorus "and have a drink or two, and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "i love you". i can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before. and though it's just a line to you, for me it's true and never seemed so right before."

rockstar!eddie and nepobaby!reader will forever remind me of faithfully by journey. i mean, "and lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be. oh, girl, you stand by me. circus life under the big-top world. we all need the clowns to make us smile. through space and time, always another show. wonderin' where I am lost without you. i'm forever yours, faithfully."

this one is going to be so fucking corny and idgaf!!! but for modern!eddie and mean girl, idk why true love by p!nk always comes to mind. "at the same time, i wanna hug you, i wanna wrap my hands around your neck. you're the only love i've ever known. but i hate you, i really hate you, so much i think it must be true love. just once try to wrap your little brain around my feelings, just once please try no to be so mean."

cowboy!eddie and sweet girl have always and will forever remind me of love is like a butterfly by the one and mother fucking only dolly parton our lord and savior. "love makes your heart feel strange inside, it flutters like soft wings in flight. love is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing. i feel it when you kiss me, it happens when you're with me, that rare and gentle feelin' that i feel inside. everyday is springtime, and i am only happy when you are by my side." tbh i could quote the whole goddam song.

bouncer!eddie and bartender!reader this is another corny as fuck on so hold on, but it's you shook me all night long by acdc lmaooo. sexual chemistry through the roof, so much that it's shocking and appalling?? "she was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean. she was the best damn woman that I ever seen. she's one of a kind, she's just mine, all mine." idk it's silly and slutty and fun just like them!

for janitor!eddie and teacher!reader i've always felt like forever by the beach boys is their song. super sappy and romantic and devoted and that's how they are to each other <3 "if every word i said could make you laugh, i'd talk forever. i asked the sky just what we had, it shone forever. let the love i have for you, live in your heart and be forever. forever, i've been so happy loving you."

older!eddie and reader, this one was hard bc i felt like there was so many to chose from, but ultimately i went with the one song that always takes me back to them and that's chemtrails over the country club by lana. the more i listen, the more it's their song bc "go to the market, the kids' swimming pools. me and my sister just playing it cool, under the chemtrails over the country club. meet you for coffee at the elementary schools. we laugh about nothing as the summer gets cool. it's beautiful how this deep normality settles down over me. i'm not bored or unhappy, i'm still so strange and wild. washing my hair, doing the laundry. late-night tv, i want you only. it's never too late, baby, so don't give up."domestic and sweet.

this is also so silly and sweet and the best thing ever but for hockey!eddie and reader i fucking love the song hello, hello by elton john (yes from gnomeo and juliet lmaoooo). "never gonna find anything to change my mind, famous last lines of a fool. hello, hello. my, my, my, what have we here? sniffing all the flowers, running through an autumn shower, compare it to someone else like me." so fucking silly and so romantic like it's them. happy and silly and in love.

and i know you guys are making fun of me and i don't give one fuck bc i know you're about to do it again with this one bc it's coming completely out of left fucking field for these two!! for mafia!eddie and reader... babe i'm saying it, it's i see the light from tangled yes it fucking is. "all that time never even knowing, just how blind i've been. now i'm here, blinking in the starlight. and it's warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted. all at once everything looks different, now that i see you. all those years living in a blur. if she's here, it's crystal clear, i'm where i'm meant to go." and listen, i could write a goddam essay on how this is them, both of them. living their lives before, thinking they're content, until they met the other and now they're confused how they were ever without the other. real ride or die shit.

for dom!eddie and sub!reader, i always think of i don't want to miss a thing by aerosmith lol. really bc they're a little chaotic but they really do love each other sm. true soulmate shit. "i could spend my life in this sweet surrender, where a moment with you is a moment i treasure. i don't wanna miss one smile, i don't wanna miss one kiss. i just wanna be with you, right her with you, just like this. and i just wanna hold you close, feel your heart so close to mine, and just stay here in this moment for all the rest of time." overly passionate and lovey and dramatic which is just their style.

[fawnsflowerbed]

Hiiii Bee, I was scrolling through and found the aftercare subspace headcanons but I’m thirsty af, so could I get a drabble or hc of subspace-y reader in the moment? Love your writing ❤️

Sat down and SPED through this request I LOVE sweet syrupy subspace reader URGHHHHHH bangs my fist against the table

Little drabble of reader in subspace while Leon ‘takes care’ of them.

NSFW OBVIOUSLY!!! AFAB (but gender neutral) reader, p in v, sweet talk and praise, soft dom Leon, descriptions of subspace, very fluffy sex!

(Word count: 1090 est.)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ ˚₊

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ ˚₊

It’s a true privilege for him to see you like this. To have pounded, ground and fucked you well enough to send you sinking down into such a soft state of mind. It’s the best type of quicksand, not that awful stuff dramatised in films. Slow, slow, sunk. To the bottom where your feet rest at the end of the bed, and your back arches from the blankets so your chest may kiss the cool air of the bedroom. Embrace the cold with the heat of the moment.

It’s plush where you lay right now, how you feel lightweight. Clouded with the pleasure being thrusted upon you, open lips drinking in the security your boyfriend offers you. Your brain’s slowed down to nothing but honey, stuffed with fluff till you’re as cottony as a pillow. Something to rest that weary head.

And it’s all thanks to Leon.

That fogged over haze in your eyes told Leon enough, the way you stared so longingly at him. As if he were out of reach, so close yet so far. You couldn’t help but whimper at the cruelty of it all. How unfair that you can’t crawl into his skin and live within the warmth he’s created for you. Take shelter in his existence. But this? This will most definitely do.

“Shh, I know sweetie. I know.”

It’s a coo. A gentle shush, like someone would a whining puppy. Whimpering, gasping, mewing every time he rocks down into your soaked through pussy. You were a sweet thing but oh so sloppy. Truly adorable.

A scratched over palm holds your cheek between the grinding of his cock into you. Something sickly sweet despite how rough his fingers are. But he’s never rough with you. Not in the ways he’d find wrong, at least. Can’t stand the thought of ruining this for his angel. Especially when you’re like this. Eyelids fluttering closed, butterfly wings beating to a restful stop. Taking a break from drawing the nectar from his heart with those round glossy eyes of yours. How generous of you.

He’s raspy. Not smooth and silky like you, but rather like that of gravel on country roads and whiskey on the rocks. Burning taste to linger in your throat when he caters to your every need like this. Sipping at his lips every few minutes to take in that tang.

The gravel in his voice churns, like that of tumbling rocks to turn mud-covered stone to crystal. “Feels real good, doesn’t it?”

He knows the answer. Leon always does. But how is he supposed to resist when sweet and milky sounds trickle to your chin. “Mhm..” He’d drink you in a million times more, and then some.

“Yeah? That’s good, sweetheart.”

He’s got your legs thrown over his shoulders, keeping you spread for him. Such vulnerability beneath him, out in the open. Something that can’t be put back. He takes care of you in ways many people just couldn’t. Understands that this goes deeper than flesh and bone, deeper than just sex. You chew on the knuckle of one of your fingers just to suppress each weak sound that trickles from your mouth. Drooling every syllable down onto his ego so he might clean it off with a washcloth once you come back down from this high.

And god how he loves it.

“Where’s my baby?”

Fuck, those words. It draws you in like the promise of something rich and raw, of lusting and loving only ever spoken of in those overpriced novels. But he makes good on that promise once you meet his eyes. Gives you that lazy half-smile that screams pure adoration without a pluck at his vocal chords.

“There they are. Hi, darlin’.”

It draws a quiet gasp from your spit-soaked lips when Leon changes the angle, rather choosing to roll his hips in long, hard motions. Makes sure you can grip onto him in some way, this time it’s his arms. He’ll always do that for you. Be your anchor. You need it in your current mindset, where everything floats atop the clouds. Strung up on coloured balloons your mind dare not pop. Be gentle, be tender. Lay beneath your love and take what he gives. You’re so blissfully unaware of everything else in the world. And yeah, this brings tears to your lash line. All of this, every inch of his care and every centimetre of his love. Hard to tell if you’re crying from the drowsy euphoria of subspace or from how his dick rubs over your g-spot on every stroke. Leon really does know you  inside and out. The feeling has you squeezing him in short bursts, as if even your cunt can’t keep up with what’s going on. You’re just feeling far too slow. Too comfortable in your dumb, syrupy state.

He is safety. Even as he picks up the pace to hump nice and deep into your squelching pussy, making you whine and moan. He’s filling the hole in your head, your heart, and your body. Drawing the sweetest string of noises from your throat. If he had the time he’d hang that twined melody above the bed frame like polaroid pictures, look up at them every night before sleep so he can cherish every aspect of you. Especially this one. The one you only entrust him with.

It’s such an overwhelming sense of bliss to go mindless, to bestow all of your trust in another human. But you hand your heart and soul to Leon and in return he cradles and kisses it, presses his lips to your forehead. He goes on to take your finger from your mouth, holds your hand in his own. He’s careful as he pushes the back of your knuckles into the cushioned mattress. You’re porcelain to him in this condition, worried if he makes one wrong move you may crash and shatter. So he rubs every scratch and crevice, Kintsugi level stuff. Takes your wounds, your insecurities and worries, and traces them with gold so he might help rebuild you. It makes your head lull back against the frilled edges of your pillow, every ruffle outlining your silhouette. Forms a few points in all the right spots, curves to form such a shape.

“Mmph.. Leon..”

A crown. Maybe even a halo. Resting against the pillows like something out of a storybook.

Don’t worry honey, he’s gonna rewrite your brain for you. Make sure the clouds know your name and presence for the next hour.

“Shh, puppy. I’ve gotcha.”

 You’re safe with him.

[phonydiaries]

I am begging politely for something with number 20 from your one word prompt list?? Maybe something fluffy to save me from the angst of whatever bloodbrown has asked for? (Luv you bloodbrown)

Hope you are doing well <3

I am SO excited that not one but two people asked for 20 because I was so so hoping for an excuse to extrapolate on my promise headcanon from this post so here it is! Thank you so much for the ask <3 megafluff ahead!

Promise Me - P x Reader

It was well known that sunny days were not so easy to come by in Krat, a city most commonly overtaken with a stark and looming gloominess. So on a rare sunny day, eager to take advantage of the warmth which so often eluded you at the hotel, you practically dragged P to the kitchen in search of decent picnic-ing supplies. There, you loaded up your pack with sandwiches and fruit and a bottle of some sparkling something-or-other. Pino of course couldn’t really partake in the food, but it was more the aesthetic of the picnic that really mattered, and he had seemed interested in the whole ordeal besides. 

Along with all the goodies, you stuffed a carefully folded blanket and a hardcover book into the pack. Lately you’d spent a great deal of time wandering the library with your trusted puppet, and he’d taken quite the liking to simply lazing about as you read to him in hushed tones, often with his head settled comfortably in your lap, listening intently. 

Now, as you headed for the shimmering daylight of the courtyard you realized one very important piece of the picnic was missing; P himself. You huffed, sure that the damn puppet had wandered off again, as he so loved to do. It was not the first time he’d silently slipped away from you, either distracted or whisked away or otherwise lost in his own thoughts, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

For the better part of the next hour, you were relegated to the rather painstaking and exhaustive task of lapping the hotel in search of the lost puppet. At one point you even entailed the help of the other hotel’s guests, but neither Sophia nor Eugenie could offer any better guess at where he might’ve disappeared to. Finally, tired, rumpled, and out of breath from your efforts, you stalk back to the courtyard, your head hanging low in anticipation of a far less rewarding picnic alone. 

As you round the path, digging around aimlessly in your bag, you come to an abrupt halt. The picnic pack falls to the ground with a light thunk and the puppet crouched in front of you glances up. He grins in blissful ignorance of the tremendous effort you’d just expended in search of him. He motions for you to come closer and points to a blue butterfly which emerges, glistening, from its cocoon, buried away in the branches of a rosebush. He’s seemingly enamored by the unfurling of the insects iridescent wings, and offers a finger of his legion hand to it gently. 

Lovely, just lovely. You think.

I’ve lost him to a butterfly.

Exasperated, you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “Yes, it’s very beautiful P, don’t get me wrong, but your habit of running off like this is frankly…” you pause, wondering how to put it delicately. “Just. The worst.” 

P’s shoulders sink and he looks almost hurt by this, though you can tell that even he can’t deny his tendency to explore precariously and without warning. It had landed you in loads of trouble at the worst of times, namely active combat, but this was neither here nor there. 

“You know what, I ought to make you promise to knock it off.” P opens his mouth, about to speak before you press a finger to his lips. “No no- a regular old promise won’t do either. Pinky swear it.” You say, offering your finger to him. He only stares blankly at it for a moment, then tips his head quizzically at you. This must be a new concept to him, you realize, and a creeping mischievousness takes root in your mind. With faux bewilderment, you gawk at him. “Your father never told you about pinky promises?” 

Pinocchio shakes his head fervently, now obviously eager to gain this oh-so-coveted knowledge. You take both his hands in yours and speak sotto-voce, as if the matter were of great importance. “It’s an ancient human tradition, a vow of the utmost seriousness. It’s a promise so great that once spoken aloud it would bond the two of us forever!” 

P leans in, enamored, and gestures between the two of you with curiosity. He seems, if anything, eager to engage in the grand ritual you’ve made this silly little thing out to be. You turn away with a saddened look. 

“Though I don’t suppose you’d be interested in such a thing. After all, it’s quite the big responsibility-” But P is already tugging you by the hand and nodding vigorously. You can’t help smiling at his enthusiasm; he is after all, nothing if not incorrigible. 

Swiftly, you situate yourself in the grass across from P. 

“Now,” you start, taking the puppet’s wrist in your hand and turning it over as if in careful examination. “This is a very serious business. I mean it.” P’s chin juts forward and he looks up at you, his head tilted in rapt attention. He looks like such a little boy, you think, sitting criss-crossed in the grass, hanging on your every word. 

“Once the oath is taken we can never ever break our promise. Ever. Are you sure you’re ready for that, P? To pledge your fealty right here, right now?” You ask, punctuating each grave word with a squeeze to his hand. P’s brows knit together in unbearable sincerity as he offers you a lone dutiful nod. 

You exhale deeply, giving P one last solemn look. “Well then. I warned you.” 

You hold your own hand out, elbow resting on your knee, your pinky finger extended in P’s direction. He watches you and with precision copies your posturing. He takes a moment though, to deliberate between his legion and human halves, before propping the fleshy arm upon his knee just the same as you. 

You straighten up a bit and clear your throat, speaking in a manner uncharacteristically clear and commanding. 

“By the power vested in this hand, I, and Pinocchio too of course-” You say, gesturing towards the boy. You assume, being a puppet of few words, he won’t mind you speaking for him. “Swear to always stand by each other's side, ever valiant.” 

P’s gaze is locked with yours as you speak, hanging on your every word. He is painfully earnest, and in a moment of overwhelming fondness for the poor puppet you add, perhaps getting a bit carried away with the whole thing “And.. and to always protect one another, never allowing harm to befall their most trusted friend.” 

You expect some surprise or even protest at this added condition, but instead Pinocchio settles the palm of his legion arm calmly over his heart, leaning ever closer with all the conviction in the world. 

And with that your finger brushes his, and you find much to your surprise, that you’ve begun to believe in your own dumb joke. Somehow, as your tiny fingers lock together, you feel the tremendous weight of this promise in the depths of your heart. You wonder if somehow by mistake you made magic here, in the soft green grass with a puppet much too naive and trusting and eager for his own good. You decide if there truly was an unbreakable contract forged between the two of you this day, you don’t mind. You don’t mind at all. 

When you glance at Pino, you find his eyes squeezed shut, his pinky finger wound tight around yours as if bracing himself. 

“Your oath is sealed.” You say, and watch P’s eyes open one at a time, uncertain. “Bonded for life. How does it feel?” 

P blinks a couple times in consideration, and allows his fingers to thread neatly through yours. With his other hand, he leans in close and presses it firmly but with the utmost care against your chest, and although you know logically he’s only a puppet, you swear you feel warmth radiating from his touch. He presses his forehead tenderly against yours, so close that you feel the breath of his words dance along the surface of your skin. 

“Safe.” He says simply. 

And although the circumstances are silly, you can’t imagine a truer word.

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Question Mark - Polygonia interrogationis

To all fellow lovers of the insect world and those who are kind to bugs, with this post the blog now has 800 posts to its name! What a milestone to celebrate! I'm delighted to share all these brilliant animals with you and learn more about them with each new post. New species continue to join the blog, the last few months of posts have garnered well-deserved attention, older posts are experiencing a resurgence, and these insects are now shared on YouTube too! Here's to much more blog growth and expansion and to continue sharing insect photography with all of you, my dear readers! As always, to you and to and all those who’ve helped me on this insect journey, I extend my sincerest, heartfelt thanks for everything! As things grow, expand, refine and change, and questions abound over what may come next, I thought that this stunning summer Brush-Foot would be most appropriate to share today as #800. As a reminder, this specie's name is not a mystery, but rather based on the marking found on the underside of the hindwing (best seen on Picture 5).

The Question Mark's question mark marking is a stand out against the rest of the mottled underside that conceals this Butterfly as if it were a dried leaf. While normally cryptic colored, the sunlight shining down on this individual has caused the dorsal and ventral scales to blend together, obscuring the mottling against the display colors of the top (the effect is stronger on the forewings). This (along with mimicking the appearance of a leaf) is why Butterflies hold their wings together in order to remain inconspicuous. While this Butterfly isn't trying to remain hidden, I've last long last delivered on my promise in the previous post to feature this elusive insect. I have delivered a long awaited view of the dorsal side of this Butterfly's wings and am happy to share those beautiful, brassy-orange colors that highlight the summer. With a view like this, it should become apparent how similar the Question Mark can appear when compared to some of its punctuation-themed relatives such as the Eastern Comma (P. comma; yes, really), which necessitates a glance at the underwings to find that all-important marking.

The dorsal side of the wings can reveal other important information about your Butterfly find. For this individual, you may have noticed that while the forewings are vibrantly colored, the hindwings are darkened. This tell us that we are witnessing the summer brood form of this insect. This would certainly fit the emergence timeline which gives summer Question Marks a range of May to September to be seen in the air. From there, they lay eggs on elm trees and nettles which hatch and develop throughout the summer into the winter brood (overwinter brood may be a better name). Unlike the summer brood, winter brood Question Marks have vibrant orange and brown that extends into their hindwings as well. They also seem to have longer hindwing tails compared to the summer form, but I'll need to see a few more individuals in the wild before I can declare that with any certainty. These adults will fly from late August until temperatures fall, upon which they will seek out sights to overwinter as adults and begin the cycle anew with summer individuals like the one found in the yard for today's post. I hope fortune smiles upon you to find one of those (or perhaps their Caterpillars), but approach slowly, for they are quite skittish and swift!

Pictures were taken on June 23 and 25, 2024 with a Google Pixel 4. Happy 800th post! Thank you everyone for reading, watching and guiding my photography journey! I couldn't do this without you. And thank you to all the insects as well!

[doodle-pops]

The Intoxication of Pleasure

Maglor x reader x Celegorm

A/N: A very happy birthday to my best chaotic girlie who shares a single braincell with me @someoneinthestars!! I hope you enjoy what my brain cells have put together for you!! Luv yah!! I've been impatiently waiting for more than 2 months to post this :)

Warnings: fem!reader, threesome, dom–sub dynamics, double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal), cunnilingus, slight rimming, anal and vaginal penetration, sub!reader, soft dom!Maglor, rough dom!Celegorm, doggystyle, impact play (spanking), body-worshipping, praising, pet names (princess, kitten, vixen, sweetheart), titty sucking, overstimulation, mirror kink, jealousy, unrealistic sex, voyuerism and exhibitionism, mention of reader being a recently deflower

Words: 8.3k

Synopsis: You find yourself caught between the bedsheets in a spontaneous rendezvous with two desirable Noldorin Princes.

“Easy princess, deep breaths…atta girl. You’re doing so well for me.” His voice was more compelling and intoxicating than you last recalled. No, that was a lie; his voice always made you drunk and left you stumbling about the place, lost out of your mind. It stripped you bare and laid you on a table before him like some sacrificial offering—not that you minded. Or perhaps, you did mind. When other maidens flocked to the Noldorin prince like the dangerously, beautiful devil he was, and he returned all their attention, how could you compete? You had nothing to compare, not even a candle to their flame, and yet through the miracle of the unspoken prayer, you found yourself basking in ultimate pleasure.

Riddled by the toxicity of his fingers as they searched for your sweet spot, desperate to listen to the endless chorus of your moans to which he devoured, they crooked and twisted devilishly. His lips gave your neck kisses, planting a litter of purple artwork as he trailed up and down, relishing in the vibrations and echoes in each chord he struck. So easily with a curl of his middle finger, he brushed your sweet spot and relinquished a relieving sigh from your lips. Without hesitation, his saccharine lips, dripping with honey fell upon yours to suck the melody out.

A prince as highly esteemed and noble as he would place his lips upon those of a nobody. A nobody who could not even look at themselves in the mirror. What did he see in you, surely not your beauty?

“You’re thinking too much My Lady—I can see the tension in your face…” His whisper trailed off as he leaned forward to carry his lips away from yours and kiss the centre of your brow. “Relax, tonight is all about you.”

You hadn’t the courage to reply, you still didn’t know how you responded the first time he offered to take you to bed. Did you nod, squeak, moan, bark, howl? For a guaranteed fact, your words were not used—so you believed. Nevertheless, whichever response you gave, it allowed you to lie bare beside the completely garmented Prince with his fingers buried deeply within your cunt, searching for the treasure you locked away. His touches were fleeting, everywhere all at once, and leaving your skin on fire. Goosebumps rose with each touch and ghosting of his breath.

“M-My P-…Prince…ah!” you gasped as your words were cut off from the skilful act of having your chords struck. A whine followed along with your hands curling into his shirt and popping a few buttons off. His skills were phenomenal to pull such an easy reaction out of you—now you understood why he was the greatest harpist of all time. Brushing his lips against your cheek, his lashes fluttered like a butterfly’s wings against your skin. His breathing was ghosting your skin and leaving goosebumps scattered everywhere. It didn’t matter the direction he came from or the strategy he used; you were putty in his hands.

“Ah, ah, ah. Maglor darling, it is Maglor,” he sighed, “if I’m taking a beautiful maiden like yourself to bed, we might as well become comfortable…because you will be moaning it later.”

There it was again. The undeniable, attractiveness of his voice and charisma. Every syllable that rolled off his tongue was perfection sucking you in like quicksand. Somewhere out in the desert he found and brought you into his mirage, treating you like a desert rose. The only difference was his mirage being perceptible.

Shutting your eyes because the sensation was too much, far less the intensity of his baby-blue eyes locked on your features, you tossed your head into his collarbones. Your position in his eyes appeared discomforting, leading him to hook your right leg over his left hip. Lying side by side and facing each other while his finger languorously thrust in and out your cunt, it was easier for him to pepper your face with more kisses and fill your mind with praises. Maglor was observant enough to distinguish the difference between a confident and unconfident woman. If you were bedding him, he wanted you to hold your head high as he took you into a field of pleasure.

Show him proudly that his pleasure was satisfying for a woman of your calibre. Show him his ability to make the intangible matter as much as the tangible. Prove to him that you value yourself above all others and praise your beauty as being the reason he was captivated to lust after you, a desert rose. Your delicacy and elegance despite your lack of experience was all too enthralling to not have you to himself—an admittance he would soon come to grumble over.

Pulling his two fingers out, listening to your whines and chuckling lowly, they danced around your entrance. A third finger had joined the mix and dipped in and out your entrance to secrete itself in your arousal; if you were going to take him, minimal pain to make the excitement pleasurable. Maglor refused to indulge in the inexperienced business of re-entering a recently deflowered lady. You were still sensitive to touch and pleasure, delicacy must be ensured. “Can you take a deep breath for me princess—just breath in…breath out…”

Following his words, hooked on every syllable like it was ambrosia, your breathing stilled before your chest heaved slowly to inhale and then exhale. The moment your body relaxed, there was the breaching of his fingers with the addition of tightness. The slight discomfort you first faced when he used two fingers returned as he used three. Somewhere in the distance while you focused on clenching and unclenching around his digits, Maglor was moaning and gasping under his breath at the awaiting tightness he would soon experience.

“You’re going so good for me, love,” he praised once again.

Your replies were broken moans and mewl the more his finger slunk further along your gummy walls. You felt stuffed from just his fingers; you knew he was more than those fingers judging from the bulge you felt earlier. Once all three digits were nestled nicely within your cunt, they flexed and crooked immediately to attack your sweet spot, not bothering to thrust or twist, competently. Maglor knew from the sheer pressure building up as your pleasure increased, that it wouldn’t take long for you to achieve the high he sought from the start.

The painfully digging of your nails as they switched from the front of his shirt to his biceps, curled and dug into his skin leaving moon crescents. At this point, he had no care for what happened to his garments—you could tear them apart for all he cared—they no longer mattered. You were the prize, the target, the treasure he sorted and lusted after; to have you he shall.

Continuing the arching of his fingers, his thumb stretched upwards and rested casually on your clit to rub lazy circles. It was the response he expected, your legs became incapacitated and spasmed around his slender waistline. Your body was torn between wanting to run away or stay bound to the pleasure, and Maglor was pleasantly gracious to assist you with a complex decision when his right hand snaked around your back and locked you in place. A heavenly sight you were the more you convulsed and moaned breathlessly in his arms. You clung to him like a leech the more his fingers abused your sweet spot.

“Just like that sweetheart…just like that. You’re almost there,” he cooed as he pressed his lips to your forehead, “come now my flower, cum for me.”

His words were a compulsive drug for within the moment they left his lips, your body reacted instantaneously. Clenching around his fingers and placing them within a vice grip, it felt like your walls were attempting to mould themselves and take their shape—an interesting act your body displayed. Your mind might have been foggy and attempting to unscramble the reason why a beautiful Prince would desire you, but your cunt was blatantly giving hearts and hugs as though it already knew why. Consider yourself slow or uncertain to believe that the Prince found you attractive.

Vibrating in his arms as your dams broke and coils snapped, tears sprung from your eyes. The little droplets of saline rolled down your cheek and dampened the collar of Maglor’s shirt, adding to the endless drool that soaked the material—not that he didn’t mind. “Shush, it’s alright darling, it’s alright. Just take a deep breath and breathe…”

Lifting your head out the crevice of his neck, you stared at him through your blurry eyes and sniffled. You never had the pleasure of experiencing an orgasm, be it solo or with a helping hand, and it was orgasmic. The slight shivers of your body were slowly fading, leaving behind random jolts to attack your senses. It didn’t help when Maglor nudged his head against yours to meet his devilish eyes before the feeling of a pair of lips colliding against yours. He was sending you into another bliss when his tongue slipped past your lips after the gentle nibbling of his teeth on your lower lip. You had no experience kissing the linguistically famed artist, even if though you engaged with him minutes earlier, no progress was made.

The left hand that was wedged between your thighs withdrew, smearing your arousal on your skin as it travelled upwards to grip your jaw and keep your steady. It felt like fire and ice blazing your skin at the same time. The thought of him smearing your arousal across your skin would have been a revolting act but caught up in the rapture of sweet passion, it turned you on more—much to your self-esteem. Your arousal flowed the more you locked lips and tongue and thought about his decorating you like his favourite artwork. It wasn’t often, or never, someone loved the image of your silhouette. You were caught in trepidation, resisting the urge to gag at the revelation of the Prince truly wanting to savour your temple.

Wanting to deepen the kiss, Maglor pushed against the tides and rolled you onto your back, hovering above. Knees between your legs, he pushed aside his robes to give you more samples of what was to come. He rubbed his bulge against your aching core, snickering at the high-pitched whines that escaped your lips and the frantic spasming of your legs. The sensation was too much, it was overstimulating, not that he cared. He was greedy and drowning in lust.

“You sound so beautiful when you sing like that.” He pulled away to kiss your neck. “I love the sounds you make for me.” Another was placed under your earlobe before his lips dragged lower to attach themselves at the junction. A vividly bright flower was left for the world to see and know he claimed you as his.

Squirming under him, your hips wiggled and rocked against his erection as the pleasure grew substantially. “Ma-…Maglor, fuck! Please, please…more,” you begged and tossed your head backwards.

At first, he hummed at your request before breaking into a chuckle. Feeling a sense of pride whelming in his chest, he leaned closer to whisper into your skin, “You want me to give you more princess? Is it that good?”

“It would be if you stopped teasing her so damn much and give her what she desired. I’ll tell you what, you really are the worst when it comes to teasing people Káno.”

Your body froze at the intrusion of another invading your privacy while Maglor visibly sagged, annoyed. Clinging to the prince and attempting to shuffle your body to hide from the scrutinising eyes of the dangerously seductive silver-haired male who came to stand to your right, you cowered. Above you, Maglor did nothing as he rolled his eyes and heaved at his peace being interrupted. Once he noticed your discomfort, he rolled over to your right and hid you from his brother. His right hand pressed you into his chest while you shrunk your body to hide the rest.

A round of boisterous laughter ricocheted off the walls. The prince was amused by your actions; you were still unconscious of your femme fatal prowess. He spent a solid five minutes observing the shyness in your motions and voice; his brother was doing one hell of a poor job at making you feel like the Goddess he would worship you as.  

Keeping his eyes on you, Maglor brushed a lock of hair out of your face and offered a sympathetic smile. “Have you no manners to knock, Tyelko?”

“Oh, I did háno, but her moans were clearly drowning your hearing abilities. I must say,” he hummed, then kissed his teeth, “she sounds delightful. Like a Goddess worthy of being worshipped.”

As the words left his lips, Maglor felt you sigh at the indirect praise before he tensed and cast his brother a side–eye. The glint in his eyes glowed under the luminescence of the fireplace as he was locked in a heated battle of determining his brother’s genuine intentions. No interruptions were done within purpose, especially ones like this. To make matters more trivial, of all the brothers, Maglor was the last person Tyelko would intercept given their…differences. Whatever the reason was, it had to be noteworthy.

“State your purpose,” he demanded, casting his head to give his full attention.

No response came—no verbal response. A hungry grin was returned with eyes roaming your lithe figure hidden from his lustful gaze. Maglor wasn’t the only person who was enthralled by you all night; two Feanorians you managed to capture and wrap around your dainty fingers; you were indeed a spectacle. Tyelko’s response was enough to drive Maglor off the edge in a spiral into fury. In return, Tyelko was faced with a harsh glare that would have seen shivers up his spine if the moment was…momentous.

“We do not require the presence of an unwanted guest. Leave!”

Finding his brother’s response more of a catalyst to jest than feeling threatened, Tyelko refused to leave. He remained tall and straight with his arms folded behind his back and head high. His green and brown robes, edged with golden embellishments rested seamlessly against his body and only shifted to the tune of his movements. His forest-green eyes glimmered and darkened.

“Oh, come now háno. It was no jest, nor my intention to make your skills appear inconsequential to mine. Consider it a…gift, to the lovely young, innocent lady in your arms. Why experience one when she can have two…for the first time? She deserves to be adulated in many ways; we can give that to her. What do you say?”

There was no mistaking his words as an act of compulsion, getting under your skin and kissing every inch of your body, and leaving you craving for more. Your insides clenched and tingled as his honey-like words lingered in the air, and butterflies pooled in the pit of your abdomen. Two Feanorian princes desired me.

“I don’t—”

“Not you háno, the little Goddess wrapped up like a present in your arms. What do you say to the proposal kitten?”

Stunned by the abrupt confrontation between both brothers, you felt as though you were intruding on something personal for a moment. The tension had risen, too dense to be cut with anything, and the sexual tension was following. Peeking your eyes over Maglor’s right shoulder, you caught the ravenous eyes of the predator eyeing you like a prize. It placed you in a chokehold. If he could growl and snarl to prove his dominance at this moment, he would; only his brother prevented the animalistic behaviour. His eyes were beckoning you to choose the answer your self-esteem would never allow.

Parting your lips to reply, you breathed and stared. You could sense Maglor’s stare on your face, reading and perceiving your micro-expressions; in combination with his brother’s stare, your arousal was increasing. The act of Tyelko pulling his lips back to reveal his pearly whites told you that he was aware. Nevertheless, you were unable to formulate a response.

“Still hesitant about why we would take you to bed? Oh, oh, kitten! We would never take a nobody to bed. Only a woman of your calibre and magnificence would catch our eyes; a sanctuary deserving of being praised.” Using the opportunity provided, he stepped forward and held his hand out for you to take, ignoring that darkened glare Maglor threw. “Why don’t you let me show you something. Don’t worry, I’m not stealing you away.”

Switching stares between his hand and Maglor’s face, you didn’t want to make a decision to upset the older, but you didn’t want to pass up an opportunity. With hesitation in your movements, once there was no one to prohibit you, your hand reached out to rest in his. Gentle were his actions as he pried you off the bed and guided you to stand before the body-length mirror.

Your eyes were anywhere but the mirror as they roamed behind to glance at Maglor who silently sat against the bedhead with his arms behind his head and lips pressed tightly. It was another hand that cupped your face and focused your attention on the image of you standing bare before the mirror. Tyelko’s towering figure stood ominously with gestures of the unknown. His famished gaze that roamed your body prompted your hands to cover up your erogenous zones, however, he was quicker. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, princess,” he whispered and dipped his head in the crook of your neck to land an unexpected kiss. “Don’t cover up your beauty.”

“Y-Your Highness…ngghh.” His actions made your words fall short once his tongue peaked past his lips and licked a bold stripe up your neck. Stopping behind your earlobe, his teeth came down to bite your flesh followed by his tongue licking the area to soothe the sting. His hands first started at your thighs, roaming the area and rubbing your skin with his calloused palms. It was a foreign sensation compared to Maglor’s softer skin, but nonetheless, enjoyable.

“I find it insulting that you allowed my dear brother a sample of your honey and not me. Say, sweetheart, will you give me a taste?” His hot breath sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your entire body. Your eyes shut and your head tossed backwards to rest against his shoulder, giving him access to your neck. You weren’t sure what he was exactly asking for, but you were happy to oblige if he continued with his actions. They were equally addicting as his passive brother who sat like a mannequin on the bed.

Breathing laboriously, you nodded, allowing his hands to continue exploring your body. It wasn’t impossible to distinguish what his question meant when his enormous hands parted your legs and pushed you into his body. They roamed the inner of your legs, dancing torturously close to where you would kill to have him. “Open your eyes kitten, look at how beautiful you appear as I undo you,” he ordered. Even his patience was dwindling when the bulge in his leggings was aching at the sight of your glistened folds.

Finding it impractical to look at yourself being touched, you shook your head and looked at the ceiling. From the corner of your eyes, you noticed his silver hair shifting out of the way to reveal his domineering glare. “I’m not asking. I said look!” he demanded.

It was only natural that your body obeyed his wishes and locked eyes with your hazy, fucked out state. Your eyes roamed the mirror and landed on his hands running up and down your body, cupping and squeezing your breast before tweaking your nipples. While he did so, his hips casually grounded against your ass to ease the ache. A fire had engulfed your body as the mixture of his mouth and hands set you ablaze. His movements were aggressive, you could hear the guttural groans escaping his throat the more he groped your body.

Along the line, his fingers brushed lightly against your fold, occasionally parting them to slip into your entrance and collect your arousal. You found it impossible, now that the sight before you was hypnotic, to look away from his hand motion. There was a moment when the air became still, and all other movement ceased as his middle finger dipped in your folds and then brought to his lips for a taste. Your breathing froze as you marvelled at the action. That’s what he meant.

His vibrations passed through your chest as he hummed in delight at your taste. As a reward, his hand tilted your head to meet his lips in a vigorous kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was slightly salty, not too sweet, not too tangy, manageable.

“Only a Goddess could taste so divine, and I desire more—”

His words were hurried and broken, not able to spit the rest of his sentence out as he pressed you against the cold glass and dropped to his knees. You couldn’t move out of the constrictive hold he had on your waist or from the way your breasts were squished against the mirror. All you felt was the parting of your cheeks and a hot tongue against your cunt. A series of unidentifiable squeals and gasps left your lips at the crude act but turned into a deep inhale when his tongue travelled further south. He was shamelessly eating you out from behind, slurping and groaning as your arousal smeared his cheeks and dripped into his mouth.

Tyelko’s entire face was buried between your cheeks without any care as he continued to enjoy his dessert. His tongue probed around your clit, flicking the tiny nub like a switch before bringing it into a suction and rolling it around. The more he tasted you on his tongue, the deeper his face was pushed into your heat, almost like he was attempting to suffocate. His actions were animalistic, living up to the duty of being a hunter, as his tongue swirled, and lips nipped at your nub. In between, his tongue would lavishly lick bold stripes from bottom to top to bottom before slithering past your entrance.

“Y-Your High…ness…” Your voice was whiny and shaky as you mumbled incoherent speeches into the lust-filled air. In the background, Maglor had his attire discarded, leaving him naked with his hand wrapped around his cock. The sight of you being eaten out was provocatively sinful and heavenly. If only his brother hadn’t intervened, he would have had his tongue buried in your cunt for hours. Perhaps another time when Tyelko couldn’t be a bother.

With every push against your body causing your back to arch and nipples to rub against the cold glass, you exerted an opposite force prompting Tyelko’s face to bury deeper. He was having the time of his life as his tongue slithered across every surface he could cover. There were moments when his tongue travelled south and probed past the tight ring of muscles. All you could do was listen to the forceful commands of the princes telling you not to take your eyes off the image. You had to watch as he made you cum all over his tongue and dove back for seconds.

“Stop squirming so much!” he groaned with irritation. The oversensitivity was doing things to your body; you didn’t know how to react. It was different from Maglor. His was filled with softer touches and warmth encompassing, but his brother’s was purely rough and focused on sedating his appetite.

His large hands that gripped your waist, slid lower to your thighs and spread them wider. Its action easily allowed his tongue to wiggle its way along your passage and feel your walls clenching around it. Your body’s natural reaction as another wave of pleasure took over was to push against his tongue, riding it. Your consciousness was poking you to come to your senses and remember that it wasn’t ladylike to behave vulgarly, but your frivolous conscience told you to move. In the end, Tyelko didn’t care whether you rode his face or not, he knew you were close, and he needed to taste it again. However, he did notice the hesitation in your timid movements, and when he did, his hands assisted with your motion. Rocking your body and grinding your cunt against his tongue, he groaned and growled in satisfaction. He wanted you to lose yourself.

The jealousy from the sight before him was spurring him on to snatch you out of his brother’s hold and whisk you away. But he was adamant about getting you to see your worth; perhaps his brother’s interference wasn’t a terrible idea, however, he was practically taking you away from him. Narrowing his eyes as he looked on, he read your body and saw your orgasm taking over. Choosing to act now, Maglor scurried off the bed, ushered to your side in time to catch your convulsing body and pulled you against his chest.

A heated glare between the brothers was exchanged while you were losing all form of composure and functionality in Maglor’s arms.

“I told you háno, I’m not here to make you feel inconsequential. There’s no need to get jealous,” Tyelko jested. His mouth was covered in your arousal, and even his cheeks were smeared. Taking a moment to clean his face, licking his lips to savour your taste, he rose from his position to disrobe.

The action forced Maglor to pique in disinterest and anger, but he was shut down by the claim of this being desired by you. Had you not accepted his hand earlier, he would not have stayed to show you pleasure. “Consider it like this háno; we can have her together, and when I’m finished, she’s all yours…unless she seeks me out,” he suggestively chimed with a wiggle of his brows. His hands had already removed his robes and tunic, and now his fingers were unbuttoning his shirt, leaving him standing in his leggings and boots.

Dropping his eyes from forest green to your sweaty face, Maglor’s face softened, as did his voice. “Y/N, do you wish to partake in this union…being taken by both my brother and me?”

Calculatingly drifting out of your state of unconsciousness, your lashes fluttered and captured the image of the God that was holding you in his bare arms. His naked skin, flushed against yours felt fantastic. Your breast pressed against his chest and your nipples tingled with every breath you took. This is what it felt like to be truly desired.

“W-What?” you confusedly asked.

Humoured, he scoffed and graced you with a softened smile. “Is it alright if my brother and I take you at the same time?”

Jerking your head back at the vulgarity of the question, you had never heard of acts like this being performed. “Is that allowed? I have never heard of such an intimate act before; usually, it’s…it’s just two people,” you stuttered with widened eyes.

Your innocence would be the death of them both. The moment your words escaped your lips, they forgot all about the miniature competition and sought to ensure that you experienced the pleasure of two lovers simultaneously. Tyelko was the first to chuckle at your purity and reassure you that it was more pleasurable than one lover. Less to say, he was the more eager one of your three, hence his straining cock in his leggings. He wanted to get this show on the road.

“Rest assured my Lady, while it is considered taboo, it is equally pleasurable,” Maglor soothed and removed your hair stuck to your sweaty face. “I’ll do my best to ensure that you are satisfied…you might return for more.”

Giggling at his statement, you felt some jittered leaving your body while the majority remained when you came face to face to the sight of a naked Tyelko standing at the foot of the bed. Boots and legging discarded, his cock stood proudly with an angry head and leaking precum furiously. You had seen your fair share of male genital drawn in books, but never realistically. Come to think of it, you had forgotten you were naked in the arms of a naked Maglor whose cock was pressing against your thigh and smearing its precum. You weren’t made aware until now.

Your body froze but your eyes weren’t resisting the urge to look between you both and gaze at the proud erection he sported. It was equally as angry as his brother’s and lacked girth, though it made up in length and shape. Focusing on Maglor’s cock, the audience it gained caused it to twitch in anticipation the longer your innocent stare rested upon it. For instance, Maglor licked his lips and whispered for you to touch it, instead he praised you and withheld his patience to devour you. “Do you see what you do to me? No other woman can have that effect on me, my Lady,” he groaned in your ear before turning you around and guiding you over to the bed.

Tyelko stood impatiently stroking his length and rolling his eyes at the exchange. Poking his tongue past his lips in aggravation, he was rewarded his wait with the sight of you being guided to where he stood.

Your much smaller figure crossed the empty space and brushed closely past Tyelko, allowing him to breathe in your pheromones. He didn’t miss the small, coy smile you threw over your shoulder before approaching the bed. Cheeky vixen! His right hand released his length and made an impact with your ass, propelling you forward and stumbling onto the bed. The loud gasp that left your throat urged him to step closer and deliver another to your bare cheek. His left hand gripping your nape and his right hand rubbing your ass, a howl ripped past his lips as he landed another slap, reddening your ass with his large hands. Something for you to remember him by.

The cries that slipped from your lips were easily devoured by Maglor who came afront to comfort you. He knew how ‘lost in pleasure’ his brother was capable of becoming. His lips, you forgot what they felt like, swallowed all your cries as his tongue slipped into your mouth. There was a hint of that strong Noldorin wine on his tongue the further it danced with yours and coaxed your moans. Your position felt awkward, having to be on all fours and your ass being spanked while craning your neck painfully to meet the sweet lips of your Prince. However, knowing that you were about to experience the first-time pleasure of two princes instead of one, the awkward pain was worth it.

“How do you want us sweetheart?” Maglor asked, breaking the kiss to admire your reddened face and whisper against your lips.

Flashing your eyes to meet his, your words were cut short by the intrusion of a finger slowly probing into your ass, stretching you open. Jaw slacked and eyes rolling, your head dropped into the mattress leading to your back arching more into his touch. It felt foreign having something slipping in there, but your mind told your body to relax because it would become pleasure.

“I’ll take her from behind while you…get her the way you wanted,” answered Celegorm.

Nodding his head at the decision, Maglor looked down at your body and smiled at the reaction you expressed. You were doing so good for them; how could they not reward you. Reaching down to cup your chin and tilt your head upwards to meet his smirk, he bit his lower lip at the sequences of events to unfold before the night was over.

“I’ll take her first since I had her before you encroached, you can step in after she’s comfortable.”

“Oh?!” Celegorm’s brows raised; his night was growing more excited by the hour. “Well then, I’ll leave you to the first act háno; please don’t take forever, I’m getting impatient.”

Stepping away and walking over to the wine table to pour himself a glass, Tyelko made himself comfortable and waited for his turn. Meanwhile, Maglor seemed to be thrilled with having you all to himself and planned to stretch the moment out for as long as he could before his brother intervened once more. Rolling you onto your back and reclaiming his position above you, he brought your legs to rest on either side of his hips. His dainty fingers ran up and down your thighs, easily sliding closer to your sex to build the anticipation.

His lips were reattached to yours once more and prying all the moans he could devour in that instant. Your hands were excited running up and down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles rippling under your touch from every shift in his body. With every touch, he would shiver and groan into your mouth, wanting you to know the effect you had on him. “Do you see what you do to me, princess? Look…” Breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours and breathing in each other’s air, he urged you to look down at where his erection angrily rubbed against your inner thigh. A slight shift in his hips and it would brush against your outer lips.

“Only a beautiful woman like yourself could do this to me,” he hissed, gasping when your lips brushed against his tip. Dragging his eyes to hold yours, he grinned and released a single laugh. “Eager for me just as much as I am.”

“I-I am. I…I want this, please,” you begged and flashed him a doe-eyed look.

Groaning at your innocence, his right hand moved to run his fingers through your fold and slip past your entrance to test the waters again. Finding no resistance and only warmth, he withdrew and used your arousal to coat his cock. Smearing your juices along his length, he sighed and shifted his hips closer to place his tip just at your entrance, though the action made you tense. He felt your nails dug into his back muscles while you sucked in your breath. Nuzzling his head against yours, he planted a kiss on your cheek to calm your erratic heart.

“I know it has been a while since you last…” he trailed off not needing to complete the rest, “I need to you breathe for me; breath in…now breath out.”

It was the same directions he delivered earlier to ease your fear of pain.

Finding it difficult to look away from where his cock rested and into his hypnotic eyes, you shut them and followed his instructions. Your chest heaved erratically at first, breathing arduously with your heart hammering against your ribcage, feeling like you would pass out from the sheer intensity of the moment. Fortunately, Maglor was kind enough to breathe in sync with you once he became conscious of your trepidation. Breathing in and out, feeling his chest and his warm skin brushing against yours, your muscles relaxed, and the stress eased. Your nails eased their viscous grip on his back and your breathing flowed with a constant cadence.

“Maglor…” you breathed.

“Yes?” he responded breathlessly.

“I’m ready.”

There was a loud buzz in his ears when your words rang before the room fell silent, he even forgot his brother sitting in the distance sipping on his wine. His left hand moved to hold your hip while his right ran his cock through your fold before returning to your entrance and easing in. For every deep exhale you took, he moved an inch deeper and felt the tightness of your walls suffocating him, and for every inhale, he stopped. He was almost in, and with a few more pushes and he breached your walls to enjoy the pleasures of being purely visceral. The loud gasp let out by you both at the experience of being stuffed and suffocated sang in harmony, but it was short–lived when Maglor could no longer bear the wait and moved first.

His idea of testing the waters to open you up was to get your walls affiliated with the shape and weight of his cock moulding your gummy walls. To believe that you were this tight after all the relaxation methods was astonishing. Feeling incapacitated by the quick movements of the gentle Prince, he switched your positions to allow him to batter your walls from underneath. One hand in your hair to tug your head backwards and his mouth leaving dozens more of purple flowers, the other gripped the fleshiness of your ass and groped. You were doing so well for him, voice sometimes stuck in your throat, a vigorous thrust would choke it out. Gone was your nauseating feeling and in place was the plethora of ecstasy.

Crying out Maglor’s name sentence after sentence and begging him to not stop, his cock would push deeper, something bushing against your cervix. Your body would do nothing else but spasm and tremble like a leaf in his arms the further you both tumbled around in the abyss of pleasure. Feeling the immensity of the weight of his cock resting snuggly and sliding like silk along your walls had butterflies swarming in your tummy. Your toes curled at the rise of a new pleasure and your back arched, pressing your nipples against his sweaty chest. The luscious friction felt sensational with every push of your body for every thrust he sent your way.

But long had one sat in the shadows and awaited his turn; seeing that your fun had begun and despising the loneliness, he rose from his seat and strutted over. The interaction was abrupt and ephemeral when fleeting kisses from a cool mouth ran down your spine and bit your left cheek. Squealing, you fought to toss your hand around and glare at the perpetrator only to feel a sharp tug at your hair. “N-Not so fast princess, eyes on me; I want you to look at me darling,” crooned Maglor. His voice was beyond stable for someone pounding into you lightning fast.

Biting your lips to the sound of his angelic voice, your walls clenched around him in response, causing his hips to falter. You could hear the lowly whispered ‘oh fuck’ under his breath.

“Hold there Káno, I’m joining,” announced Tyelko.

Using the moment to still his hips, there were two pairs of hands that now rested on your hips and ass. Maglor, wanting to distract you from the tension and ache you would experience, dipped his head lower to capture your breast in his mouth. Your breasts were supple and round, a feature he eyed all night—one that caught his attention and had him tripping. The little sensation gained from his gesture relaxed your body but didn’t take away from the feeling of oil being drizzled over your hole and a finger slipping inside. As delicious as the sensation was, you hated the snail’s pace he was thrusting his finger and clenched to suck him in.

“Shhh, ah, fuck Y/N!” cried Maglor. Your walls choked the living daylight out of Maglor’s cock, completely forgetting that he would experience your contractions.

“Hmm, somebody’s eager for more!” cheered Tyelko at the same time.

Breathlessly chuckling and feeling a bit more light-hearted now that you were deeply engaging in the pleasures of the flesh, you whipped around to cast an impatient look at the silver-haired male. You received a flash of pearly whites and a finger wiggling at you to behave yourself. “Patience princess, I’m trying to make things smoother.”

Groaning and whining at his response, you dropped your head into the mattress beside Maglor’s while he was busy feasting away at your plump breast. By the time he was finished, you knew your chest was going to be covered in endless hickeys.

Resisting the urge to clench around his fingers was impossible for every new digit he inserted since you were constantly choking Maglor’s cock. The contrast in the gasp and laughter that escaped their throats whenever you did so earned the constriction on your hips tightening and turning into a vice grip. You were dangling on a leash the longer they dragged out your night, wanting to focus on their indulges. The desperation was growing under your skin till the point of not being able to take the impatience any longer. Nails digging into the mattress and teeth biting the sheets, you were drooling at the sluggish behaviour of Celegorm opening you up to take him.

You just wanted his cock to fill you up like he promised, not take forever, but your thoughts were soon incomprehensible the moment his digits withdrew, and his tip slipped in. You were choking on the air from the first few inches of his thick cock gliding deeper. Legs trembling, toes curling, drool escaping your mouth and eyes shut, you were clenching around them both at the shearing burn of being stretched painfully and stuffed by two enormous cocks. He wasn’t even halfway in when he paused to snort at your legs shaking from the increased satisfaction.

“Look at you, begging for my cock and now you can barely take it. Looks like you’re about to cum right now…” His voice was sickeningly aggravating the more he taunted your soul about your incapability to handle his well–endowed length.

“Fuck, please. Move, just move please, both of you,” you whined.

Finding your reply humorous, Maglor detached his mouth from your nipple and whispered, “As you wish love,” before driving his feet into the bed and thrusting into you with a newfound pace. There was a moment of confusion and disorientation in your brain when hands were reshuffled—one was rubbing your clit, and you didn’t know who—to grip your waist and press against your back, pushing you into a foul arch.

The impeccable satisfaction of being completely engulfed and devoured at the same time was magnanimous. The blindingly vivid spectrum of euphoria surging through your veins with each push and pull, the in and out and the weights of mouth and hands, pleased your appetite. Chants of perfection were hurdled across the room at how well you took them or how beautiful you appeared fucked out; only were able to attract such a reaction.

The power you held within your hands—and cunt—to make Noldorin Princes submit to their knees and worship you like the Goddess you were like you were beauty beyond comparison, your body a temple. You could feel the tears sprouting from the corners of your eyes the more their words lustfully infiltrated your senses and stimulated a pang in your heart. The heavy breathing and the sloppy kisses against your skin, the slipping of their hands to grip your sweaty skin, the roughness in contrast to gentleness, what an experience to behold.

With your eyes rolling into your head and drool running from the corner, a harsh round of slaps was equally delivered to your ass to wake you up. The regress from unconsciousness into awareness to meet forest-green eyes staring into your own had you confused. When were you yanked upwards to meet his chest?

“Welcome back kitten, we thought we lost you for a second,” he growled. His eyes were focused on your face, observing every microsecond of pleasure that was displayed. He wanted to read those pretty eyes and distinguish if you were still doubting your femme fatal prowess abilities. Honestly, you had him and his brother putty in your hands; neither could get enough of you. “Look at you, the most beautiful woman in the world in our arms, making us lose ourselves. Powerful aren’t you?”

Finding it impossible to formulate a coherent response, you breathlessly whined when Maglor brushed against your sweet spot. Your eyes twitched and rolled as though you were possessed and Tyelko found that impressive. To see how lost and dancing on the edges of something higher than the heavens you were, was praiseworthy. Leaning in to capture your lips and sighing once they collided, your tongues danced and pried songs from each other’s throats. It was messy and hurried from the energetic and frantic thrusts on either end; the acceptance from your walls with the aggressive moulding and reshaping was short-circuiting your brain. You were losing your capacity to function as durable as you were from the start. They were corrupting you to accept and let go, let loose and be free, express yourself and believe in your abilities.

The churning of the plethora of pleasure from every end, the kissing, the finger playing with your clit and hands all over your body, had your orgasm bubbling in a cauldron. The imperishable flame was building and strengthening to heights unimaginable, it burnt your insides and slowly melted the dams.

“You’re such a good girl for us sweetheart. Are you gonna cum for us?” praised Maglor, his face flushed and sweaty from the vigorous workout you were giving him. His brows were pinched as he observed the rhythmic motion of his fingers against your clit and you bouncing on his cock. The build–up of the ring of cream around the base was a filthy sight to behold, perfection.

Finally breaking from the orgasmic kiss with a string of saliva dangling between your lips, a feral grin was returned as an act of favour. Your lips were sweet as ever and he still couldn’t imagine how you weren’t aware of this. Trailing his hands away from your chin, it returned to your back to push against his brother’s chest so he could switch his position and change the angle of his thrusts. One foot on the bed and one hand on your back, Tyelko found the treasure of his pleasure. With the arrival of your orgasm, everything was contracting at an unrecordable rate, making his hips stutter. “Eru, you feel fucking good!”

Mewling at the increased pressure in your hips the more Maglor’s cock battered your insides and sweet spot and his fingers rubbed away at your clit, your body began convulsing. The violent convulsion sent every muscle in your body to suffocate their cocks with urgency to milk them. All three of you were hissing and groaning as your highs were approaching rapidly. Head lulled and resting in the crook of Maglor’s neck, hiding your face as the growing pressure made you easily lose composure, you dug your nails into his biceps and teeth into his shoulder.

“M-Maglor…it–it’s too much, I–I so…ughh.”

Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, all he had to do was give a kiss to your forehead before you came tumbling down. The quick jerk of your body in his arms and twitching of your muscles pushed both of them into overdrive. First, there was a loud grunt, followed by moans before stillness took over and the feeling of their release flooded your passages. Unfortunately, with your sensitivity, the pulsing of their cocks as they spilt their release into you made you cry out and dig your nails deeper into Maglor’s arms. The overview of your orgasm breaking down and washing over you like tidal waves felt like rain after drought. Topped with their highs following yours, the feeling was indescribable.

Going limp in Maglor’s arms, you felt Tyelko’s silvery tresses tickling your back as he slumped over your form, dealing with the aftershocks. He secretly didn’t want to pull out, but he also needed to rest. Heaving and finding the energy to straighten, you felt a small kiss in the middle of your spine and a callous hand rubbing your ass while he eased out. The hissing emitted from you made him wince; he knew you wouldn’t be able to walk for a couple days, and he patted his back. Stepping aside to flop at the end of the bed, Maglor took the opportunity to ease out and roll you onto your side.

You lay in the middle with your left leg tossed over Maglor’s waist and facing him in the aftermath of your rendezvous. Behind you laid Tyelko with his face buried in your hair and an arm slung over your waist, sleeping. It was just you and Maglor left awake, pillow–talking.

“How are you feeling?” he asked politely.

Deliberating, you pressed your lips together to suppress a yawn before answering. “Tired and sore. My legs feel wobbly.”

“Well, I hope—” His words were cut off by the ill-mannered snoring from his brother on the opposite end. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he leaned closer so your noses were touching and whispered, “Well, I would advise you stay in my chambers for the next few days, that way I can care for you.”  

“Care for me, whatever do you mean?”

“I was not able to have you all to myself like promised…and the best way to treat your soreness is more therapeutic activities.” He grinned and leaned in to peck your nose.

Blinking at his assertiveness, you softly giggled. “One night is not enough for your hunger My Lord?”

“One night is never enough when it’s a person of magnificence like you…I want to cherish you more—” Another snore cut his words off as though it was deliberate. Huffing, he turned to you again and reassured you. “Perhaps in the morning when my brother has departed, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[onekonii]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔰𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔫 [2nd part]: Where the melody is lost, another is reborn

Note:

Thank you very much to those who have waited for this ugly thing, my mind is not good at doing these things so sorry if it took me almost 2 years to bring this, but I had SO many personal problems that I honestly don't have time for my Tumblr. Also, as I said, it's a hobby and lately I don't feel like doing anything, I took advantage of the fact that I was inspired.... enjoy I guess :P

Warnings⚠️:

Domestic abuse, mentions of physical violence and— uh... Character deaths (non-protagonist) There may or may not be inconsistencies or misspellings/pronouns, apologies to readers if that happens.

✧----------------➣

Tufts of hair rippled in the soft, cool breeze of the garden. The tiny, slightly bruised hands of the barely four-year-old girl tried to catch an elusive butterfly. Her clothes, simple and a bit worn for someone her age, did not diminish the curiosity that drove her to explore beyond the restrictions imposed by her absent mother. The Duchessess had asked her never to go out without her supervision, but the inquisitive nature of children was stronger than any warning.

To the little girl's eyes, the garden of the mansion, now abandoned and overgrown with vines, seemed like a magical world. A soft scent emanated from the flowers, even though they had withered with time. The tall trees were like silent guardians, their leaves whispering stories of the past in the breeze.

The butterfly, delicate and ephemeral, was the child's guide in an ethereal dance. Each flutter of its wings was a ray of hope in the midst of the melancholy that surrounded the mansion. The sweet little girl could not help but chase after this ray of fleeting beauty, despite her mother's warnings.

While the little girl was clumsily climbing a tree in pursuit of the butterfly that seemed to mock her innocent determination, her mother had come in from her 'homework'. Her eyes, which had been silently watching from a discreet distance, had finally come to rest on her daughter. A smile, both loving and stern, lit up her face, revealing the inner struggle that she, too, was facing.

(Y/N), her small hands gripping the rough bark of the tree, realized that she had been discovered. Words of rebuke were on her mother's lips as she finally decided to climb down from the tree, but before she could speak, her daughter looked up with innocent eyes and a loving heart.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," she murmured (Y/N) in a soft voice. Her confession was filled with an innocence that would melt even the hardest of hearts.

The Duchess sighed inwardly, tired from the hardships she had to face on a daily basis, both inside and outside of the mansion. Her words, however, were filled with love and concern. "You must be careful, darling. You are too young to risk such games. Besides, you are well aware that you are not supposed to be helping me with the cleaning of the palace, and yet you do it because we have no servants. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Understanding her mother's concern, (Y/N) nodded. "Sorry, Mommy. I promise that I will be more careful and I will help you as much as I can."

The girl held onto her mother's hand, and together, mother and daughter, they walked back into the mansion. 

✧----------------➣

The Duchess held her daughter in her arms as they walked back to the rooms of the mansion. (Y/N) looked around curiously and asked, with the innocence befitting her age, how her mother's day had been. The Duchess smiled and assured her that there was no need to worry, that she was a child and should not be burdened with adult responsibilities.

But the little girl sulked and began to whine when her mother suggested that she take a bath. "Mommy," she protested, "I don't want to take a bath. "I always get itchy dandruff and my eyes hurt when I go in."

With a hint of melancholy in her eyes, the Duchess sighed. She knew that her daughter's peculiarities were more than just skin-related. They were a reminder to her of a past she would rather forget, of a time when things had been different. But out of love for her daughter, she kept her thoughts to herself. She nodded tenderly.

"I understand, my love." She replied softly as they reached the bathroom. "But it's important that you become clean. Perhaps we can find some way to make it less uncomfortable. "

The Duchess prepared the bath carefully. She made sure the water temperature was perfect and added some fragrant herbs to ease (Y/N)'s discomfort. Her blue eyes watching the reflection of the candles on the surface, the girl cautiously stepped into the water.

As the Duchess gave her daughter a bath, (Y/N) once again asked with a child's curiosity, "Is it normal for me to look like this, Mama? My scales show and my eyes feel strange when I get we."

The Duchess gently stroked her daughter's hair and replied, smiling softly. "You are special, sweetheart. You have been given a gift, an inheritance that makes you unique, your appearance and especially your eyes. You should not be afraid of the opinions of others."

Her mother's words brought a small measure of comfort to (Y/N), who was beginning to feel more at ease in the water. As the last of the day's light filtered through the bathroom window, mother and daughter shared a moment of intimacy and love that reminded her of why she had not yet given up.

As the Duchess gently dried herself with the towel (Y/N), she was suddenly struck by a coughing fit. The cough was as hoarse as it was painful, and as blood spurted from her lips and stained the white towel, (Y/N) looked up at her mother with eyes filled with fear and confusion.

"Moma, are you all right?" the little girl asked with a look of concern shining in her blue eyes as her small hands gripped the towel tightly in her grip.

The weakness in her voice betrayed her inner struggle, but the Duchess tried to smile. "It's just a little cold, my dear." She replied tenderly. "You don't have to worry. Moma is going to be fine."

(Y/N) nodded, accepting her mother's words with the innocence befitting her age, though it didn't make her stop worrying. "It's okay, Moma ...  I'm going to take care of you."

But in the depths of her heart, the Duchess knew that all was not well. Worry and pain gripped her being, not only because of her own failing health, but also because of the dark secret she held in her heart. A secret that would affect (Y/N)'s life in ways she couldn't even imagine.

Even so, she pushed her feelings and her worries to the back of her mind. Smiling, she carried her to bed and told her a story. 

✧----------------➣ 

The sun was slowly beginning to set in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden as it did so. (Y/N) was holding a makeshift broom in her hand as she eagerly swept up the fallen leaves. Autumn was just around the corner, and the little girl was very excited about the arrival of the new season. She jumped up and down, giggling as she chased the leaves to the ground. Her laughter filled the quiet garden with an infectious joy.

The duchess watched her daughter fondly, her smile a reflection of her happiness to see her enjoying her childhood in spite of the adversity she was facing. The Duchess couldn't help but giggle as (Y/N) turned to her with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes and told her she could sweep faster.

"Oh, do you really think you can do it any faster, little tempest?" the Duchess teased as she came closer. "In defiance of your mother, are you?"

The little girl nodded her head with determination, and then, in a playful gesture, the two of them began a friendly competition. Both swept fervently, their laughter filling the air as they exchanged complicit, playful glances.

In the end, they both finished the job exhausted but full of joy. The Duchess scooped up her daughter and began playing, picking up leaves and dropping them on (Y/N), who laughed and rolled in her arms.

The garden, with its dry and broken fountain, was filled with the laughter and the love shared between mother and daughter, a breath of happiness in the midst of the shadows that threatened to darken their world and to extinguish the little light in their lives.

The play between the Duchess and her daughter was pitifully interrupted when the butler of the main house, a man of elegant and serious bearing, approached, looking formal. "My lady," he announced in a respectful voice, "I am sorry to disturb you, but your parents have arrived and wish to see you." 

The girl hid behind her mother, obeying her mother's rule of not allowing the man to see her as such.

The Duchess nodded. Her smile was subdued, but her eyes reflected concern. This visit was a routine that her family followed to make sure that the Duke was not completely neglecting her, and to maintain the flow of money that would never make it into her hands. Remembering the harsh reality of her marriage, the smile faded slightly.

(Y/N) looked at her mother and then at the butler, not fully understanding the situation. In youthful innocence, she asked inquisitively, "Can I meet my grandparents, Moma?"

The Duchess bent down to be at her daughter's level and gently stroked her hair. "Not this time, my dear," she replied in a sweet voice. "While I'm away, I want you to stay here and take care of the mansion. I promise I'll return soon."

She looked at her mother with doubtful eyes, watching the Duchess's expression become increasingly sad as she went after the man. She could feel the sadness in the air and was unsure if she should follow her mother or stay behind in the mansion, despite her young age.

The little girl decided to break the rule her mother had given her with a feeling of fear and curiosity. Leaving the broom on the floor, she sneaked around the mansion, dodging the servants, dressed in simple clothes, and walking barefoot, as if she were a common slave, if you looked closely enough. Following her mother from a distance, she came to a hallway where the doors were ajar, excited and curious at the thought of meeting her grandparents (Y/N), she wondered if they would be kind like in fairy tales and if she would finally have a complete family, but unfortunately several voices in the room burned away those hopes and revealed the harsh reality that had been hidden from her childish eyes.

Surrounded by imposing and cruel figures, the Duchess sat in the center of the room. Her grandmother, a high society lady, scolded her daughter in an authoritative voice. She said: "What on earth are you wearing? My God, what indecency, have you lost all sense of decency and propriety? You have a filthy, emaciated appearance."

The grandmother went on to compare the Duchess to other high society ladies. She pointed out the Duchess's shortcomings and harshly criticized her daughter. "Have a look at the other ladies, with their fancy dresses and jewels. Compared to them, you look like a tramp."

The grandfather also sighed, bored, the girl could see from afar that he was a cold and distant man, he just looked on indifferently, before he started to say cruel words to his own daughter as well. 

"For God's sake, even after all these years you're still useless, a burden. You're only here because your brother asked for it. And to be honest, he made us waste the family fortune."

Helplessly, the Duchess swallowed her tears and pressed her lips together, reminding herself that it was for his sake. But the fact that her husband was also part of the chorus of criticism was annoying enough, as it was an opportunity for humiliation. "You should learn from other ladies who know how to please their husbands and make them happy," he said.

Even the Duke's mistress threw her own darts in her sweet, venomous voice. "Poor Duchess, you thought you could compete? Your beauty is a thing of the past, and he has found happiness in my arms. We only keep you here for pity, you dirty bitch!" 

(Y/N) watched in silence, hidden in the shadows of the hallway, as the sadness and humiliation washed over her mother. The cruel dialogues and the oppressive atmosphere of the room made her feel tormented. Sadness began to fill her young heart, and although she did not fully understand the complexities of the situation, she could sense the injustice and cruelty that hung over her mother.

With a heart full of rage and helplessness, (Y/N) clenched her fists and pushed open the doors to the room and entered with a determination. She began to cry uncontrollably as she glared accusingly at all the gathered adults.

"Liars! You're the bad people who hurt my mommy!" she shouted with courage and a rage that contrasted with her young age. As she tried to defend her mother from the cruel trial she was being subjected to, her voice quivered with emotion.

The adults present were shocked to see the little girl act so bravely and defy social norms with her unexpected behavior, including (Y/N)'s grandparents. The Duchess's mother was outraged by what she saw as disrespect. She said:

"That little girl is acting like a savage! Get her out of here!" she shouted in the tone of a lady of high society who could not understand the insolence of such a thing.

The Duke, looking at (Y/N) with interest and surprise, finally turned to the Duchess, who was trembling with fear to see her daughter in the middle of this confrontation with those who only wanted to hurt her. Frankly, she blamed herself, knowing that her daughter would not always obey her. As the Duke hurled accusations, the adults present surrounded her, demanding answers and explanations about the identity of (Y/N)'s father.

"Who is the father of this child, Duchess? Damn it, I thought you were boring and you turned out to be a whore," he complained and accused her coldly, even though his look was full of malice. "I thought you were barren. And look, you had this brat well hidden from me!" 

The Duke, taking the child by the arms, examined her, while the poor mother of the child just stopped in the midst of so many questions and reproaches.

The Duchess, her eyes filled with tears and trembling with fear, knew that she could not reveal the true identity of (Y/N)'s father at that moment. It was her secret that was at stake, and she had to protect her daughter from the consequences of the truth.

Tension in the room rose as the Duchess tried to explain the situation. But her mother, her face flushed with anger and contempt, slapped her hard before she could answer. Everyone in the room was momentarily silenced by the sound of the blow.

"You are unfaithful and ungrateful," the Duchess's mother charged bitterly. "You are a traitor to your family and to your blood."

Then the Duchess's mother began to complain in a bitter tone, blaming her also for the death of her older brother, Crysten, who had asked everyone to help care for his sister before he died fighting in the Northern War. The Duchess listened to the accusing words, tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt crushed by guilt.

"Crysten was the only one who cared for you. And look how you rewarded him. You slept with another man and fathered a bastard." The Duchess's mother sneered.

Finally, in a fit of rage and grief, the heartbroken Duchess burst out. She cried out her truths mixed with bitterness and despair, her words filled with raw emotion. 

"I know all this, Mother!" *Her face said it all, she was hysterical and angry. "I know that I'm here at my brother's request before he died, I know that no one wants me here! Yes, I have made mistakes, but how can I face my husband's betrayal when he is wallowing with another woman right in front of me? The world is hypocritical! Yes, I have been running away from my problems, and I am still doing that, but I'm not going to let you insult this little girl. She's my daughter, I'M HER MOTHER! I don't care who her daddy is, she makes me happy and guess what, I'm sick of all of you. Because I care about her, I can't leave! Even if I'm suffering, I'm okay when she's smiling".

After the Duchess's passionate words, silence fell over the room. Everyone in the room, including (Y/N), was taken aback by the revelation that she had a father, and by her mother's emotional defense of her. Raw emotions filled the air and created a tense and charged atmosphere in the room. The shock was so great that the Duke let the little girl go, leaving her bruised and battered.

Erizebette was heartbroken and tears welled up in her eyes. She took her daughter by the hand and led her away from that place of accusations and bitterness. The angry voices of the adults shouted at her to return and settle the matter. But Erizebette could not stand it any longer.

She walked determinedly, holding her child, covering her ears and hiding her in her chest. The girl could not say a word, feeling the sorrow of the atmosphere around her and still afraid of the looks that were directed at her, scornful and humiliating. Her broken dreams, her childish wish for her mother and grandparents to be with her... were gone.

Finally, in the safety of her room, Erizebette put her daughter to bed. The darkness of the night had enveloped the room, and the weight of all that had happened was weighing heavily on her shoulders.

(Y/N), with eyes full of innocence, broke the silence. "Moma, is all that stuff they said true? ..... My grandparents looked at me with disgust. Am I a mistake? I... Do you regret that you had me?" Her voice trembled with a child's fear of not understanding the cruel world around her. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm a fool for not realizing how much you were hurting. Forgive me for being greedy and for my desire to live out a family fantasy like the stories you have read to me."

Erizebette looked at her daughter incredulously for a moment, then hugged her, tears flowing freely. "Oh, my girl," she whispered, voice broken. "You should never have to feel like this. You are the light of my life, my love, my strength. You are the light of my life, my reason to go on."

Letting their emotions boil over, they hugged each other tightly. Erizebette's tears mingled with (Y/N)'s. In the darkness of the night and their lonely sobs, they formed an unbreakable bond between mother and daughter.

✧----------------➣

With (Y/N) always by her side, Erizebette continued her daily chores in the old mansion in the days that followed. Together they cleaned the deserted spaces, brushed away the dust of the past and brought some life back into the forgotten place.

The little girl's curiosity was insatiable. She kept asking questions about her father. She wanted to know what he was like, why he wasn't with them, and why she couldn't get to know him. Erizebette would answer these questions in vague terms, protecting her daughter from the painful truth that threatened to tear at her innocence and shatter what little emotional stability Erizebette herself had left.

But in these days, when the nights became dark and silent, Erizebette began to share (Y/N) memories of her past. She would talk about a certain albino, mentioning his attractive features, his curls like snow in winter, his crystal clear eyes like the deep sky in which it was easy to lose oneself, and his indescribable beauty. The Duchess would tell these stories with melancholy, as if the memory of these moments brought her comfort in the midst of her present suffering. But it was also a painful source of pent-up feelings and unfulfilled regrets.

It was on one of these nights, however, that an uncontrollable fit of coughing shook Erizebette's fragile body. (Y/N) panicked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched helplessly as her mother suffered. The girl promised her with sobs that she would go for help, but Erizebette stopped her with a trembling hand.

"No, dear," she said faintly, leaning against the wall. "Just take me to lie down."

(Y/N) obeyed and carefully carried her to bed. The Duchess was still coughing. Her strength was waning as she tried to remain calm in the face of her daughter's concern.

Erizebette showed no sign of improvement when she finally lay down. The child cried beside her, clutching her mother desperately. Erizebette knew it was time to reveal the truth as she looked into her daughter's painful eyes.

"You must know, my love," she began, voice shaking. "I am ill and I do not think I can be at your side much longer."

The heavy words hung in the air, leaving (Y/N) heartbroken as she took in the harsh reality and the possibility of her mother's loss. The room, once filled with stories and laughter, was now filled with tears. The little girl's chest felt heavy. 

Caressing her daughter's face, Erizebette began to tell her the truth in a weak but loving voice. "Listen to me, my precious light," she said in a low voice. "Mum's got to leave soon, and frankly, you've seen how bad people can be, so .... Don't cry, please. Be strong. Don't let anything get in your way." A cough interrupted her words. But she continued with determination.

"But let me tell you something, my baby..." Erizebette could not finish the phrase as her daughter interrupted her with tears. "Don't say that! You can't die! I know you'll get well. You said you would, Mummy!"

The woman smiled warmly and stroked her daughter's face as she continued to cry. "I'm sorry, my love. I won't be able to keep this promise, but listen," she said softly. "When I leave this world, leave this house without looking back. And take with you the shell necklace that is buried in the biggest tree near the well. Look for Papa, I'm sure he will help you," Erizebette smiled tiredly and whispered her last breath as she coughed.

"(Y/N), I want to tell you that among all the bad and pathetic things in my life, you were my only achievement that I can really be proud of. Please don't ever forget that. Don't let anyone try to diminish how you shine.

With these words, Erizebette closed her eyes and her hand cooled on top of her daughter's. (Y/N) was stunned and refused to come to terms with the loss.

(Y/N)'s tears continued to flow as her mother continued to speak. The little girl desperately tried to wake Erizebette. She cried out: 

"MUMA!!! This isn't funny, please don't fall asleep!" She pleaded, breathless. "Mummy, mummy, please, I know you're sleeping, but get up .... Please don't leave me here alone! PLEASE!"

Silence fell over the room. The little girl was caught in a whirlwind of overwhelming emotions. As she mourned the departure of the one person who had been her refuge in this cruel world, sadness, loss and confusion washed over her.

"Mummy... Why? Mum, I was greedy with you and now .... now - wuaaah!!!" She couldn't speak, her throat closed up, and to be honest, she could hardly process anything but the fulfilment of her mother's (Y/N) words, still crying inconsolably, she walked towards the place where she used to play with the Duchess.

Suddenly the weather turns nasty, with dark clouds covering the sky, almost reacting to the little girl's grief, or perhaps to the sound of another person crying in the distance. Between sobbing, the little girl digs out the jewellery box her mother told her about. 

She opens it and finds a beautiful crystal shell which makes melodious sounds when caressed by the nascent wind, as the old villa was near the coast. As the water from the recent rain soaks her completely, (Y/N) carefully puts on the necklace. The girl screams and cries, feeling the loss of her mother and the longing for her presence, but she gradually fades away and begins to feel sleepy. She crawls over to the Duchess's corpse, smiles and wishes her goodnight as she sleeps beside her mother's cold body.

Elsewhere, somewhere far away, a figure awakens suddenly with the feeling that his connection with Erizebette has been abruptly severed. The pain in his heart is gone, but all that does is cause him to scream and cry out in despair. The pain is unbearable as he knows his beloved is dead. But something inside him tells him that there is still a faint connection, a small piece of his magic, linked to the necklace he gave her years ago. The necklace the girl now wears. He has a feeling that something has changed, but he can't quite make sense of it, but he hasn't given up hope and vows to find the source of this new connection.

For like a last melody abandoned, another will be reborn...

Nearest, yet far beyond

Warmth in the distance

How would you respond

To this madness, this existence?

Hold me closer

Hold me tighter

I'm mirroring this clear view

Filling up with blindness

Projecting that I need you

To overcome my weakness

Oh, the cold, the void, the light out

This warmth will go, wither out

(Hoo-ooh, ah)

(Hoo-ooh, ah)

Dearest, I shall not long

Grief in insistance

How to break this bond

When it's timeless, when it's cherished?

Hold me closer

Hold me tighter

Admiring this clеar view

Feeling crushed with brightness

Forgеtting that my time flew

Forgetting I was lifeless

The cold, the void, this light out

Our warmth will go, wither out

(Hoo-ooh, ah)

(Hoo-ooh, ah)

Thanks for reading and this time I won't put the thank you box in given my image/video oversaturation. I hope you like it and I still have to finish the third part, let's see if I can think of something. Bye bye! (-.-)Zzz・・・・(*゜▽゜)_□

[ashesandhackles]

@hprecfest Day 10, 11 and 12

Posting three days worth of recs cos real life got in the way of posting it on their said days :P enjoy!

Day 10 - A fest fic

Nymphadora by @bluethepineapple

Written for the @womenofthehouseofblack , this fic is dark fairytale about families - families you are part of, families you have left behind and the complicated love that runs through both. The implied parallel in conversation between Andromeda and Tonks to Andromeda and Bellatrix is particularly haunting.

Summary:

Nymphadora (Greek) n. "The gifts of the Nymphs"

Andromeda could only watch as her daughter set off to war.

The Rougarou by @evesaintyves

Wolfstar.

I am big champion of reading everything written by Eve, but this fic is my favourite from her! This fic is steeped in grief and death post First War, and even as Remus tries his best to hide away from it all, New Orleans haunts him. It's a beautiful piece and I keep rereading it time and again.

Summary:

After the end of the first war, Remus goes to New Orleans to forget.

Day 11 - A dark fic

Three Knocks Upon the Door by @lunapwrites

Lily/Tonks.

This fic! Such effective imagery and contextaulisation for the quotes we know from canon. The Lily in this story has a hypnotic quality to her, and you can't help be drawn in - like Tonks.

Summary:

Knocking on wood three times is said to bring good fortune; but three knocks on your window or door without a clear cause is an omen of death.

In this case, it's a little of both.

(In which Tonks gets suspended from field duty, and takes matters into her own hands.)

First and Last and Always by Vermoulian

Sirius Black/Severus Snape.

The Snirius discord server is in love with this fic - and I can see why. It is beautifully written and makes you sit viscerally in Snape's headspace, to the point that sometimes you are discomfited.

Summary:

Black had been nearly skeletal when he came out of Azkaban, but he’d put on muscle again.

He prowled, and he loomed, and whatever earthy animal quality he’d had as a younger man had transmuted into something feral and predatory, during his twelve years of imprisonment.

Severus had his wand. He swallowed hard. His wand. Magic. His only defense, because Black outweighed him by at least three stone. But magic was more than enough. Severus had never needed physical prowess. His magical strength, and the keenness of his mind, gave him the advantage.

Except when it didn’t.

Day 12 - A WIP you are following

Beasts by @whinlatter

Ginny Weasley coming of age fic? Ginny Weasley fic that addresses all the canon gaps of Hinny relationship in a layered way? Sign me up! I have always liked Ginny, but beyond wondering about how Chamber of Secrets affected her - I never cared for her. Whinlatter makes you care about her interior life, makes you see that post war Hinny isn't going to be as easy as breathing. Basically, it's love.

Summary:

Ginny Weasley comes of age among them: the beasts, the wild things of their world.

(or: how the youngest Weasley won the Hanging Out With Hagrid Award).

Canon compliant, multi-chapter, non-linear narrative, Golden Gen, PS through post-DH (1981-1999). Harry/Ginny.

The War of Roses by @saintsenara

Sirius Black/Severus Snape.

A canon divergent Snirius fic from asenora? I slammed the subscribe button even before reading it - but having read the first chapter, I greatly enjoy the emphasis on what Azkaban has done to Sirius and I cannot wait to see where she takes this.

Summary:

Sirius Black does not die. But this does not mean that it is easy for him to live.

Or: a butterfly flaps its wings and Sirius does not go to the Department of Mysteries. What follows from that twist of fate is a story about the long, destructive shadow of a schoolboy rivalry; a story about surviving, and how surviving is sometimes more difficult than dying; a story about the fragility of beauty, the gentleness of hope, and the value of choice.

It is also a love story.

Scylla and Charybdis by @saintsenara

Severus Snape/Lord Voldemort.

I love the way Asenora writes Snape - his insecurity, his attraction to power, danger and darkness. I love how the narrative has cuts from his older self reflections, and I am really curious to see where she will take this. It also has Snirius crumbs so large that we could make a sandwich.

Summary:

Severus Snape just wants somewhere to belong.

This will turn out to be a curse.

[runninriot]

Inspired by the prompt Love is just a four-letter word by @sal-si-puedes for @steddielovemonth day 27

 the definition of love

wc: 944 | rated: t | tags: Established Relationship, Sappy Steddie, Dustin and Eddie friendship, Dustin and Steve friendship, Dustin is going through a bit of heartbreak

   “This is so stupid! What even is love?”

It’s not a question Eddie thought he’d ever get asked by Dustin. But he gets it, knows how much it hurts to have your heart broken for the very first time. Especially as a teenager, when it feels like it’s literally the end of the world.

Eddie thinks about it, let’s the question sink in.

    What is love?

Well, technically speaking, love is just a four-letter word. But it’s also so much more than that.

Love is a variety of expressions and emotions. Love is big gestures and little things that go unnoticed in the day to day life.

To Eddie, it’s the fear of losing Steve. It’s saying ‘Drive safe’ like a little prayer every day when Steve leaves for work in the mornings because Eddie couldn’t bear if anything ever happened to him.

Love is adoration, telling Steve ‘You look so hot in those jeans’ or ‘My pretty boy’ just to see him blush, just to let him know how beautiful he is.

Love is pride. To be rightfully self-appreciating of the things they’ve accomplished as a couple – overcoming insecurities, sticking together even through tough times, making plans for a future together.

Love is never wanting to be apart from Steve.

Love is a three-word sentence, a confession of the heart Eddie makes every night before they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Sometimes it’s saying ‘I’m sorry’ after a fight. It’s saying ‘I cooked your favourite meal’ or ‘Let’s watch that movie you like’.

Love is saying ‘Thank you’ and ‘Pleaaase, baby’.

Other times it’s not saying anything at all, when Eddie just lets his lips pour all his feelings into a kiss or when he lets his fingers worship Steve’s body, caressing each scar, each blemish, every perfect imperfection that makes him unique.

It’s the flittering butterfly wings he feels in his stomach when Steve smiles at him and the prickling on his skin he feels whenever they touch.

Love is holding each other. Having your favourite person’s arms wrapped around you for comfort, when you’re cold, or just for the sake being close.

Sometimes, love isn’t gentle. It’s rough and wild. Sometimes it hurts, runs through your veins like a raging fire, smouldering in your soul.

It’s passion and longing.

Love is taking each other apart, becoming one in heated moments. It’s the urge to bite and suck and lick, to savour the taste of sweat drenched skin and spit slick holes.

It’s the rhythm of their bodies moving in sync, grinding, and gliding, and sinking in.

It’s falling together and landing on clouds.

Love is the delightful sound Steve makes when he laughs loudly at one of Eddie’s stupid jokes and the soft, whispered words they share in the dark of the night.

It’s a melody Eddie absently plays on his guitar while his mind is filled with thoughts about Steve.

Love is a four-letter word but sometimes it’s five – because it’s Liebe in German, and Amour in French, and to Eddie it’s Steve.

Love is everything, and if it’s true then it’s forever.

Love is what makes Eddie’s life complete.

   “You’ll know once you find it,” Eddie finally says, placing a comforting arm on Dustin’s shoulders to pull him into a brotherly hug.

It might not be the most satisfying answer but it’s the best he can give. And he knows one day Dustin will understand, when he finds the person holding the other half to his heart in their chest.

Eddie never expected to find his other half in Steve of all people but now that he knows what it’s like to love him and to be loved by him, he never wants to be without again.

   “You just gotta be patient,” he adds, can see Dustin rolling his eyes without seeing his face, huffing and sniffling into his shirt.

There’s a gentle knock and when he looks up, Eddie finds Steve’s worried face peeking through the half-open door.

    ‘Is everything okay?’ Steve mouths, pointing at Dustin who still hasn’t let go of Eddie.

Eddie smiles and nods at his boyfriend, forming a silent ‘I love you’ with his lips, just because.

Steve turns around and tries to make his way back into the hallway.

   “I know you’re there, Steve. Just get your ass in here,” Dustin mumbles into Eddie’s embrace, waving a hand in the general direction of Steve.

He only looks up once he can feel Steve’s hand on his back.

   “Suzie broke up with me.”

   “I’m sorry, buddy. That sucks.”

Dustin wipes his eyes with his sleeve, shrugs his shoulders, and sighs defeated.

   “Love is bullshit.”

Steve and Eddie share a look, soft and doting.

   “Yeah it is,” Steve smiles, “but it’s also the best goddamn thing in the world.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, takes Steve’s hand in his and kisses the back of it.

   “Ugh, you guys are the worst. I knew I should’ve gone to Robin instead. At least she knows what it’s like to be hopeless.”

With that being said, Dustin makes his way out of the room, ready to wallow alone in his heartbreak.

But before he exists through the door, he turns around one more time, finds Steve and Eddie still holding hands, looking at each other in a way that makes him want to barf and melt at the same time.

Because no matter how much he hates to admit – whatever they have, theirs is the true definition of love.

Maybe, Dustin thinks, feels something like hope blooming in his chest despite the lingering sadness, one day, I’ll find something just as perfect and wonderful.