#probably need to move the one shoulder scar closer to the arm

[midnightwind]

babygirl has some color and her scars now

[myromanempiree]

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Azriel x Reader

word count- 1.1k

Summary - In the books, its usually the male getting jealous after a fresh mating bond. I don't see enough of the female getting jealous.

a/n - I read a lot of Azriel angst today, @azrielbrainrot 's "I laugh like me again, and she laughs like you" hurt so good. (go read it!) But I decided to write some fluff,because its good for my heart, and I needed to get back into the swing of writing and wanted to learn how to write smut. So this is kinda messy.

c/w - p in v, tooth rotting fluff, jealousy, fem reader

Again, he was talking to Elain again.

He was helping her work in the garden of your shared home, which he had asked her to do after learning your favorite flowers. Even though you knew it was just Azriel being his usual self, unable to let someone do work by themselves even when he asked for it, you still couldn't help but want him all for yourself.

Perhaps it was the freshly accepted mating bond, only about a month old. Yes, thats what's it was. Just some base, lesser instincts, not at all jealousy. No, not that.

Your piercing stare seems to garner the middle Archeron's attention, who excitedly waves you over. You walk through the garden, moving like a magnet to Azriel. Arm looped in his, your face buried into his bicep.

You ignored the conversation, focusing on your mates warm body. Eyes still hostile, gazing at Elain.

Everything seemed to be generally running smoothly until she touched his arm, your mates arm. There was nothing adherently flirtatious about the movement, she was simply thanking him for hauling heavy bags soil, but it still irked you.

In fact, it irked you enough to elicit a low growl from your throat. The Archeron's eyes light with amusement, a small smile on her pink lips. Your mate looking rather taken aback.

"You two should probably go back inside, Im almost done." Elain said, clapping her hands together. "Alright, help yourself to the pastries in the kitchen when you're done.' Your mate said kindly.

Then Azriel placed a scarred, warm hand on your back, guiding you inside of your cottage

"Love? What was that?" Your mate asked, a gentle smirk on his stupidly kissable lips. When you didn't answer he gently pulled you closer to him by your hand and small of your back. "Love?" He repeats.

You flush in embarrassment, looking at his shoulder, a shadow dancing along with Azriel's amusement.

You huff, moving past him, causing a soft laugh to escape his lips, following you to your shared bedroom.

After you hear the door click, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, a firm body against your back. Azriel's warm breath dances across your skin as he buried his face into your neck.

"Answer me." He cooed softly, nuzzling his nose against the skin, his fingers drawing uncoordinated patterns on your hips. "Love?" Azriel began, kissing your skin. "Love of my life, sweetheart, darling, lovely. What happened?"

A silence enveloped the room, only for a few seconds before you whispered. "She touched your arm..."

You regretted it as soon as the words escaped your mouth, as soon as Azriel let out a deep, rumbling laugh that sent a heat to your core. The heat intensified as he moved his hands down to your thighs, kissing your neck.

"It didn't mean anything, my love..." Azriel began, "I know...I just—" you said softly.

"Were you jealous, little love?" His devilish smirk warm against your neck. And a soft nod of your head causes it to only widen. "You have nothing to be jealous of. You're the only one for me, only you." He mumbled truthfully, "A touch on the arm won't change that."

You still seemed a little wary, a little jealous. Azriel could feel it through the glimmering bond he had absolutely cherished since the moment he felt it. He slowly turns you around, picking you up in his arms. A soft, squealed "Azriel!" leaving your lips.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" He said, laying you onto the bed, kissing along your collarbone, a soft sigh escaped you lips. Urging him forward, "That would be nice."

He grinned again, moving his calloused fingers up your thighs, dancing across the slightly dampened cloth of your panties. He began moving it aside to slide two of his thick fingers into you, eliciting a soft gasp as he continued.

Azriel's fingers curling inside you felt beyond heavenly, you squirm under him, placing your hands on his shoulders as he moved. He slowly kissing in between your breasts, humming contently and he scissors his fingers.

His thumb pushed against your clit, a breathy moan escaping you. "There we go..." He purred, "Such a good girl." You let out a soft squeal as his warm mouth attached to a pert nipple, "Azzie! Mh—...fuck, I'm close."

His mouth curved around your nipple, giving it one last flick of his tongue before finding the spongey spot inside you that made you see stars.

Azriel groaned, his forehead digging into your cleavage as you come down from your high. He slowly removed his fingers, causing a soft moan to leave your lips.

He gently kissing your lips and moved to bring down his trousers, freeing his aching cock. You hum and move to bring your mouth down to it, before he catches you. "No can do, pretty." He mumbled, smudging the pre and your cum along his length, before slowly insisting himself.

Even after almost a year of being together, the stretch still burned. You hissed softly, moving to get your fingers in his hair. Her gently placed a hand on the inside of your thigh, massaging softly. "Breathe, pretty. Deep breaths. Follow me.' He mumbled, guiding you in breathing,

"Just like that, love." Azriel cooed rewardingly, moving to test a soft thrust. When you didn't wince, he nods to himself, clasping his hands along you hip and thigh, holding you steady while he does all of the work.

You let out a soft whine, burying your face into the crook of his neck as taking in deep breaths as you slowly make love. He pressed gentle kisses along your hairline, his thumb stroking your hip reassuringly, the murmuring praises.

The room filled with pants, the rustling of wings, skin slapping together and the slight creaking of your shared bed. And as you both approached the edge together, a loud moan escaped your lips, and a mumbled curse from Azriel.

The couple sat in a cozy silence, before Azriel gently placed his head on her chest. "Did I prove you wrong?" He asked teasingly. "Mhm..." You lazily mumble, stroking his hair, a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

He then removed himself and moved to clean you up, scooping you into his arms and walking to the bathroom, perching you onto the counter. He dampened a cloth, gently wiping away your mixed cum and kissing your thighs.

After cleaning up, you both dress on another, and you mumble a soft apology for being jealous. "You're alright, it was cute.' He teased, kissing your forehead and guiding you to the kitchen to get water.

Elain sits at the table, a crumbly pastry in hand, and a small grin on her face, before extending the pastry box to the pair, with mirth dancing in her eyes.

"Croissant?"

[gatorbites-imagines]

I was reading your Bruce Wayne alphabet and I saw that you had mentioned cuddlefucking and dom/sub on his kink list! Was wondering if you’d be willing to do a post where the reader edges Bruce while they’re cuddling or something like that?

Just Reader kissing Bruce all over and praising him after a hard mission making him feel head fuzzy mixed with Reader making slow love to Bruce, edging him until he’s overwhelmed (in a good way) and maybe crying a bit.

Bruce Wayne x male reader

Drabble

Ever since I wrote my bruce wayne kinktober prompt I’ve been thinking about him being submissive so much. I think Bruce would thrive with a partner to take care of him sometimes.

I wrote this with the reader being big and thick in mind, think those buff guys with a layer of chub over the muscle, but you can imagine it however you want.

The blanket was hot on top of you, it was one of the thickly woven cotton ones, made from some material that probably cost more than you could imagine. But even as sweat beaded on your brow, you simply pulled Bruce closer to your soft chest. He was laying with his back towards you, your stomach pressed into the arch of his muscular back as your arms wove around him and held him tightly.

Small huffs and muffled whines left him as one of your hands worked up and down his slick length, the heavy blanket barely moving with the motion as you pressed kisses against the bruises that littered his shoulder and neck. A needy noise left him as you nibbled at a bruise on the underside of his chin, where some goon had clocked him with a crowbar the other day. The slight pain from the bruise, mixed with the almost euphoric feeling of being held as your hand worked his length had Bruce feeling like he was gonna melt.

He had been working on cases nonstop for days, in the end you had pulled him into your shared bedroom and pulled the heavy blanket over the two of you. It had started as cuddling, as you knew your partner loved that more than anything, though he never said it out loud. But soon you found your clothes being chucked out from under the blanket, Bruces back sticking to your front from the sweat that developed from your closeness and the warmth it developed.

Maybe Bruce was dehydrated, as he panted and bit back a louder whine as you drew him near the edge before releasing your slick hand from his cock, his hips bucking from the loss of touch. It was a process you repeated a couple more times, your voice thick with praise as you kept kissing his back and neck, mumbling into his ear as you built him up only to let him fall again, not giving him the release he craved.

It was only when Bruce melted into the bed and his noises stopped being so choked, when he turned his head to hopefully catch your lips with his, when you knew he was floating slowly away to a lighter mental state that you took pity in him. The jerks and twists of your hand grew more purposeful as his noises rose in pitch, tears beading in his blue eyes as his hips twitched and his thighs tensed.

But like this he was so good, he couldn’t finish without your approval, so even as he whined and cried, he kept being good for you. It was only when you finally mumbled into his ear that he could cum that Bruce did, spilling into your palm with a shaky moan, his entire body twitching and shuddering as you dragged it out as long as possible, until his whimpers and whines became those of overstimulation.

He let out a sad noise as you crawled out from under the blanket to get what you needed to clean the two of you up, but you knew neither of you would enjoy waking up to dirty sheets, so it was a small sacrifice. But when the worst of your and Bruces sweat had been wiped off with a cloth, your hands washed, and a new blanket draped over your lovers scarred body, you crawled in beside him again.

Bruce almost arched into your touch, like a touch starved cat, melting against your pecs as he gripped onto your softer middle, a loud sigh leaving him as he seemed to melt against you. You swore he would have started purring if he had the ability, especially as you ran your hand through his hair and scratched his scalp, the already loose body growing heavier against you.

[sabinemorans]

Nightly Fantasies

Aemond x Aegon (Aegond) fic

Word count: 1765

NSFW Warnings: targcest, dominant Aemond, submissive Aegon, male breeding fantasy, some humiliation, praise

It would be bold of his half sister-probably too bold-but it wasn’t impossible. More than likely it was his Uncle who had sent this person. It was much more his style.

He lay there pretending to still be asleep as he listened closely to hear the movements of the shadow. He kept his breathing even but also shifted a bit. Even going so far as to softly groan to sell the illusion. After his grown he thought he heard a soft whine-peculiar.

His bed dipped a bit with weight. The sheets and quilts covering him were hoisted up just enough for a body to slip in beside him. A hand he knew so well cupped his cheek, the one with the scar and a warm, naked body pressed his side.

Aemond let go of the dagger and wrapped his arm around his brother, who eagerly pressed even closer; his already semi hard cock rubbing against his thigh.

“What’s your excuse this time?” Aemond whispered, firmly but not unkindly, his long fingers tangling in Aegon’s hair.

Aegon groaned fussily and pressed his nose to Aemond’s neck. He breathed in deeply and his greedy hands roamed all over Aemond’s chest before one slid down to cup a lower cheek.

“Now now, use your words. You don’t smell of drink so I know you can.” Aemond pressed a few kisses to Aegon’s hairline, the action so sweet it made the other’s cock twitch in need. The younger brother smiled.

“Had a dream,” the older brother nearly whined, his hand squeezing the ass cheek in his hand. “Woke up hard and I rubbed it but it wasn’t enough…I needed you…”

Humming in a pleased manner Aemond brought his other arm around Aegon and pulled him half on top of him, so his thigh was between Aegon’s.

Aegon whimpered and automatically began to rut against Aemond’s muscular thigh. All his hours of sword swinging and dragon riding had toned his already lean body to have hard muscle. Aegon was softer around the middle due to drink and bouncy in the behind from sitting all day. The difference between them always excited Aemond, just another funny joke of fate’s to make the younger brother taller, stronger in mind and body and the older-now the *King* of the realm, shorter, softer, and easily maneuvered by the younger. Despite the abuse he had suffered at Aegon’s hands when they were younger and his own volatile feelings during the day Aemond loved his brother. When this…had started between them, it had almost felt like a way to make up for their past, Aemond would take it. Anything to feel the love they both craved.

Aemond let him go at it for a few minutes, his eyes still closed as if he really was too tired but that smirk was on his face. The one that Aegon said made him look like a mischievous feline. He didn’t moved at all until Aegon began to pant his name in between the word for please in High Valyrian. Aegon knew very little that was appropriate for the day time in High Valyrian. Aemond’s smirk deepened.

“There now,” he purred, finally opening his eyes and blinking to adjust his eyes to the dim light, He gripped the soft skin above Aegon’s hips and lifted him up so he could straddle his cock instead of his thigh. Aegon let out a whorish moan and kept rutting. He could see Aegon’s desperate look only a little but it made his longer, thicker cock throb at the sight.

“Is that what you wanted my dear love?” Aemond cooed, voice calm even as his breath was quickening. Their cocks were slick with Aegon’s freely leaking precum and it felt so fucking good his control was hanging on my a thread. For now he would just grip Aegon’s hips and rock their cocks together randomly.

“Not,,,not enough,” Aegon panted, leaning down further, his head now bowed towards Aemond’s shoulder to rub together harder.

“Oh? Did you need something specific?” There was only one thing, one thought or one fantasy that would get Aegon this riled up. Aemond felt his own cock start to leak. He suddenly gripped Aegon’s throat and squeezed, forcing his movements to stop.

Despite the dark he knew they were making eye contact and their dicks twitched in unison. “Tell me…tell me what you wish. It’s my duty to give you what you command to the best of my ability.”

Aegon’s answering moan was deep in the back of his throat. A raw, primal need. “I want-I *need* your child inside me.”

And the control Aemond had suddenly snapped, as Aegon knew it would. Aemond’s answering kiss was forceful and Aegon melted into it, allowing the other’s tongue into his mouth with relish. Aemond sucked on his tongue hard and then pushed him off.

It was easy to get Aegon into his favorite position. Sometimes Aemond thought Aegon enjoyed being fucked prone because of the way it made him feel helpless. At the mercy of his bigger, meaner, *younger* brother. One day he’d make him admit it.

Aemond reached into the nearest drawer for the jar of thick stuff he used to pleasure himself sometimes. That was what the maester’s only assumed it was for when he asked for it, they didn’t know it was also used for their new king to be prepared for cock.

Aegon was moaning openly, the pillow nearly strangled to death under his fists as Aemond massaged the stuff around his hole and began to press inside, Aemond hummed appreciatively as he bent to watch, pressing kisses to one cheek.

“Such a good boy Aegon…taking it so good. A bit tight though aren’t you? Perhaps you need more regular practice…” When Aegon moaned and pressed himself further on his slender finger Aemond grinned and give the soft ass cheek a harsh nip. “More practice it is.”

He kept up a delicate balance of soft humiliation and praise as he prepared him. Once three fingers had the King popping his ass up in need, his knees wide open but his cock still against the sheets Aemond nipped at the opposite cheek and then pulled his fingers out. He placed his heavy cock against the loosened hole and Aegon had a fully body shiver.

“You’re ready now aren’t you? Mmmm yes I can feel it…” Aemond leans down, kissing and licking up Aegon’s spine before nuzzling his nape clear of hair and giving it a kiss. He kisses it more, slowly, sucking softly and then biting just hard hard to leave little indents but not a bruise. “You’re a bitch in heat, and I’m going to give you what you crave,” he whispers, before pressing his wide tip inside.

Aegon clenches around him but then relaxes, knowing exactly what he has to do. “Gods,” he whimpers, “so good…nothing like it…more…?”

The sweet little question mark at the end made Aemond’s heart flutter and he pressed in further, his naked chest now against Aegon’s naked back fully and the skin on skin contact had them both groaning in pleasure. It wasn’t long before Aemond was fucking deep inside Aegon, his cock now sliding easily in and out, the his tip nudging that special spot that didn’t seem to have a name despite Aemond’s anatomical research. When he pushed it even further his fat tip slammed into it and Aegon had to have his face pressed into the feather pillow to quiet him.

“Shhhhhhh!” Aemond hissed between heavy pants. “Don’t want the guards to hear you do you? Don’t want the white cloaks knowing their King wishes he could carry a child do you? Mmm…we are gods though aren’t we? Perhaps the ancient blood magic in our veins will make it possible somehow…”

Aemond was in that frenzy he entered when he was close to spilling. Aegon was panting, mumbling with delirious happiness. He had cum already from the tightening Aemond has felt during a particularly rough few thrusts perhaps a full hour ago. Though Aemond may have better stamina Aegon could certainly take it.

“Yes, please,” Aegon panted, looking back at Aemond with that slack mouthed, near fucking *drooling* with pleasure look that drove Aemond crazy. Even if tomorrow Aegon called him names in front of his knights Aemond would think back to this moment and let it roll off him. Or perhaps he’d remember it, and use it against Aegon the next time this happened.

“Breed me, Aemond,” Aegon Targaryen’s second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm begged of his brother. His hands reaching behind him to spread his ass cheeks wider and allow the cock inside at a dizzying angle for them both.

Aemond nearly bit off his own tongue trying to stifle his cry as he came, pressing as far as he could go inside Aegon and spilling everything he had. He collapsed on top of Aegon, who with a few more thrusts cried out into the pillow again as he spilled more onto the sheets. They throbbed in near unision, Aegon’s pulses causing his hole to tighten at the base of Aemond’s cock, milking him more.

It took awhile before their breathing returned to anything nearing normal, and Aemond pressed his lips close to Aegon’s ear before he pulled out. “You may call me your loyal hound, my King, but you’re my bitch in heat aren’t you?”

Aegon whined, nodded, and seeming to know Aemond would ask for words he whispered his assent in their mother tongue.

Aemond licked at the bite he’d given him on his neck, Then moved to the side to settle back in to sleep as the twilight of the early morning began to chase away the dark of the night.

“I must…get back to my chambers…” Aegon mumbled, half asleep already it seemed. Aemond pulled Aegon against his chest, spooning around him protectively and placing one hand on how softly rounded lower stomach. “no need…my door is barred. You can leave through the passage you came. Don’t worry, my dear, dear love. Our secret is safe.”

Aegon was snoring already. Aemond smiled, and fell asleep quickly. In the morning…they would try breeding again. He’d heard it was more likely to take the more you tried.

[revelboo]

Crooked Ways

TFP Wheeljack x reader- yandere

He's back. Heart beginning to race, you push up from where you'd been stretched out to back up into the corner against the wall. Not that it would make any difference to the giant, metal jerk who's kidnapped you. Wheeljack. The big slab of hard metal you're trapped on vibrates under your feet with his heavy steps as he rounds the corner and comes into sight.

Mostly white slashed with red and green, your personal nightmare scans the room with those hateful, pretty blue eyes, those weird fins on his back lifting slightly before finding you. Like he thought you'd finally decided to throw yourself headfirst from the high surface he keeps you on in his ship. You'd already checked and there was no way to climb down without hurting yourself. As much as you enjoy spiting him, a fall isn't worth it.

Dropping your eyes just because it annoys him when you refuse to meet his, you wait. Surprisingly, he lets it go without a comment. Still silent, he drops a grease-stained fast food bag on the metal slab nearer him than you. Your stomach growls as soon as you smell the food, and you try very hard to not think about where he's gotten it. Or the collateral damage he's probably caused.

When you look up, those scarred lips are twisting into a knowing smile. "Not hungry?" That low, drawling voice elicits a shiver from you as you squint up at him.

Hating that you like the sound of his voice. That you're trapped and helpless and can't figure out what his game is. What he wants from you. Eyes narrowing, you stare at the bag. Of course you're hungry. He only lets you off the berth twice a day for a trip to the husk of a gas station, because by some miracle no one's shut the water off yet. While a good portion of the building is burned out and in real danger of collapsing at any moment, there are still dead coolers with hot soda and shelves of chips and candy.

Hot food, though? Glancing up at his face, at that smirk, you move closer to the bag. Every muscle tenses as you keep an eye on those huge hands. It isn't like he had to lure you over with food. He could just snatch you up if he wants to, a fact your bruised arms, sides, and hips can attest to. Funnily, you don't think he means to hurt you, he just doesn't understand how delicate you are compared to him. And when he does grab you it's to stare down at you with a scowl like your very existence offended him. There's always something just there, unspoken between you and you were so sick of it.

You're almost to the bag when he places both big hands on the berth on either side of it. It's a dare to come closer. A challenge. Blowing out a breath, you debate just refusing to make him angry. Of refusing to play this stupid new game.

A low, rumbling growl of annoyance escapes him. "It's not poisoned."

Sure. Body taut as a wire to run like hell if he so much as twitches, you dart for the bag, grab it, and run straight back to the corner. He stiffens, big fingers curling under into fists, but he doesn't grab for you. Heart still frantic, you slide down with your back to the wall and tear into the food.

If he has a problem with your manners, he keeps it to himself. Just staring down at you as you lick mayonnaise off your fingers, biting into a slightly cold hamburger. The constant frowning and staring is going to give you a complex, though the kidnapping and giant, alien robot is probably going to scar you for life, too.

"Good?"

Eyes darting up to meet his and then away, you do a little frowning of your own. Why did he care? Maybe it was the giant, robot equivalent of a doggy treat? A reward for not trying to goad him into crushing you or for not screaming at him in frustrated despair? Not responding or just straight up ignoring him would set off his quick temper, so you nod obediently.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you like you're the problem and he just needs to solve you, he huffs at you. Chewing and swallowing another bite, you lick your lips.

"When are you going to let me go?" You ask softly, body steeling for the fight that question always spawns.

Yep. His expression darkens to a lot of thunderous fury, that deep, angry rumbling in his chest growing as he shoves away from the wall and just walks away. From deeper in the ship, something crashes into a wall, and you hunch your shoulders as he goes on a rampage of fury, voice rising in that language you can't understand. Hands shaking, you lose your appetite, drawing your legs up against your body and resting your cheek on your knees, because he's never letting you go.

He doesn't want you here. But can't let you go, either. He’s as trapped as you are.

Next

[koolades-world]

making a part two for my solomon birthmark fic because i was already tempted and 1 (one) person agreed with me lol. shoutout to my birthmark twin @mahi-does-obey-me. i know i said i'd post something else today but the temptation was too great. i worked on this instead of doing my data analysis for my lab lmao <3

part of this was partially inspired by me actually missing a couple birthmarks on myself because I just forgot, or didn’t know they were there until like yesterday lol. just like before, leans suggestive (more so than part 1 i think) but it's very cute. this is probably the raunchiest i'll be getting for a while lol. i feel like i really cooked with this

faded scar

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Solomon stretched his arms high above his head. His muscles gleaned with sweat, highlighting his surprisingly toned torso. He scooted to the edge of his bed, and swung his legs onto the ground.

"Can it wait just a few more minutes?" Despite being tired, you sat up and leaned against his back. You threw one arm over his shoulder, and the other was braced against him.

"It can. We can just order in instead." He reached for his D.D.D.

"You were planning on cooking?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I thought it would be cute to present you with a home cooked meal. Because I love you."

"That's alright. You do enough already." You laughed at that thought. You were glad he was deterred from cooking so easily today. You'd like your house to not be set on fire today.

"What do you want for dinner?" You peaked over his shoulder at his screen.

"Can we get Italian please? From my favorite place?" You fluttered your eyelashes at him when he glanced over at you. It worked every time, although you knew you didn't need that extra convincing.

"Of course, my love." He'd do anything you asked him, regardless if that was ordering your favorite food, or abandon the exchange program. It was funny how that worked; a demon started this in order to bring the three realms closer, and as a result, he just brought two humans together that could pose a real threat to what he'd created.

'You're the best!" You pressed a kiss on the back of his neck. He already knew exactly what you wanted, so no more words needed to be said. You studied his back profile. It was littered with countless old scars and pact markings. It clearly displayed the long life he'd lived.

“Sorry about these.” You traced your fingers over the angry red scratches on his back that were beginning to puff up.

“I’ll wear them like the badges of honor they are.” Solomon chuckled.

"You can't do that! The others are going to see." The idea of everyone seeing the marks and connecting the dots mortified you.

"That's not what you said when you gave those to me." He remarked. You smacked his back in response.

"Solomon!" You squealed.

"I can't promise anything." He held the hand that was dangling over his shoulder and kissed it. "Food will be here in about half an hour." He set his phone back down, but he didn't move. He let out a deep breath, and relaxed his back muscles. You watched as the tension left his body.

Neither of you spoke, and instead, you charted each and every mark on his back with your finger. In this searching, you found a line of birthmark down his back. It wasn't very neat, but it followed a pattern, starting at the base of his neck and ending at his hips. Maybe it was a result of all of the magic he'd done over the years, since you'd gathered he didn't know he had them.

"You didn't tell me you had so many birthmarks on your back." As you drew a line from the first to the last mark, a shudder wracked through his entire body.

"And you didn't tell me you had a birthmark on the front of your shoulder, and under your lip." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"I do?" You placed your head on his shoulder, to which he gently thumbed the spot where it must've been.

"How'd you notice that?" You reached up to touch the spot for yourself, not sure what you were expecting to feel.

"The same way you noticed mine. I did a lot of staring at your face for little while." Solomon admitted.

"You stared a lot of other placed too." You playfully rolled your eyes. You went back to staring at his back. You could only think of doing one thing to return the favor of what he'd done for you.

Carefully, starting at his neck, you kissed each and every birthmark, making sure to linger just long enough to make him itch for more. He let out a shaky breath, and seemed like he was suppressing another shudder. You giggled, but didn't stop. "Just remember, food will be here soon." You reminded him of the order he'd placed.

"You're the worst." He sharply inhaled.

"Love you too, baby." You played with the wisps of hairs at the nape of his neck. He squeezed your free hand a couple times, but made no move to stop you. Once you'd made it to the last birthmark, you lingered for a moment, letting your breath fan out over his lower back.

Solomon let out a gasp of what you could only describe as frustration. He threw his legs back up onto the bed, and laid down on his back, yanking the covers over himself. You stifled laughter and draped yourself over his torso. He gave you a peck where he'd pointed out your new birthmark, before letting you settle into him. He checked his D.D.D. quickly for the time.

"We still have twenty more minutes before food gets here." He let you know.

"So that means we have nineteen more minutes of cuddling." You hummed.

"We have fifteen more minutes of cuddling. I need time to put clothes on, dear." You grumbled at his response. You didn't verbally answer, but you knew you could get your nineteen minutes of cuddling whether he liked it or not.

The activities of the day had begun to catch up to you, and you felt your eyelids begin to droop. A couple times, you felt yourself falling asleep, and shook yourself awake, much to Solomon's amusement. You weren't sure how much time had passed before he spoke to you again.

“I think love is being by your side.”

“Huh?” You mumbled, already half asleep.

“When we first met, you ask me what I thought love was. I never answered you.”

“You’re adorable.” You planted a kiss on his neck, since your face was already buried in it.

You were glad you’d chosen him.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hiii love your writing omg could you do like. enemies with benefits banter. (w hero x villain obvi) (eg u don’t have to do the nsfw but like the banter)

“So.”

“So?”

The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest as their eyes scanned the villain. From their feet right up to their head. As always, their eyes were hypnotising and the villain almost got a little too distracted.

Sometimes they wished they weren’t as invested as they were. Sometimes they wished they returned to their bitter and cold self.

But, Christ, they were so much happier.

“Is there something you would like to confess?” the hero asked. They almost sounded disappointed.

“Uhh…like how I’d rather watch you undress right now?”

The hero tilted their head and took a step forward. Immediately, the villain could see how their grip on their weapon tightened and instinctively, the villain reached for their own. They were gonna get their ass kicked if they didn’t make the right moves.

“What?” the hero asked, smirking now. “Are you scared?”

“Scared or turned on. Haven’t really decided yet.” Within seconds, the hero managed to push the villain against the wall. One hand on the villain’s shoulder, pinning them against the hard wall, the other still holding the hero’s weapon — a gun this time — and pressing it against the villain’s jaw.

“Well, you better figure out what you’re feeling in the next few seconds because I’m just gonna ask once. You robbed a bank this morning. Where’s the money?”

“Already spent all of it,” the villain said. They shrugged but had to smile when the hero’s eyes widened in shock.

“On what?”

“Oh, I just…” The villain’s fingertips touched the hero’s wrist gently and followed the large scar down the hero’s forearm. They remembered the injury a little too well. A badly broken arm that had needed months to recover fully. To be honest, they didn’t even need the money. They just (desperately) wanted the hero’s attention. “…I just wanted to spoil a certain someone. You know. Dinner, vacation, shopping. All that stuff.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Despite their words, the hero was blushing. Their grip around their gun loosened as they were lost in thought and the villain seized the opportunity to turn the tables and grab the hero and turn them. As a result, they pushed them against the wall, making sure they were gentle with the hero’s ribs. They were still bruised from a recent fight.

The villain leaned in and let their breath hit the hero’s exposed neck.

Probably one of the most sensitive parts of the hero’s body.

“It’s a bit much. But I’m willing to treat you like royalty. I mean who wouldn’t? After such a night…”

“Hey.” The hero pushed the villain’s face away from them, embarrassed. “I’m here for the money you stole, not for…you know, not for…”

“And I just wanted to see you,” the villain answered. They took in a deep breath dramatically. “Is that such a sin?”

“You know, most people separate their work and personal life,” the hero said. Again, the villain’s face came closer and this time, the hero only rolled their eyes and tried to dodge their gaze.

“Well, the first time we got…personal was at work,” the villain reminded them. It had been a very eye opening experience, that was clear.

The hero’s blush deepened and it became quite apparent to the villain that they were a little tired today. They always got a little shy when they didn’t have enough energy.

“Hm. Alright, alright. I guess that’s all the time I’m gonna steal from you today. Don’t want you to be overworked and then all exhausted next time we have—”

“Alright,” the hero said quickly. “Just give me the money and I won’t arrest you.”

“Mmm…fine.” The villain let their eyes drop to the hero’s lips. One last tease. “Feel free to visit me this evening.”

“We’ll see.” As always, that meant they’d be there.

At eight o’clock sharp.

[starrylothcat]

For the 'sweet and intimate actions' prompts you reblogged, may I request some 12 (Character B tucking Character A’s head under their chin while they’re cuddling) with a touch of 13 (Character B nuzzling their neck and breathing in Character A’s scent/fragrance, and commenting on how nice they smell) with Rex and short fem!reader?

No obligation! (eternal-transcience)

With You

Pairing: Rex x Fem!Reader, but can also be Gen!Reader

Warnings: None. Fluff, fluffy fluffy fluff. Kissing, but nothing explicit. Established relationship.

WC: ~700

Summary: You and Rex share a morning in bed.

A/N: Hello @eternal-transcience ! Thank you so much for the ask. Rex is King and I haven’t written for him in awhile, so I was happy to get this request! I was possessed by the Fluff Gods and wrote this fluffy lil’ piece for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Prompts taken from Sweet and Intimate Actions list.

You woke slowly, blinking sleep out of your eyes and stretching under the pile of blankets that lay on top of you.

You instinctively reached over, hoping your hand would meet the warmth of Rex’s shoulder or chest, but instead found empty mattress.

You frowned, knowing he had probably been up for hours working on reports. You never expected Rex to toss aside his duties for you, but sometimes he didn’t know when to take a break.

You sat up fully, ready to find Rex and drag him back to bed.

As your feet hit the carpeted floor, the bedroom door opened and Rex stepped in, holding two cups of hot caf.

“Good morning.” He smiled softly, the wrinkles you loved so much appearing at the sides of his eyes. It was something he was self-conscious about, but you lived to see those wrinkles, since they only appeared when he was smiling. When he was happy.

He set the caf down on your nightstand, kissing your forehead as he did so.

“How long have you been awake?” You asked, watching as he strode to his side of the bed, placing his caf down as he sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Not long. Figured you’d be up soon, thought I’d take it slow this morning.”

You grinned, settling back into bed as he did the same. Rex pulled you into him, placing his chin on your head, and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He knew you loved this, being so close to him and safe in his arms.

“Taking it slow is something we never get to do.” You mumbled as you snuggled even closer to him, his strong arms draped around your smaller form, huddled entirely to his warm, solid body.

Rex hummed, stroking your back in gentle, rhythmic movements that made your eyelids droopy.

“I know…” He kissed the top of your head. “That’s why I’m back in bed.”

You removed your head from his neck, taking in everything that was him. He was basked in the early morning light, tanned muscle decorated with scars of different shapes and sizes that you have traced and memorized time and time again.

Rex was resolute in so many things. His duty to the Republic. His love for his brothers. His dedication to you. You will always be a loving and safe place for him, just as he is for you.

He was beautiful in all sense of the word. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him by your side.

He must have been thinking the same as you as his gentle honeyed eyes met yours. He wordlessly brought a calloused hand to your cheek, capturing your lips in a long, worshipful kiss. You sighed against his lips, lightly running your fingertips over his buzzed head. He hummed in delight, deepening the kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Rex laid you down on your back, covering his body with yours as he kissed you. You moved together in practiced rhythm, a loving dance that didn’t need words.

When you both finally parted for air, Rex gazed down at you with such reverence you felt butterflies explode in your stomach. He somehow always made you feel like you were meeting for the first time, enraptured by one another’s presence.

“I love you.” You whispered, mirroring his motion from before, stroking his cheek right below his eye. His eyes fluttered close at your touch, leaning into your hand. Rex slowly and carefully laid down on top of you, slightly off to the side to not crush you under his weight.

It was his turn to nuzzle himself into you, hearing him inhale and feeling him smile against your skin. “So sweet…” Rex rumbled, pressing his lips to your neck. “Always so sweet for me…” You felt his body relax against yours, his large hand finding your smaller one.

“I love you too, mesh’la. No matter where I am in the galaxy.”

You both lay there, tangled in one another, enjoying the quiet calm of the morning before you or Rex were called back to reality. The caf sat at your bedside tables, getting cold as you let yourselves be lost in one another.

It was a small slice of paradise, a glimpse of a peaceful life you could hopefully have one day, and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

Taglist: @crosshairlovebot @sev-on-kamino @kimiheartblade @wizardofrozz @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @kashasenpai @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @aconstructofamind @dreamie411 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @starqueensthings @idontgetanysleep @secretthegriffin @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @secondaryrealm @littlemissmanga @coraex @maybethatfanfictionwriter @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @sleepingsun501 @cw80831 @dangraccoon @mythical-illustrator @din-miller

Dividers by @freesia-writes (Rex) and @saradika

[rainandandy]

I just finished reading all your rain fanfics and I need more😭🙏

could you write another one please? fem reader or gn whichever you prefer! established relationship.

reader is extremely clingy to rain, always wants to be in some physical contact, probably due to past traumas. she's just slightly shorter than rain.

I'm not really sure about what else I should request rn tbh😭 maybe I will come up with another idea later??? but rn I literally just finished your stories and want another one so I'm not thinking much on it BAHAHA THANK YOU FOR DOING SUCH A SERVICE TO THE RAIN / CAILEE FANDOM😭🫡

Thanks for reading! ❤️❤️

Living in Jackson’s Star wasn’t easy. You had grown up here, surrounded by the harsh, industrial environment, but it held ghosts. Every time you walked past the mines, you could still hear the echoes of that day, of the collapse. It was years ago, but the memory of the accident, the dust, the darkness, and the loss of your parents lingered like a scar you couldn’t hide.

Rain Carradine, your partner, was one of the few lights in your life. She had a way of seeing through the darkness, like she could part the clouds with just her presence. You had met her during one of your darker days, and since then, she had become your anchor. But that came with complications, ones you tried to hide.

Your trauma had made you clingy. Not in an obvious way—at least, you didn’t think so. But being near Rain, touching her, feeling her warmth or the reassuring brush of her hand, it kept the nightmares at bay. She was taller than you, just slightly, and when you were close, you could press your forehead against her shoulder, feel the security of her heartbeat against yours. It was grounding, and you needed it more than you wanted to admit.

Even now, as you sat in the small makeshift home you shared, your leg rested against hers while you both listened to her synthetic brother, Andy, ramble on about some old story from before he had malfunctioned. His voice was a bit glitchy, the software not perfect, but there was an innocence in him that Rain adored, and because she adored him, you did too.

Tyler and Kay had dropped by earlier, along with Bjorn and Navarro. They were good friends—solid, trustworthy—but sometimes their presence only heightened your need to be near Rain. You’d stand next to her while they talked, your arm brushing against hers. Sometimes, if you were really distracted, you’d wrap your pinky around hers or lean against her when no one was looking.

You knew you were being too clingy. You knew it wasn’t normal. But the fear, the gnawing, cold fear of being alone again, of losing someone again, wouldn’t leave you. The mine accident had stolen everything from you once, and you weren’t going to let it happen again.

“Hey, you okay?” Rain asked softly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing you had been staring at the wall, lost in your own head. “Yeah,” you mumbled, shifting slightly so you didn’t seem so attached to her. You moved to pull your leg away from hers, but she placed a hand on your thigh, keeping the contact.

“I know you better than that,” she said, her voice gentle, her gaze piercing. “You don’t have to hide how you feel around me.”

Your heart raced at her words, and a part of you felt exposed. “I’m not hiding anything,” you whispered, but it was a weak argument, and Rain knew it.

“Babe, I’ve known you long enough to see when you’re struggling.” She gave you a soft smile, leaning closer so her forehead touched yours. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her touch was a balm to the ache inside you, and you sighed, leaning into her. The closeness of her, the scent of her hair, and the warmth of her skin calmed the storm that always seemed to loom over you. “It’s just…sometimes, it feels like if I’m not near you, I’ll lose you too.”

Rain didn’t flinch at your words, didn’t pull away or tell you that you were being too much. Instead, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “I’m not going anywhere. And even if you cling to me like a barnacle, I’m not going to complain. You know that, right?”

You chuckled softly, though it was shaky. “A barnacle?”

She grinned, that playful sparkle in her eye that you loved so much. “A very cute barnacle.”

Andy, who had been listening in his usual silent way, suddenly chimed in, his voice stuttering slightly as he spoke. “Barnacles… are essential to the ecosystem. Without them… the underwater structures would collapse.”

Rain and you both laughed at that, and she kissed the top of your head. “See? Even Andy gets it.”

Tyler and Kay returned with Bjorn and Navarro, and the evening grew livelier. But even then, with all the laughter and conversation swirling around the room, Rain kept a hand on your back, tracing gentle circles as if to remind you she was there, and you weren’t alone. You stayed close, resting your head against her shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest as she laughed at one of Bjorn’s wild stories.

To the others, it might have looked like casual affection between two people in love. But to you, it was everything. It was the lifeline you needed to keep going, to fight back the fear that threatened to swallow you whole.

Later that night, after everyone had left, and it was just you and Rain again, she pulled you into her arms under the worn, patchy blankets. She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t press you for answers. Instead, she just held you, her breath soft against your skin as she whispered, “You’ll always be safe with me.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed her.

[hoodietypinggg]

Shiu kong x reader x Toji Fushiguro

A/N: pffffffff last time i tried writing was like in,,,,,,,, 2019-2020 please go easy on me. Shat this at ass o'clock when i felt particularly very much single, barely proof read HAHA iss v self-indulgent. Probably most likely ooc.

Enjoy

-Fluff-

Imagine feeling the bed dip and covers rustle around you through the haze of sleep, eyeballs rolling around but lids kept shut with the weight of dreams. A light kiss is deposited on you cheek. It's Shiu sliding in for the night after having finished whatever was on his tasks list of the day, bringing icy fingers and the familiar scent of cigs and woody cologne into the little cocoon you've made for yourself.

"Sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you up", he huffs with an audible grin when you let out an airy whine. You jolt at the feeling of his cold hands grip onto you as he moves you gently.

The man maneuvers as quick as possible to set you on his chest, your ear next to his heart and limbs and body comfortably settled to be his personal weighted blanket; your usual sleep setup. The covers are pulled up and over your back once again and one big paw of a hand cups the back of your neck to keep you close. A sigh of relief is felt at the top of your head as Shiu nuzzles into your hair and muscles visibly relaxing under you. Warmth increases under the blanket with the addition of another body on the mattress; for some reason, Shiu runs hot like a furnace but has colder extremities than Jack Frost.

You glance with blurry vision at the alarm by the bedside table, the red digits telling you that it's one of the rare nights where at least one of your boys gets home before the clubs down the street close. A yawn is pulled from you at the slowing rise and fall of Shiu' breath. Legs gently tangle together and you nuzzle closer into the crook where his chin and neck meet.

"Fancy to see you 'round here so 'rly," your voice crows and slurs with sleep still threatening to pull you under.

"Well lucky you, been missing m' pretty baby too much to accept another round of mahjong with the boys," Shiu chuckles. His hand at this point has warmed to a comfortable degree from your combined heat and he slides it down to your back to give you gentle rubs, "now go back to sleep."

Not much was needed to lull you back down, with the rumble of his voice purring out his reply and comforting arm weighting down on you, you were already halfway to dreamland.

.

The second awakening of the night is far less tender, as the last of your trio literally lets himself dogpile onto your sleeping forms. A wall of muscles comes falling down on your back, covering you up so much that anyone would've thought that there was just Shiu and Toji on the bed.

You startle out of your flowers and stars filled dream as the yelp you released gets cut silent from the sudden rush of air out of your lungs. Instincts kick in and you attempt to curl into yourself like an armadillo, only to drive your knee up into Shiu's unfortunate family jewels from your entangled position. The man's painful choke and tightening grip around your waist is enough to inform you of his misery. Contrasting those motions are the rhythmic contraction and release of Toji's abdomen from his silent laughter. His delight is also felt in the light shaking of the entire bed as he affectionately rubs and nuzzles his face against the back of your shoulder and nape.

"You're getting too lax shiu. Sleeping like the dead, wouldn't be able to protect our sweetheart from sneaky rats" Toji snickers, arms slowly tightening the hug he has you trapped in. You faintly feel him grin, imagining the slight stretch of his scar from his pleased expression.

The handler wheezes and lets out a cough at the comment.

"Fu-*cough*-fuck you, holy shit. Would've shot you if I didn't know better, you dick," true to his words, the heartbeat next to your ear is drumming away and shiu has his finger wrapped around the trigger above his head. "Besides, who else could get me passed out like this if not darlin'?"

Toji hums as if in agreement, though not stopping the affection he's been showering you, now adding kisses and nibbles wherever he can reach. They make you lightly giggle from the ticklish feeling. Your airy sounds of happiness fills the otherwise quiet room and the two men simply relish in it. Content of this little piece of heaven bestowed to them in the pits of Hell they call Earth.

"Nobody does it better than sweetheart."

Once finally satiated, Toji quickly removes his t-shirt and changes out of his day pants before slipping his way under the covers too. He pulls you from draping on Shiu to only half lying on your side and slides a hand up your sleep shirt to rest on your stomach. the press of his front to your back cements your spot between the two men and Toji takes the opportunity to litter more kisses on the back of your neck.

"Soft as a bunny and cute as a button, we're keeping you here fer sure," Shiu grunts as he rolls in a bit closer, delivering a peck of his own on your forehead. Toji expresses his agreement with a mean nip to the junction of your shoulder and neck as if marking their property.

"Fuck it, we're sleeping in," you barely hear your partner behind you mumbles, eyes already shut tight.

It's okay, tomorrow's a day off anyways.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I Breathe It, Believe It (I'm Getting What I Need)

A/N: I heard that 2025 is the year of unhinged, and this is certainly the most unhinged thing I've ever written! But hey, at least it's not a cursed foursome... yet. Anyways! Happy final day of @rhystaappreciationweekend! Enjoy some more smut including beast!Rhys 😏

Read on AO3

Cassian shook his hair out from the flight before stepping through the doors and into the warmth of Rita's. Music from a band in the far corner filled the whole space, a light and jovially tune, but even through that Cassian could still hear the sharp, familiar sound of words meant to slice, meant to bite. With a low chuckle, he moved toward the bar, finding his High Lady already perched on a seat, her lips tugged down in a frown and a glass of amber liquid cradled between her palms.

"What is it this time?" Cassian asked, daring to glance toward the other end of the bar.

Toward the pair standing toe to toe. The pair with twin glares, twin scars if you asked Cassian, but both would probably kill him if he dared to say that particular observation aloud. Though he couldn't hear exactly what was said, there was no mistaking Rhys's lips pulling back in a snarl, no mistaking the unimpressed roll of Nesta's eyes.

"I don't even know," Feyre sighed, taking a long swig of her drink. "But it's the third fight this week, and we don't even see each other that often."

"It's just a bit of arguing," Cassian offered with an easy shrug. "Me and Rhys used to fight all the time when we were younglings, often with fists instead of just words. Same with Rhys and Az. And don't even get me started on Amren and Mor when they first met."

"And yet, look at you all now. You'd never know. So how did you fix it?"

"Sex."

"I'm being serious, Cassian."

"So am I," Cassian chuckled easily, lifting a hand and flicking Feyre in the forehead teasingly. "You need to let go of those stupid human morals, Fey. This is Prythian. Long lives make fae more… open with one another."

"So what are you suggesting? Rhys and Nesta fuck their problems away?" Feyre drawled, her tone clearly sarcastic.

But despite her tone, Cassian couldn't find it within himself to disagree. In fact, now that the suggestion was out there, it was genius really. Already, a grin began to split his face, Feyre eyes widening at his expression.

"Cassian," Feyre exclaimed, slapping his arm.

"What better way for them to get out their frustrations?"

Feyre nibbled on her lip, glancing over her shoulder and toward Nesta and Rhys before turning back to Cassian, leaning in closer and dropping her voice. "Do you really think it would work? How would we even get them to agree to that?"

"Oh, leave that part to me."

~ * * * ~

Nesta pads her way down the long, stretching hall, her soft steps echoing off the red stone walls around her. The bright sound of feminine laughter reaches her on a soft breeze, and when Nesta turns the corner into the large, main living room of the House, she's surprised to find her mate sitting with her youngest sister and her own mate.

"Nes!" Cassian greets brightly and gestures toward the space beside him on the sofa. "Join us."

"I didn't realize we were expecting company," Nesta comments, noting the spread of drinks on the low coffee table when she steps further into the room. "What's all this?"

"We're celebrating," Feyre tells her, something about her expression giving Nesta pause as she settles into the seat next to Cassian.

"Celebrating what?" Nesta asks slowly, glancing between her sister and mate.

"It's a secret apparently," Rhysand grumbles from where he's lounging in an armchair, looking as unimpressed with this day's turn of events as Nesta feels.

"Here," Cassian cuts in to say. He reaches toward the array of drinks, picking up two small glasses filled with some sort of deep blue swirling liquid and handing one each to Nesta and Rhysand. "Drink up."

Nesta raises a questioning eyebrow, but at Cassian's wide grin and encouraging nod, she takes the drink, quickly throwing it back. The liquid seems to almost bubble as it slides down her throat, and her nose scrunches at the strange metallic taste that blooms across the back of her tongue. Her vision seems to blur for a moment before refocusing again, and Nesta blinks away the strange sensation, shaking her head slightly.

"Gods, what was that?" she asks, coughing into her elbow.

"What we're celebrating."

Nesta's breath hitches of its own accord at the sound of Cassian's voice, the deep timbre of it like warm whiskey flowing through her veins. And she feels oh so warm. Embers practically crackle beneath her skin, relaxing her muscles and leaving her fingers and toes tingling. Her heart skips over itself in her chest, and it takes all her willpower to swallow down the shudder threatening to shake her to the core.

Before Nesta can begin to wrap her mind around the reaction such simple words could draw from her, the cushions of the sofa shift beside her. The scent of pine and fresh snow fill her senses and then Cassian's lips are pressing against her cheek, that touch only seeming to warm her skin even more.

"Have fun, sweetheart."

"What have you done?" Rhysand asks, his voice strained, and when Nesta looks over toward him, his hands are gripping the arms of his chair hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

"We're helping the two of you to finally get along," Feyre explains easily, her smile bright as she strides across the room and toward Cassian and the balcony doors.

Cassian's grin is nothing short of shit-eating as he takes Feyre's hand. "The Night Court way."

In the blink of an eye, the two of them vanish, winnowing to gods know where, and it takes Nesta a moment too long to clear the fog in her mind enough to realize they must have changed the wards when they planned this whole thing.

Whatever this thing is.

Shaking her head again, Nesta tries to will her mind to focus, to wrap around whatever Cassian and Feyre could have possibly planned, but it feels impossible. Her entire body feels hot all over, heart beginning to pound between her ribs, a beat that's echoed lower still. Echoed between her thighs. The scent of citrus and the sea wraps around her limbs, and though unfamiliar, it still feels like a caress across her skin, still rocks her enough that she whimpers quietly, fingers fisting into the skirts of her dress.

"Rhÿwiol," Rhysand says, his own chest starting to heave. "They must have laced the drinks with Rhÿwiol. It causes heightened… arousal."

Now that he's said the words, there's no denying that arousal is exactly what Nesta feels. Desire swirls low in her gut, tightening and twisting in time with every thunderous beat of her heart. It scrapes across her skin and purrs in the back of her mind. Already, she can feel a pressure building between her thighs, an ache threatening to take hold. Already, that voice whispers to take, whispers for more, whispers to be filled.

She feels completely dizzy with it, and Nesta closes her eyes, tries to breathe deeply and calm herself, but every breath in simply fills her lungs with more of that citrus and sea salt scent. Fills her lungs with more of Rhysand's own arousal.

"There's no point trying to fight it. Fighting it only makes it worse… and makes the effects last longer. All you can do is wait for it to pass or fuck it out of your system."

The explanation does little to soothe Nesta's already frayed nerve endings. This was certainly not what she was expecting when she woke up this morning. Sweat begins to prickle across her skin with every second that passes, a too familiar wetness pooling between and coating the inside of her thighs, and it's clear there's only one way out of this.

Only one solution to sate the need desperately clawing through her, to fill that empty ache that thrums inside her.

With a quiet huff to herself, Nesta shifts against the cushions of the sofa to get more comfortable. She leans back against the pillows and spreads her legs wider, enough that she can reach a hand up under the skirts of her dress. She doesn't waste her time with the teasing touches she'd normally use to work herself up, to ease herself into the mood. None of the fingertip light touches along her inner thigh, none of the teasing circles across her lower abdomen.

She feels much too desperate for any of that.

Instead, she reaches directly for her cunt. She supposes she shouldn't be surprised to find her panties already drenched. Shouldn't be surprised at the way her body immediately responds to the simplest of touches, even through a layer of fabric. A gasp tumbles free from her throat before she can swallow it down, her hips jumping at that first, single swipe of her own fingertips.

"What are you doing?"

Nesta rolls her eyes at Rhysand's question, not pausing her fingers as she traces a line up to her clit. "What does it look like? You said yourself that you have to fuck it out of your system."

"So what? You just intend to get yourself off?"

"Well, I certainly don't expect you to be able to help."

Rhysand growls at that, and when Nesta dares to glance toward him, she finds he's pushed forward in his seat. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Nesta makes a big show of dragging her gaze up and down Rhysand's frame, keeping her expression decidedly unimpressed. Rhysand is on his feet and in Nesta's face in an instant. His hands settle on the sofa cushions either side of Nesta's head, and this close together, the scent of him, the scent of his arousal is all consuming. She can see just how blown his pupils are, the violets of his eyes almost completely swallowed. She can see the way his lip curls with a snarl.

"I am over five hundred years old. I have had more females and males warm my bed than you could even imagine, and I can guarantee you that not a single one ever left unsatisfied."

Nesta merely raises a single eyebrow. "Sounds like a lot of empty words to me."

Nesta has barely finished speaking before Rhysand's own hand snaps beneath her skirts. His fingers curl around her wrist, squeezing once in warning before he yanks her hand away completely. Nesta whines at the loss of pressure, trying to fight against Rhysand's grip, but the effort is futile.

He drops to his knees between her spread thighs, slowly pushing the fabric of her skirts all the way up until they're bunched around her waist. It's almost strange, seeing the High Lord of the Night Court on his knees before her, but even as Nesta's breath hitches in her lungs, that need and heat climb ever higher where they burn in her veins, flames licking across her skin and clawing up her throat. It begs and begs and begs.

"Is this part of the satisfying females?"

Rhysand's eyes flare at the drawling question, and before Nesta can even blink, he's torn her panties in two. His fingers dig into the flesh of her thighs, grip tight enough to bruise, as he spreads her wider still. And then he buries his face there.

Nesta lets out a gasping moan at the first press of his mouth against her. He licks a thick stripe right over her, and she tosses her head back, daring to reach a hand down and bury her fingers in the short dark strands of Rhysand's hair. The drag of his tongue is hot against her cunt, against her skin, and that heat only seems to radiate up the rest of her body and down to her toes. It twines with those desperate flames already licking through her veins, roaring into a blaze threatening to swallow her whole.

She tries to rock her hips against his face, but matching his pace is easier said than done when he keeps mixing it up. He alternates between pressing teasingly against her entrance and tracing circles over her clit, switching up the speed and intensity until Nesta's head feels dizzy with it all. She can do nothing but hold on, nothing but whimper and moan, while Rhysand continues to devour her.

One of Rhysand's hands reaches for the neckline of her dress, tugging at the fabric until Nesta's breasts spill free. That same hand palms one of her breasts, kneading it and plucking at her nipple in time with the way his mouth continues to work over her cunt. The sensations are all too much, and too quickly Nesta's entire body seizes with pleasure. She comes with a shout, Rhysand groaning against her in response and only elongating her orgasm.

She slumps back against the cushions of the sofa, chest heaving as she catches her breath. She wants to blame the Rhÿwiol for the speed she climbed and tumbled over that precipice, but she knows that would only be the half the truth. The way her cunt still flutters with the aftershocks proof enough.

Rhysand sits back on his haunches, making a big show of wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, the evidence of Nesta's release still glistening against his skin there. He smirks up at her, the expression that of pure male arrogance and bravado.

"Like I said, not a single one unsatisfied."

"Fuck you," Nesta snaps, but the breathless tone to her voice betrays her.

"You better be returning the favor with that smart mouth."

Rhysand pushes up and to his feet, deft fingers making quick work of the laces of his pants. He pushes the fabric down his thighs until his cock bobs free, already hard and heavy where it lays against his thigh. It's long and slightly curved, the head a darker shade and already leaking with his own arousal, and Nesta can't quite look away as Rhysand fists it lazily.

It's like her orgasm barely helped at all, barely banked those flames. They still simmer and writhe just beneath her skin. They still leave an ache, an emptiness pressing between her thighs. They still leave her mouth watering as she watches Rhysand's hand move up and down along his own cock.

Before she can even really think about it, she slides off the sofa and onto her knees, licking her lips in anticipation. But when she looks back up toward Rhysand's face that smirk of his has only grown, so she merely raises his chin in defiance instead.

"Cassian is bigger."

"Then you should have no problem swallowing me down." Rhysand threads the fingers of his free hand into the brassy strands of Nesta's hair, moving her head how he wants her and dragging the head of his cock across her lips. "Now be a good girl and open."

Nesta makes a big show of rolling her eyes, but she obeys the request, parting her lips and sticking out her tongue slightly. Rhysand wastes no time thrusting his hips forward and forcing his cock into her mouth. She moans at the weight of it on her tongue, relaxing her throat as he presses deeper and deeper.

"Well, isn't this quite the sight."

Rhysand pulls his hips back slightly just to thrust right back in, using his grip on her hair to properly fuck her mouth. She slides her tongue along the underside of his cock, her eyes fluttering each time he hits the back of her throat, as she tries to match his movements. She dares to groan around him so he can feel the vibrations, dares to tease the barest hint of her teeth against his skin, and is rewarded with Rhysand's hips stuttering, with a curse echoing from above her.

Perhaps, she can make him come just as fast as she did to get even.

Nesta gasps when she feels a sudden pressure against her thigh, almost choking for a moment and needing to pull back. She continues to stroke Rhysand's cock with her hand, taking the time to catch her breath again and glance down. She's surprised to find a shadow slinking up and circling her thigh, star-flecked and cool against her skin.

That night-kissed shadow stretches higher and higher, and Nesta widens her stance, spreading her thighs just in time for it to drag across her clit. She moans softly at the sensation, the coolness and the pressure, and she grinds her hips down even as she turns her attention back to Rhysand's cock. She licks and suckles at the head before swallowing him back down, moving her head with renewed fervor.

Tears begin to prickle at the corner of her eyes, spit spilling past her lips and down her chest, but still, Nesta doesn't let it deter her. She can feel that desire whispering in her ear again, urging her to please, urging her to take. She's sure that Rhysand must be able to feel those effects too from the way he continues to groan, the way the shadow between her thighs moves to sink fully into her cunt, fucking into her in perfect tandem with the way she moves her head.

She can feel what a mess she's making, what a mess she's become. Her cunt practically drips onto the floor beneath her, her skin all but coated in sweat, in spit and precum. But it all feels too good, and she doesn't want it to stop. She only wants more. Craves it all.

She hollows her cheeks and sucks hard, relaxing her throat as much as she can. It only takes a few more bobs of her head before Rhysand spills down her throat, Nesta moaning softly as she swallows every last drop. She releases his cock with a soft pop, taking a moment to breathe, to lick at her swollen lips, and humming contently at the taste that still clings to the back of her throat.

"Who knew your mouth could be put to such good use after all?" Rhysand tells her, his hand grasping her jaw roughly and his thumb dragging across the swollen mess of her bottom lip.

Nesta wants to roll her eyes, wants to snap at him, but before she can utter a word, the shadow still buried in her cunt seems to grow. She whimpers, her toes curling at the stretch of it, the coolness of it pressing against the walls of her cunt. She works her hips harder against it, grinding down and circling her hips, chasing the building heat and pleasure.

"That's it. Get yourself nice and open for my cock."

Nesta moans at the words. She reaches a hand down between her thighs, fingertips slipping against her swollen clit. A few tight circles against her clit, and she can feel herself edging ever closer to that precipice, can feel another orgasm glimmering just within reach, but before she can go tumbling over, the shadow vanishes. Nesta gasps at the sudden loss, her cunt still fluttering and desperate to be filled.

"What the fuck, you prick?"

Rhysand's answering chuckle is dark and low. With a snap of his fingers both of their clothes are magicked away completely. He slides his hand up and down his cock slowly, his length already hard again. Whether that's from the Rhÿwiol or simply his fae blood, Nesta isn't sure. But she's happy either way, her gaze tracking every movement of his hand with a predatory intent.

"Wouldn't you prefer the real thing?" Rhysand drawls.

He settles on the floor in front of her, pushing at her shoulders until she lies back against the rug. It's like watching a predator stalk it's prey. His eyes trail down her body, goosebumps cascading everywhere that gaze rakes across, until he settles on her cunt, wet and exposed for him. A groan of appreciation rumbles from deep in his chest, and just that sound of praise has Nesta's breath hitching, has her spreading her thighs wider still in invitation.

"What are you waiting for?" Nesta challenges. "Fuck me already."

"Perhaps, I want to hear you beg for it," Rhysand tells her, dragging his cock along her cunt, through the wetness pooled there. "Beg for your High Lord's cock, for me to fill you up."

"High Lord? Still so arrogant even when I know you're just as desperate as me," Nesta fires back, but her words trail off into a gasping moan when the head of his cock catches against her clit.

"Beg for it."

He continues his teasing touches, Nesta's hips jumping and chasing the pleasure every drag of his cock pulls forth. "Please. Rhys—"

She doesn't even need to finish speaking his name. Rhysand presses his hips forward, his cock finally sinking into her cunt. With how wet she is, it doesn't take much for him to bottom out completely, for him to fill her completely, and Nesta moans at that feeling, that stretch.

"Mother save me," Rhysand groans, grinding his hips against her own, somehow pressing his cock deeper still.

"Fuck," Nesta echoes, canting her own hips up. "Move."

Rhysand groans again, but he follows her request. He pulls his hips back just to snap them back forward again. Over and over again he thrusts into her, building up a brutal and punishing rhythm. Nesta hooks her legs around his waist, digging the heels of her feet into his ass to keep him buried deep, keep him just where she needs.

"Taking my cock so well. Can feel the way your sweet cunt keeps squeezing me."

The praise goes straight to Nesta's head, only adding to the pleasure fogging over her every thought. Every drag of his cock against the walls of her cunt sends her higher still, every smack of his hips against her own making her even wetter. The sound of skin on skin is almost as loud as her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Almost as loud as the moans and whimpers that tumble from her lips each time Rhysand's cock drives home.

"But how tight will you squeeze me when you come all over my cock?"

Rhysand's hand reaches between their bodies. His fingers find her swollen clit, moving in tandem with every thrust of his hips.

"Come on. Be a good girl, and I'll fill you up nice and deep, make sure you're absolutely dripping. Don't you want that?"

The words, the way he presses even harder against her clit, it's all too much for Nesta. She doesn't even have time to warn him. She arches up off the rug, another orgasm rocking through her. Her toes curl, and her cunt clenches down hard with the pleasure of it all. She slumps back down against the rug, but she's quickly moaning again when she realizes Rhysand is still moving inside her.

"Please," Nesta pleads. "Rhysand, please…"

A few more thrusts of his hips, and Rhysand buries his cock completing, finding his own release with a groan. Nesta can feel him everywhere. Feel where his cock continues to stretch her and press deep. Feel where his cock twitches as he spills inside her. Feel the warmth of him filling her so completely.

It has her body heating all over again, and she whines when Rhysand pulls back, his cock slipping free. She hates how empty she feels. Hates the wetness she can feels dripping and pooling beneath her. With desperate fingers, she reaches between her thighs, gathering up the mess there and shoving her fingers right back into her cunt.

"Fuck, that's it. Don't waste a drop."

Nesta lets out a contented moan, biting her lip and lifting her hips up slightly, even as she continues to keep her fingers pressed as deep as they can go. She tilts her chin down enough that she can look at Rhysand, the way her cunt clenches down around her fingers almost involuntary when she finds his gaze pinned to where her fingers are buried.

Rhysand's own fingers curl around his cock, stroking himself until he's hard again. His hand glides with ease, a mess from being in her mouth, from being buried in her cunt. Nesta watches a bead of arousal drip from the head and slide down his cock, and that desperate need roars back to life through her veins.

That's hers. Hers to take. Hers to be filled with.

She quickly scrambles to her hands and knees, crawling over to Rhysand. He tracks her movement the whole way, the purple of his eyes long swallowed by his blown pupils.

"Absolutely desperate for cock, aren't you?"

"I need… I need…"

Nesta isn't able to finish the thought, her mind too muddled to form proper words. The pleasure and need so dizzying that all she can focus on is clambering into Rhysand's lap. She knocks his hand away from his cock and replaces it with her own, daring to squeeze when her fingers reach the base. Rhysand's answering groans goes straight to her head, straight to her cunt.

"Let me give you what you need, what we both need," Rhysand assures her, his own hands settling at her hips, grip tight enough to bruise. "Keep you stuffed full of my cock and dripping with my seed."

He pulls her down fully onto his cock, and Nesta cries out at being stretched around him again. It feels too good, and Nesta wastes no time chasing that pleasure, that high. She settles her hands on Rhysand's shoulders, using him for balance as she presses up on her knees and sinks right back down.

She starts to fuck herself on his cock more earnestly, grinding her hips down and dragging her clit across his pelvis each time she sinks down. When he starts to snap his own hips up to meet her movements, Nesta tosses her head back with the pleasure of it all. She arches fully against him, the slide of her peaked nipples against the hard planes of his chest adding to the sensations and leaving her feeling hot all over.

She moans, driving and working her hips harder still, but that sound morphs into a gasp when pain prickles at her hips, the distinct scent of blood flooding her senses. She slows her movements, looking down only to find dark as night talons curled around her hips, breaking the skin there. Before Nesta can fully wrap her mind around what she's seeing, what it means, Rhysand shoves her fully off his lap.

"No," Nesta whines in alarm, her cunt still fluttering and desperately empty.

She tries to reach for Rhysand again, but he merely scrambles further away from her. His chest heaves, and he moves one of his hands to cover his face, but Nesta quickly realizes that hand isn't exactly an accurate description. Long talons extend from where each of his fingers should be, dark scales or maybe feathers cascading up his wrist and forearm.

"I'm sorry… I can't… control…"

Rhysand's whole body seems to shimmer and shudder with whatever he's trying to hold back. Large wings rise over his shoulders and behind his back, and Nesta has to swallow down another gasp. They're nothing like Cassian's or Azriel's wings. Instead, they're like shadows and darkness brought to life where they stretch wide. It's like something straight out a nightmare, something that should terrify her, but all Nesta can feel is another wave of arousal wash over her.

"I can take it," Nesta tells him, lounging back against the rug and spreading her thighs wide again until her cunt is on full display.

An offering for the beast.

"You don't know what you're asking for," Rhysand argues, his voice sounding rough and gravelly.

"I want it."

With a low, deep growl, Rhysand is on her. His talons curl against her thighs, tight enough that Nesta doesn't dare to move a muscle to avoid them piercing the skin. She holds her breath, watching as ever so slowly he lowers his head. The first slide of his tongue against her cunt has her choking out a gasping moan, her hips jumping against his grasp.

She wasn't expecting it to be… forked.

Whether he notices her reaction or not, he merely tugs her closer still, fully burying his face back between her thighs. Nesta can feel the scrape of those black scales against her inner thighs, only adding to the delicious scrape of his tongue against the walls of her cunt. She thought his mouth had been amazing before, but with that forked tongue he can reach deeper than she thought possible, leaving her a mess of moans and whimpers.

She's sure that forked tongue must secrete something because she's never felt wetter in her life, never felt pleasure burn so hot through her veins. But just as soon as it builds her up, it vanishes.

Rhysand pulls back, settling on his haunches. Nesta wants to protest at the loss of his mouth, but then her eyes fall on his cock, long and hard between his thighs. The beast's cock. It's even larger than his normal cock, those same midnight scales echoed across the top like ridges. And at the base, there's a slight swell. It's like nothing she's ever seen, and it has Nesta's toes curling in anticipation.

She gasps when Rhysand leans back into her space, the head of his cock dragging against her cunt, spreading the wetness there along his length. A sound somewhere between a groan and a growl rumbles from deep within his chest when he repeats the movement, and then the head of his cock is catching against her entrance, his hips shifting forward as he starts to sink into her.

Nesta's eyes practically roll back in her head, a hoarse cry pulled from her throat at the stretch. He has to continue to rock his hips, to feed her more of his cock a little at a time. Each time Nesta thinks he's bottomed out, he sinks deeper still. And each time Nesta thinks her body won't be able to handle his cock, it only seems to want more, to crave more.

The press of those ridges against the wall of her cunt is indescribable, the way they drag with each movement of his hips, how deep his cock reaches. By the time he finally bottoms out, it's too much. Her orgasm tears through her suddenly and with enough force that white spots pop behind her eyelids. She clenches down hard around his cock, her whole body seizing with the pleasure of it all.

And yet Rhysand doesn't stop.

As soon as he's bottomed out, he starts to build a brutal pace of hard and fast thrusts, the beast truly unleashed as he fucks into her. The over-stimulation is almost too much, and Nesta's fingers scramble against the rug, desperate to merely hold on.

"I… I can't…"

Rhysand growls in warning, silencing her protests. He never stops, his hips continuing to snap against her own. There's a ringing in Nesta's ears, mixing with the sounds of her own whimpers, of Rhysand's growls, of the wet sound of his cock filling every inch of her over and over and over.

Each forward snap of his hips has that bulbous part of his cock pressing and teasing against her clit. His knot, she realizes. It has her back arching, her toes curling, in anticipation. Too fast she can feel fires climbing higher and higher, and when Rhysand drives his hips forward one last time, his knot burying in her cunt, she screams.

She's never felt more full in her life, his cock buried so deep and his knot pressing against the walls of her cunt. She can feel the warmth as he floods her cunt with his release, feel the way some still escapes around his knot and drips beneath them. It has her cunt clenching and fluttering with the aftershocks of her own orgasm, really milking his knot.

She closes her eyes and all but melts into the rug with a quiet whimper while they wait for his knot to go down. Her entire body feels sore and wrung out in the best way, in a way that she knows she'll feel for days to come.

~ * * * ~

"So," Feyre asks, setting the tray of freshly baked treats down on the low table before taking her seat in the large armchair. "Do you think it worked?"

Cassian hums, picking up one of the pastries and taking a bite. "Oh, I'm sure that it's worked."

He thinks back to those nights spent together when he and Rhys and Az were still youths, thinks back to nights more recently spent with Nesta, and he can't quite bite back the smirk tugging up his lips. Can't help imagining what must be transpiring.

"But we should probably give it a few more hours before we risk going up to the House."

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Pancakes For Brunch - William Afton/Steve Raglan X Female Reader

Title: Pancakes For Brunch

William Afton/Steve Raglan X Female Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

WC: 1,715

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, nicknames, slight mention of William's past, Post Five Night's At Freddy's movie, very brief mention of death, teasing, banter, and overall huge fluff

You awoke as a pair of lips pressed against the back of your neck, soft facial hair tickling your skin, making you smile sleepily. The bed squeaked a bit as William moved behind you, lifting himself slightly to peer over at you, his gaze roaming lazily up your bare shoulder, and neck, before finally settling on your face. Propped up onto his arm, he raised his hand to brush your hair away from your face, eyes trailing along your beautiful features before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the space behind your ear. Your heart fluttered as he did so. 

"Morning," You muttered, slowly turning to lay on your back, staring up at William as he stared right down at you. A gentle hand rested on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into your warm skin, which was just barely covered by your pajama shirt - that may or may not have been one of his button-ups. 

William continued to stare, admiring you in the early morning light that sprinkled between the curtains, eyes taking in every feature of your face. You smiled sweetly at him, running your fingers lightly through his thick, graying locks; nails scratching at his scalp deliciously. He leaned in for another long, lingering kiss, and after a moment, he pulled back; his lips brushing against yours. His body heat washed over you as his breath mixed with yours. He let out a deep sigh as he finally spoke, "Morning, sweetheart." His voice was gravelly, rough with sleep; it sent shivers down your spine. 

Rolling back on his side, William tugged you into him, his arms wrapping around you and bringing your body close to his. You snuggled up under his chin as he laid back against the pillows and tucked his nose in the crook of your neck; inhaling deeply. He breathed in the scent of your shampoo, his fingers idly playing with the ends of your hair as you looped your leg over his waist, laying your head on top of his chest.

The two of you were quiet for a while, listening to the sounds of birdsong outside your window. You shifted slightly, raising your hand to allow your fingers to gently brush across William's bare chest, lightly caressing the scars along his midsection. You still couldn't get over how lucky you were, not only to have William in your life but to have found him alive, withering in pain in that corroding suit. But you didn't want to think or dwell on those thoughts and memories. Instead, you focused on the present, focusing on him, the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

"We're not going to get up for a while, are we?" You muttered, pressing your lips to his shoulder. Your voice was muffled from having your face buried in his chest; you were sure he could hear you, but he did not indicate it, simply pulling you closer into his embrace.

"Probably not," William replied, resting his cheek atop your head as he stroked your arm.

You smiled softly, shutting your eyes briefly, "Good." You sighed out, "I don't wanna get up."

You heard William chuckle, his breath ruffling the baby hairs on your forehead and temple. He tightened his grip on you as you relaxed further, "Well then, I'll keep you here all day if that's what you'd like."

"We will have to get up sooner or later," You reminded him, opening your eyes slightly to meet his gaze, "It's almost noon. And we need groceries."

Letting out a sigh through his nose, William spoke, "What do we need?"

Brushing the tips of your fingers through his short beard, you answered, "Milk, ground meat, bacon, carrots - preferably those baby ones, oh- and eggs..." You paused, thinking of other essentials, "... And maybe cereal." You finished.

"Alright," He murmured quietly, "When do you want to go?"

"Not right now, that's for sure," You let your eyes flutter shut, covering your mouth with your hand as you let out a small yawn. "I wanna cuddle some more. It's Saturday, after all." William chuckled, kissing your temple before burying his nose in your hair again. You smiled into his chest, relaxing into his embrace.

~~~

Soft music played through the radio as you stood at the stove, occasionally flipping some pancakes on a pan, humming along; softly swaying your hips to the beat. It was well past noon once you and William got out of bed, where the both of you had spent the remainder of the morning. You had been going back and forth on what to eat for breakfast before you and William both settled on pancakes, strawberries, and orange juice. Well orange juice for you, William took this time to make his coffee. 

Flipping the finished pancake on the empty plate, you grabbed the batter and poured the remaining thick liquid into the pan, your smile widening as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Pressing your back into William's chest, you poked the cooking pancake with your spatula. You hummed happily as he kissed your shoulder before resting his chin on the top of your head. 

"How many pancakes do you want, honey?" You asked, flipping the pancake over. 

William couldn't get over you. Every time he saw you he felt the same way he did the first time he laid eyes on you - warm, fuzzy inside, and filled with so many feelings, yet completely overwhelmed by them. He couldn't explain it, but he felt drawn to you; there was something about you that drew him to you; call it love, or an obsession, or both. Whatever it was, he could never resist you; every ounce of his being wanted nothing more than to keep you close to him.

"Just one," He replied softly as you turned off the stove and gave William a quick peck on the lips before - reluctantly - moving out of his arms. 

You grabbed the two plates, bringing them to the table as William brought your orange juice and his coffee. Eating quietly together, William slid his knife into the pancake, picking it up a piece on his fork before dipping it in the syrup on the side of his plate. Looking up at you, he grinned lightly, raising his fork out towards you. Looking from him to the piece of pancake, and back, you raised an eyebrow. "Say 'ah,'" He said, his eyes glinting as you bit back a teasing smile.

"I have my own pancakes, Will." You said, gesturing to the pile in front of you. As expected, William just tilted his head slightly, gesturing to the slice of pancake on his fork with a short bob of his raised hand.

"Hmm, but I think mine tastes better." He said simply, making you scoot your plate to the side, allowing you to rest your forearms on the table as you leaned forward slightly.

Gazing over at the man you loved, you grinned right back, "Did I add too much love into it?" You asked playfully, only for William's grin to widen a fraction.

"See for yourself." His tone was laced with charm as he held out his fork, the piece of pancake on it coated in maple syrup. You leaned forward slowly, William lifting the piece of food to your mouth, letting it slip past your lips as you took a bite. His eyes watched as you chewed, your eyes closed - a hum escaping you - before you swallowed, opening your eyes and meeting his. Dropping his fork upon his plate, William reached out with his hand, his thumb brushing the sticky syrup from your bottom lip. You watched with bated breath as he brought his thumb to his lips, sucking off the remnants of the syrup; his eyes remaining on you. You licked your bottom lip unconsciously, tasting the syrup and hints of strawberry, watching as his eyes followed. A small smile curled up on his lips before he dropped his hand, leaning back against the chair. 

This man was killing you.

Letting out a shaky breath, you sat back in your own chair, chewing on your bottom lip for a second, before speaking, "Yeah, I definitely added a lot more love into yours." You couldn't help but crack a tiny grin at the end before a small silence fell between you. Clasping your hands together, you tilted your head to the side before resting your clasped hands under your chin, "I know what you're doing."

"Oh, really?" William mused as he glanced around the dining room, "And what am I doing, sweetheart?"

"You, Will," You sighed out, unable to stop the smile from growing on your face, "Are trying to get out of grocery shopping."

Feigning innocence, he asked, "And why would I do such a thing?"

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you continued to eat, swallowing your food before continuing, "You hate grocery shopping. And you think buttering me up will get you out of it. You're trying to distract me."

"Am I?" William questioned with a smirk, his blue eyes dancing as they met yours; he was greatly amused.

Rolling your eyes again, you pushed away from the table, "Yeah. Yeah, you are. And it’s not going to work this time. I’m craving Fruity Pebbles. Come on, let's finish eating and get going."

Huffing, William stood, picking up his plate. He hated grocery shopping but when it came to spending the day with you, he always went - unless he was able to distract you long enough that you forgot about it all together or just gave up. He just wanted you all to himself, to be perfectly honest. 

~~~

“But Clara, the baby isn’t mine!”

Cuddled up into William’s side, you ate your Fruity Pebbles thoughtfully as you watched one of your favorite shows that was playing on the television. 

“Do you think the baby’s his?” You asked William, sarcastic, obviously, as you watched the vampire’s baby flying around as a bat. 

William tugged you closer into his side, an arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the other was holding your hand in his lap. “Nah…” He grinned, looking down at you briefly with a small, toothy grin. “I doubt it.”

---

Main Masterlist | FNAF Masterlist

[starly-amazing]

"I want to love you the way you need to be loved"

Summary:

Post-canon: Siffrin and Isabeau are finally alone together after the time loops ended. They start to cuddle, and kiss, and explore each other, but when things get more heated, Siffrin must face the fact that their intimacy needs are much different than Isabeau's.

archiveofourown org/works/58958008

Get ready ISAT fans for the first of my 50,000 ISAT fic ideas that are plaguing my mind.

----------------------------------------------

"Hey, Sif, you awake?"

Siffrin feels something gently nudge his shoulder. He grunts and pries his eye open to see a blurred Isabeau standing over him.

"Oh, sorry." He backs away. "Didn't realize you were that tired, I'll let you rest."

"No, it's okay Isa." Siffrin sits up in his bed in the clock tower and quickly wipes the sleep from his eye. Out of habit he wipes at the scarred mess that was once his other eye, too. The sensation makes him wince. "What's up?" he yawns.

"You sure? I can wait, it's fine."

"Tell meeee," Siffrin pouts.

"Sorry." He grabs his shoulder and briefly looks away. "It’s just that the others left for a while and I wanted to—to spend some time with you. Like, just the two of us.” His cheeks darken. “B-but if you want to keep sleeping that’s okay too I know you’ve been through a lot and you probably need to sleep for a year to catch up from—”

“Isa.”

Isabeau jumps. “Y-yeah?”

He smiles. “I’d love that.”

"Really?" He stands up taller. "Yippee!"

Cute.

"But really, if you're too tired we can wait. I don't want to p—"

Siffrin throws his pillow directly into Isabeau's face. He stumbles back with a loud oof.

"Hey!"

"We are hanging out now," they command. "What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, uh. I’m not sure," Isabeau snorts. "The others just left so I didn’t have much time to think about it.”

“Hmm...” Siffrin pinches their lip and wracks their brain.

“It was kinda weird though,” Isabeau continues as he stares out the window. “Odile left a sock on the door handle. I don’t really know what that means, maybe it’s a Ka Bue thing?” He scratches at his stubble. “But! She said they won’t come back until we take it off. So we can do whatever; play some games, talk about something, c-c-cud—I mean you don’t have to talk about anything too heavy if you don’t want to. I know it’s all still pretty raw for you so we can just talk about the stars or wood crafting or something."

Cud...dle?

"Cuddling sounds nice," Siffrin says, softer than a whisper.

"Huh?" Isabeau leans closer.

“I think,” he speaks up just a bit. “I’d like a...a hug.”

Isabeau beams and nods. “Yeah. Yeah! I can do that!”

Siffrin shifts closer to the wall to give Isabeau space to get in.

He climbs in and comes to rest close to Siffrin. Not touching, but closer than he’s ever been while sleeping beside him.

Siffrin feels their heart pounding against their ribs. His cheeks grow warm.

Isabeau doesn’t move.

He just stares and worries his lip with his teeth.

“Isa?”

“Ah—sorry, just a bit overwhelmed about sharing a bed with you.”

Siffrin tilts their head. “We’ve shared beds loads of times.”

“Y-yeah I know, but it feels different now, since, y’know—I confessed my feelings and we’re not going to sleep for the night or anything.”

Siffrin couldn’t hold back a breathy chuckle. He throws the blanket over Isabeau and brushes against his arm as they pull back. Isabeau shudders.

Siffrin pokes him in the ribs.

“H-hey!” he squeaks. “I’m sensitive there!”

“Hurry up and hug me,” Siffrin whines.

“Okay okay fine. If you insiiiiiist.”

They stick their tongues out at each other.

Isabeau reaches out.

He lightly touches Siffrin’s shoulder, then cups his face.

Siffrin shifts forward and allows themself to be wrapped up in Isabeau’s embrace. He pulls them close. They can barely move but manage to wrap their arms around him and squeeze even tighter.

“Wow, Sif, you sure have an iron grip.”

“That’s a bit…ironic since you’re the one with the muscles.”

"Ha! That's a good one."

"Really? I'd say it's pretty...metal-ocre."

"Metal-ocre!? Your puns steel my breath away."

"They do? Well..." Siffrin scrunches their face. "Something something copper I'm all out now."

"Really?" Isabeau tilts his head, then scrunches his face in the same way Siffrin did. "Yeah I've got nothing too."

They both break out into a bout of childish chuckling.

Siffrin sighs and rests his head on Isabeau’s chest.

It feels nice.

Warm.

Safe.

Like home.

Home.

Siffrin realizes now that they’re embracing he can finally try something he’s been wondering about for many many loops.

He shifts himself around and clambers on top of Isabeau.

“Whoawawawawao—” He sputters. “Sif!?”

Siffrin hums and lays down. “You make a nice bed.” He closes his eye. Isabeau's heart is thundering in his chest.

“Haahhsldfla;kdfa;skasf;ffff!!!” Isabeau makes a noise Siffrin didn’t know one was capable of.

Slowly.

He realizes…

The kind of power he wields.

A mischievous smirk grows on his face and he sits up over him. Isabeau’s cheeks grow darker than Siffrin has ever seen. He straddles his hips and pins his arms to the bed.

“Sif?” His voice cracks. He’s wearing a lopsided smile on his face.

“Yes, Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau?”

Isabeau’s mouth falls open and he lets out another inhuman squeal. His brow begins to glisten with sweat.

“Are you okay?”

Isabeau coughs and nods. “Yep! More than okay! I haven’t been this okay in...I don’t know!”

Siffrin leans back and tilts his head. His smile wavers. “That wasn’t sarcasm, was it?”

“No!” Isabeau jolts up. “No! Nonono I truly mean it I’m just...wow this is really happening I don’t know if my heart can take it we’re moving so fast and wow—I mean I’m one hundred percent on board with this!”

Siffrin sticks out his tongue and leans closer.

He looks at the faint glimmer of balm on Isabeau’s lips. He wonders what it tastes like. Is it flavored? Or plain—just for keeping his lips from chapping? For looks? For making Siffrin’s mind race with useless questions?

He leans forward just a bit more.

He looks into Isabeau’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He learned his lesson before. He knows what the answer will be, but he can’t fully push the memory to the wayside.

Isabeau nods furiously. Siffrin almost worries he’s going to hurt himself.

He waits a moment for the fighter to calm himself and leans in.

Their lips almost touch; he can feel Isabeau’s heat radiating out. But he pauses.

Isabeau hums and lifts his arm—still being gripped tightly by Siffrin’s sweaty hands—and slides his fingers into their tangled—and also sweaty—hair.

He pulls them closer. Their noses bump and his lips find their resting place on Isabeau’s.

Siffrin lets out a soft squeak. He pulls back for a moment.

Isabeau looks at him, smiling awkwardly. His gaze is so soft, so welcoming.

Siffrin leans down into another kiss.

He’s not quite sure what to do next. They try to think of what the characters did in the plays they watched. He thinks about Mirabelle’s romance novels.

He sits back up.

“Sif?”

“I don’t know what to do now.”

Isabeau snorts and grins.

“Well we can uh…” His smile fades a bit as a look of mild panic crosses his face. “Uhh…I don’t know either. I didn’t think we’d get this far.”

Siffrin snorts too. He coughs out a chuckle, and then another. Soon, he’s doubled over laughing with Isabeau joining in shortly after. They press their forehead to his chest and let their tears soak into his soft shirt.

They sigh. "Ohhh stars."

"Ohhh stars," Isabeau repeats. He rubs his hand down Siffrin's back.

Siffrin sits up and wipes their face. “You really haven’t done this before?”

“Not really,” Isabeau coughs and looks at the wall with his lip between his teeth, “the furthest I’ve gotten before were always quick hello and goodbye kisses.”

Siffrin chuckles. “Further than I’ve ever gotten.”

“Well,” Isabeau pulls Siffrin close to his face. “Let’s change that.”

“But how though?” He purses his lips.

Isabeau snorts. “O-oh, right. Uhh...” He looks around the room, lost in thought. “Well some people use...tongues.”

“Tongues?”

“Yeah, like, sticking their tongues in each other’s mouths.”

Siffrin grimaces. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Does it? Y-yeah it does. Doesn’t it? It’s nasty, let's not do that.” He tugs at the end of the blanket bunched up under him.

“Well, do you remember what your parents did?”

“What?!”

“You know, like whenever they kissed, what did they do?”

“My parents are the last people I’d like to think about right now Sif!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He was not kidding.

Isabeau rubs his legs together and makes a few soft groaning sounds. The bed creaks under their combined weight.

“Egh, enough thinking let’s just kiss each other all over and see what feels good.” He let out a sharp breath as if he had been struggling to get those words out.

"Sounds like a plan," Siffrin smirks.

They stare at each other.

Siffrin swallows the knot in their throat.

Isabeau tentatively places his hand on Siffrin's cheek.

A switch goes off in their mind and before they know it they're on top of Isabeau, kissing everything they can reach. Isabeau flails for a moment before grabbing him behind the neck and back and pinning them against him. He falls back in bed and they both sprawl out as they ravenously go at each other's faces.

Isabeau’s grip on Siffrin’s neck holds him against his lips and they can barely come up for air. He’s not about to complain though. They shift themself a bit under His strong grip, just enough to lift themself up and wedge their leg between his thighs. That elicits a loud grunt from their partner and he freezes for a moment. Encouraged, they press forward a bit and tease another strangled squeal from him.

Cuuute.

Siffrin tries to push themself up but Isabeau tightens his grip and keeps him pinned. They almost want to complain, but the iron grip he has on their lower back causes it to pop audibly and release some hidden tension.

Isabeau gasps. "You okay?" He leans back to look but Siffrin pulls forward and nips at the corner of his jaw.

"Stars, yeah, I needed that." Siffrin works their arms up his neck and through his hair. They tug at it; each yank pulls a muffled moan from his throat. Siffrin sits up a bit to catch their breath and dives back in.

They wrap his hair in their fingers and hold him against the bed. He plants a kiss on the side of his lips and then another, and another—each a little further down his jaw. Isabeau tries to reciprocate but Siffrin holds him in place with a palm on his chest. They don’t use much force, just enough to keep him still so they can go about their business uninterrupted. Though, they know even if they used all their strength there was no way they could keep the fighter down even for a second.

Oh, wait.

They can now.

If there was one good thing about the loops, it's that now Siffrin has the power to protect all their friends from harm.

...And finally win an arm wrestling match against Isabeau.

...or at least Bonnie.

Siffrin pushes the urge to call for a rematch and continues his journey towards Isabeau’s ear. Their lips come to a stop right at the edge.

They take his chin between two fingers and turn his head to the side.

He's shaking. trembling.

Siffrin kisses his ear and takes the edge gently in their mouth.

Isabeau squeals breathlessly as his grip tightens around Siffrin like a massive ravenous snake.

They bite down just a little bit and very lightly scrape their teeth against his skin.

Isabeau makes another inhuman squeal.

Siffrin's lips curl up in a catlike smirk.

"Isaaaa," they mewl right into his ear.

"MmmMmmhHhmmM?"

Siffrin thinks about all the sounds and expressions he can pry out of him. All with a few words and touches.

It will be so easy.

"I'm glad you're 'ear with me now."

Isabeau groans and curls in on himself, nearly throwing Siffrin off the bed. If he wasn’t already clinging to him he would have ended up on the floor.

Cute. Cute. Cuuute.

“Siffriiiiinnnnnnnn.”

Very cute.

“Yes, Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau?”

Isabeau squeals and covers his face. “Noooo! You can’t do that twice in one day! My poor old heart!”

“If you’re old, then what does that make me?” Siffrin fakes offense. “What does that make Odile!?”

"Ancient and decrepit."

"Wow."

"What are you going to do about it? Are you going to punish me?" He looks at Siffrin coyly with a trembling lip.

Siffrin tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Huh? Do you want me to spank you or something?"

Isabeau's eyes go wide. "...Maybe."

"What."

"What. Never mind, let's just keep making out."

Siffrin blinks a few times and they resume sloppily kissing and nibbling at each other's faces. It's a hit and miss on what works. Siffrin bites down too hard on Isabeau's ear; Isabeau moves too fast and collides with Siffrin's nose. They don't give up though, and eventually they start to find things that work more often than not.

Isabeau grows a bit bolder; bit by bit moving his hands lower and lower on Siffrin's body. They sigh as his fingers dig into another spot on his back that's been bothering him for a while. Isabeau works on that spot for a while and Siffrin, in turn, starts working on his shoulders.

Isabeau's hands may be large but they're so delicate with Siffrin. They almost want to curl up and fall asleep right on top of him and let him work out every little kink in their muscles.

Not yet though. They have so much to learn. So much to explore.

They blink away the exhaustion and dig their fingers in a tight spot at the base of his head. Isabeau lets out a soft sigh, almost a moan. The sound rouses Siffrin and they keep trying to pull more noises like that from him.

Isabeau slides one hand up Siffrin's body and back into his hair. He tugs and they let out a high whine then slap a hand over their mouth. Isabeau looks at them with a shocked, crooked smile. He laughs.

"We really need—" Isabeau pauses to inhale sharply as Siffrin takes his earring in their teeth. "—to fix your hair up—" Siffrin tugs at it a little, "—when we're done."

Siffrin mumbles an agreement. Isabeau tugs at his hair again and they lose their grip on his earring.

He props them up and pulls Siffrin's head back, exposing his neck.

Isabeau presses a kiss under their jaw.

Siffrin grunts and grabs Isabeau's shoulders for stability.

"You like that?" he breathes.

"Mhm." Siffrin tries to nod but is held fast. His eyes roll back in his head as Isabeau takes the reins.

"Aah." They squeeze tighter as Isabeau begins to kiss and suck at their neck. The hand not tangled in their hair starts to travel around; it slides over his chest and down his stomach. He presses his fingers into a fold in their shirt and begins to tug it upward.

The sudden cool air makes them shudder.

They feel the tips of Isabeau's fingers brush against an old scar.

His hands are impossibly warm.

They’re even warmer against his bare skin.

He didn't realize he could get more relaxed.

But then…

Isabeau starts to slide his hands down.

Down to the hem of Siffrin’s pants.

Wait.

Isabeau pulls back to look at them. He tilts his head in a questioning manner. Siffrin puts on a smile for him. He nods with half-lidded eyes.

He makes himself relax again.

Isa’s not like you.

Isabeau makes an adorably excited noise that eases Siffrin’s nerves a bit. But then he slides his hand along their thigh and around their ass.

He’s going to want more.

Isabeau’s ministrations get closer and closer to the space between their legs. He’s being slow, cautious, gentle.

But still...

Are you going to give it to him?

“Hey, Sif? You okay?” Isabeau's voice jerks them out of their thoughts.

No.

“Yeah.”

Isabeau studies their features for a moment. He looks thoroughly unconvinced.

“Am I moving too fast? I’m sorry I was just so excited to finally be with you like this I just kinda got ahead of myself hahahahhh…”

“It’s fine,” Siffrin smiles.

Just tell him.

“Are you sure? Really, I’m okay with slowing down or waiting.”

Don’t string him along.

“Really, I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”

But he’s been waiting so long to do this, it’s the least you can do for him.

“Promise?”

Just let him do this. You’ll get used to it.

“I…”

Do it. Just do it. You'll blinding get used to it. Don't disappoint him. He wants this, you want this. You WANT this.

“Sif?”

They clutch their chest.

“No!” they finally gasp. “I can’t promise because I don’t want this! I never wanted this!”

Isabeau bolts upright. “Wh-what?" He pulls his hands back from them. "Sif what do you mean?” His voice cracks.

Siffrin hisses under his breath. “I mean I do want this! I want you! I want to be with you and hold you and kiss you and love and touch you but not—" They cross their legs and shift away. "I don't want—” They bite down on their lip hard enough to break skin. Tears begin to stream down their face. "It’s too much."

“You mean like...” His voice quiets. "Not actual s-sex?"

Siffrin nods. They clench their jaw and take a shuddering breath. "But it's not you. I promise it's not you. I just—thinking about it always makes me feel gross." They grip their shoulders and shudder. "And anxious and...eugh."

“Wait,” Isabeau says. He narrows his eyes and loses himself in thought for a brief moment. "You mean like how Mirabelle is?”

Siffrin nods, and repeatedly wipes the tears away. "Sort of, yeah."

Isabeau closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh and a winded chuckle.

He breathes in.

And out.

“Oh, thank the Change God.” He covers his eyes with the back of his forearm.

Siffrin looks up. Isabeau peers over and jolts back a bit.

“Oh—er—I was worried you were...well not...lying but like," he chews on his lip, "I dunno—or that maybe I did something wrong in one of your loops or now maybe it was me just moving too fast when you’re still so—" he grinds his teeth. "or maybe something else happened...to make you...”

A disgusting pathetic mess?

Siffrin shakes their head and wipes their face again. “No, nothing happened.” He pauses and squeezes his eye shut. A sharp pain shoots through the scar over their missing eye. They ignore it. “At least, not that I remember…”

Isabeau reaches out to him but stops a few inches from him. After a moment of hesitation, Siffrin takes his hand in both of theirs. He squeezes it gently but makes no other move.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice is gentle, without judgment or expectation, but Siffrin feels obligated nonetheless.

He squeezes Isabeau's hand. Isa puts his free hand on top of theirs.

Siffrin takes a breath. “I think it’s always been like this." He exhales slowly and takes another breath. "I love you, Isa. I love your touch and how gentle you just were and how you held me and kissed me but when I think about actual...sex...with anyone...I just—” They shudder again.

“Oh, Sif.” Isabeau tenderly cups their cheek and wipes the tears from their eye. Siffrin tries to hide their face away  but Isabeau holds him just tight enough to make him pause. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything that makes you feel like that. Okay?”

Siffrin nods and sniffs. “Okay.” He squeezes his eye shut and shakes his head. “I mean—No, no! You want this! You’ve been wanting this! After all I’ve done to you I should at least try this and get used to it!”

“Not if it’s causing you this much pain!”

Siffrin flinched and turned away, breaking Isabeau's grip.

“Sif, I’m sorry,” Isabeau gasps. He places his palm back on Siffrin's hands. “I just don’t want you to punish yourself like this over the way you feel. Over anything."

Siffrin digs their heels into the mattress. "Not punishment. I just need to get used to it."

"Forcing yourself to do this is only going to hurt you." He squeezes Siffrin's hands.

Siffrin shrinks in on themself.

"It's not good for either of us, Sif."

They bite their lip. They can't bring themself to speak—to argue.

"I'm sorry." They hang their head low and rest their forehead against Isabeau's shoulder.

“It kind of hurts, Sif—that you think I’d be so desperate for sex I would put my wants over your needs like this.” Isabeau looks at Siffrin with a tired frown. "And you're willing to use me to hurt yourself, too."

Stupid. Stupid. Now you’ve upset him, you blinding idiot.

"I'm sorry," they murmur.

A feeling of disgust claws at their chest and they pull back again. They grab at their hair and dig their nails into their scalp.

"I'm sorry!"

They pull at their hair and begin to tear a fistful out.

Tears threaten to fall again. He closes his eye and tries to hold them back.

Isabeau reaches out and gently pulls Siffrin’s hands away from their head.

“Sif, no. I didn't mean to snap at you,” Isabeau sighs. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't about me; I know you're struggling." He untangles their fingers. His hands are still so warm. So gentle. “I’m not mad. I just want you to have more faith in me.”

“Sorry,” they mumble. Is that really all they can say anymore?

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” He squeezes their hands. "You know I care about you so so much and I want you to be happy."

Siffrin doesn't reply. He can't.

"It's trueee. And I'll say it as much as I need to. "I care about you Siffrin. I love you. I want you to be happy."

Siffrin presses his forehead against Isabeau's hands. "I want you to be happy, too." Their voice is weak but Isabeau hears it all the same. "I love you and care about you, too."

Isabeau cracks a smile. “Can I hug you?”

Siffrin wipes their eye and nods. Isabeau untangles his hands from Siffrin's and wraps his arms around them.

Warm.

Isabeau runs his fingers through their messy hair.

It’s nice.

Siffrin grimaces as more tears well up in his eye.

Safe.

His chest is heavy, his throat is tight.

They press their face to Isabeau’s chest and break down.

Isabeau holds him close as he cries. He rubs small circles on their back and speaks softly to him. They're wailing too loud to hear what he’s saying but it's comforting all the same.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh!” They yell. His voice is muffled by Isabeau’s shirt. “I keep ruining everything! I said I’d be more honest with you, with all of you and I’m already failing that!”

Isabeau presses his lips to the top of their head. “But you’re trying. That’s what’s important.” He pauses as Siffrin lets out a small whine. “There’s no way any of us would expect you to be perfect at it right off the bat.”

Siffrin whines again.

“It’s true, though.” Isabeau kisses Siffrin’s forehead lightly. "And I promise I'll stay by your side even when you mess up. Because you're more than your mistakes." He presses his face in the crook of Siffrin's neck. "You're so much more," he whispers.

Siffrin is quiet for a long time. Isabeau doesn't push him for a response; he simply keeps stroking their hair.

“I guess...you’re right.”

Isabeau shakes his head. “You know I’m right.”

Siffrin groans then snorts out a single, weak chuckle.

“I want you to say it, Sif. ‘You’re right about that Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau.’”

Siffrin sniffs and lets out another, tired chuckle. “I thought you said you can’t handle that name more than once a day?” He pouts in an exaggerated manner.

“Well I’m prepared now, so hit me!”

“Hit you? Okay.” Siffrin makes a fist and punches forward. He taps it to Isabeau’s chest. "Pow!"

Isabeau grips the impact point and collapses on the bed.

“My ribs!” he coughs. “You broke every rib in my body, Sif!” He goes limp and lets his tongue fall out.

“Eww, you’re going to get the pillow all nasty!” Siffrin grabs Isabeau's cheeks and turns his head up toward them.

"Siiiiffffrinn..." He wheezes. His hand weakly grasps at Siffrin's shirt and pulls them closer. "Say iiittt. My final request to youuuu."

Siffrin rolls their eye. "Shh, don't speak, my love. I—" Their eye widens. Their face grows unbearably hot.

"I want youuu to say that aaagaiiin tooooo," Isabeau cries with his fake wheeze. "Please, Sif before it's too laaaate."

Siffrin covers his face and lets out a long whine. "You're right about that Mr Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau. My love. The light of my life. Mi amor in shining armor. The wonderful man who may—possibly perhaps maybe one day be my h-h-husband."

Isabeau freezes. He stares at Siffrin, slack jawed. "I think my heart just stopped." He cycles through many expressions as his whole face is taken over by a blush. Siffrin can almost feel the heat radiating off it. They swallow a giggle and put on a face of pure despair.

"Noooooooooooo!" Siffrin cradles Isabeau in their arms and pulls him closer. "I was too late!" They take his hand and press it to their forehead. He swoons and curses the heavens.

Isabeau cracks one eye open and snorts, then is quickly taken over by a bout of laughter. Siffrin joins in, and soon the two of them are cackling like schoolchildren. His sides begin to ache but they can't stop.

They don't want to stop.

Finally Isabeau lets out a sigh, a cough, and a few more weak chuckles. They lie back on the bed with Siffrin sprawled on top of him and catch their breaths.

He pats Siffrin on the back. “You’re feeling better right?”

Siffrin nods and smiles while wiping his face. His eyes still feel puffy and his nose itches but at least he stopped crying. He doesn't want to let the high of their little bout of nonsense wear off.

“You’re not just switching to joker mode to distract me?”

They shake their head, still smiling. “Hey, that was a genuine side-splitting laugh.” He pokes his ribs and winces with a small oof.

"Good," he hums. "I'm glad. But, Sif?" He looks directly into their eye. "I'm gonna be serious for a second."

"Hmm?" Siffrin can already feel their heart rate increase but Isabeau quells his fears with a soft touch and reassuring smile.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not now. Not ever.”

Siffrin looks away. "Okay." He pulls at a loose thread in the blanket. "I want to make you happy though."

“You do make me happy! I've been happy all this time knowing you and we've barely even touched before. It's not gonna change now."

Siffrin blushes. Barely was an understatement.

Isabeau kisses Siffrin right below his eye patch. "Look, we can work together to find out what you’re okay with, yeah? It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or next week. I want to know how to love you the way you need to be loved.”

Siffrin blinks away tears, but one escapes and falls onto Isabeau's shirt. He cups Siffrin's cheek and wipes the trail away.

"What about you though?" Siffrin leans into his touch.

Isabeau cups their other cheek and squeezes. “Hey, I have my nice hands I lovingly Crafted myself. I’ve survived this long without, you know, putting my dick—which I also lovingly crafted myself, by the way—in someone else, or, you know, the other way around. Y’kno?”

“I’kno,” Siffrin smirks. His chest feels a bit lighter.

Isabeau covers his face with his hands. “Aagh, you know what I mean. I mean—” He lets out a groan that slowly turns into a laugh. Siffrin can’t help but join in again.

Siffrin lies back down on Isabeau and wraps their small arms around him. Isabeau throws the blanket over them and pulls them close.

They just lie like that for a while.

Just...

Together.

Comfortably.

With no expectations.

With a soft touch and gentle words here and there.

“Don’t let go.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Isabeau takes Siffrin's hands and squeezes them gently and rhythmically.

“Or I might not be able to handle it.”

“I might have to break that promise.”

“Nooooo.”

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Six

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - some lots of smutty content

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Billy likes a bit of dirty talk during sex. It's pretty run of the mill, though there's some minor discomfort for reader during. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~5.1k

A/N : This chapter picks up straight after the end of the last one. It got a little out of hand but this is exactly what I meant when I said this was going to veer recklessly between fluff and smut. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and thanks for all the comments, likes and reblogs on previous chapters!! My posts don't seem to be showing in the tags anymore and I don't know how to fix it.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Six

For the longest time, you were content to stay exactly where you were; your hands on his shoulders while his arms remained around your waist, holding you safely in place while the limo made its way through the New York traffic. His dark eyes stayed fixed on yours, barely blinking, like he was afraid you might disappear if he took his eyes off you even for a moment. 

As the limo took a corner, he pulled you closer, holding you tighter against him, letting you feel the heat of his body against yours. The hands on his shoulder drifted to his neck, your thumbs running across his jaw through his stubble, still holding his gaze. You pressed closer still, feeling the now-familiar press of his erection between your thighs.

His hand trailed up your back to your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn’t long before your hips were moving against his, muted moans muffled by his lips. It went on and on, and you were happy to lose yourself in him, but you both came to realise that you needed more. 

Eventually, Billy broke the kiss, breathless and staring at you like he was barely holding himself together, like he was losing his mind over you. You broke his gaze when you felt his hand on your thigh, slowly trailing upwards. He stopped for a moment, his thumb gently running over a faint scar, but he didn't ask, he didn't make you explain where the mark had come from before carrying on. Your cheeks started to warm and you found yourself glancing over your shoulder at the privacy screen, the only thing separating the two of you from the driver.

“He can’t hear us, you can be as loud as you want,” Billy smirked, looking at you in a way that felt dangerous,  like he was prepared to do anything to you, for you.

You bit your lip as his fingers crept higher, finally reaching the hem of your black lace panties - panties that were, by that point in the evening, embarrassingly soaked. Was the divide really soundproof? Did you really care?

“Then you should probably do something to make me loud,” you challenged with only a hint of nerves, knowing it was too late to try and stop it.

“I thought you’d never ask,” that smirk still on his lips as his fingers finally moved to touch you through the wet fabric.

His touch was slow, teasing at first, fingertips tracing your folds through your panties until a moan spilled from your lips. With that first victory under his belt, his touch became more insistent, finding your clit and starting to trace circles around it. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but you got wetter with every moment that passed, your arousal climbing through the roof.

“Billy,” you moaned, giving him his second little victory.

Your breath caught the moment his fingers slipped into your panties, biting back another moan, trying not to lose another point so soon. Billy’s gaze seemed to darken when he realised what you were trying to do, how you were trying to deny him. He ran his digits through your arousal, spreading it from your slit, coating his fingers in it, before turning his attention back to your clit.

His smirk disappeared, replaced by something more serious, something hungry.

“Oh God, Billy...” you moaned again, this time louder as he teased his fingers over your swollen clit. He kept going, expertly moving his fingers, strumming that bundle of nerves like you were an instrument only he knew how to play. Another moan slipped out and you soon abandoned your game; Billy had won, you couldn’t keep quiet when he was touching you.

You got louder with every sound that left you, letting Billy know that you were defeated. But, still, he wanted more from you. That hungry look on his face was far from satisfied. 

His fingers ventured lower again, the tip of his index finger teasing your wet opening, slipping inside slowly before pulling out again. You keened every time he almost gave you what you wanted, your hips moving, trying to show him what you needed.

“Please -” you didn’t even realise that the word had come from you, but it did something to Billy. His eyes sparked with want and need, but he continued to toy with you, until; “Billy, please…”

Slowly, finally, his finger slid into your trembling pussy right down to the knuckle.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” He asked and your body answered for you, clenching and fluttering around his finger as it started to stroke into you. The fingers in your hair curled tighter and you couldn’t decide if Billy was trying to hold on to you or keep himself anchored. The hunger in him only seemed to grow as you moaned and writhed against his touch, and you weren’t sure which one of you was going to break first.

“Such a needy little pussy,” he muttered and all you could offer him was another moan. A second finger joined the first and you cried out, clumsily rocking your hips against his hand while your inner walls tightened. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna enjoy stretching you with my cock…”

Your cheeks started to burn; you weren’t used to dirty talk, but hearing those words from Billy made you crave more. You bit your lip, too embarrassed to tell him that you were going to enjoy that too. Billy seemed to notice your embarrassment and he soon turned it into his next game. His fingers fucked you faster, bending and scissoring inside you, trying to prepare you for what was coming, searching for -

“Fuck!” You cried out as his fingers hit just the right spot, causing your back to arch and your thighs to tremble.

“Did that feel good?” You didn’t answer, his fingers continued to stroke into your body, but it didn’t feel like enough anymore. “If you don’t tell me, I won’t do it again.”

He wanted you to admit it, wanted you to beg and, as much as you didn’t want to, as much as you told yourself you were better than that, you knew that you weren’t. You’d never wanted anything more than you wanted him. He made you feel desperate, needy, and it should have worried you how much power you'd let him have over you.

“Yes,” you admitted, and he rewarded you by pressing his thumb to your clit.

“Do you want me to make you come with my fingers?” The smirk was back; he knew that you were his, that he was in complete control.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Say it for me, sweetheart.”

“Make me come with - with your fingers, Billy.” As embarrassed as you might have felt, Billy didn’t give you time to feel anything except his fingers, fucking you harder and faster, hitting that spot inside you, over and over. Your hands found his hair, fingers twisting and pulling as his fingers drove you insane.

It took less than a minute before your back was arching and your whole body was shaking. His fingers kept their pace, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could, while his other hand continued to hold you tight.

When his hand finally pulled back, you caught an expectant and somewhat uncomfortable look on his face.

“What?” Had you done something wrong?

“You okay? Last time you... you kinda panicked.” he explained with a gentle smile, reminding you of the party.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promised you the night, Billy.” And, to prove your point, your hands started to slip down his body, over his shirt, finding their way to his pants. You heard his breath catch as you quickly dealt with his belt and the fastenings.

“Are you sure?” You didn’t stop to answer him, too busy slipping your hand into his boxers to free his cock.

“I want you, Billy,” you told him, your eyes dropping between your bodies, finally getting a good look at his cock.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can wait until I get you home.”

You might have laughed at his desperation if your attention wasn’t fixed on his cock; like every other inch of Billy, it was perfect. Long, thick, and impossibly hard in your hand, the tip already glistening. And it was all for you. You started to stroke him slowly while Billy fumbled in his jacket for a condom and, soon enough, he was knocking your hand away so he could sheath himself.

Without warning, he tore your panties and balled the tattered remains into his pocket, leaving you perfectly exposed to him. Billy took hold of himself, teasing the tip of his cock against your slit, while you gripped his shoulders and lifted yourself over him. You expected him to drive into you but, instead, he waited; he was going to let you set the pace, you realised. After a few deep breaths, you slowly started to sink down, letting out a grunt of discomfort as the crown of his cock nudged its way inside of you. Despite his preparation and how wet you were, you ached as he stretched you, so much so that you needed to stop after you’d taken the first couple of inches.

“Fuck, Billy, you’re so big…” You hated yourself the moment it left your lips; the most ridiculous and cliche thing you could have said. Your gaze dropped between your bodies to where you were now impaled on his cock, second guessing whether or not you could continue.

“Don’t stop,” he told you softly, his hand cupping your cheek, forcing you to look at him, “it’ll feel so good in a minute, I promise. Just keep your eyes on me, okay?” 

His words said one thing, but his grip in your hair and the spark in his eyes said another. He was fighting himself; he wanted to take control, wanted to fuck you hard. But he didn’t, he waited for you to move, slowly sinking down onto him, every hard inch filling you in a way that made you feel like you’d never been fucked before. You kept your eyes on his, watching every flash of pleasure as you took more and more of him. And, despite the ache, the feeling was intoxicating. Panting for breath, you buried your face against his shoulder, needing a moment.

“You feel so fucking good,” Billy moaned in your ear, “so tight, so fucking perfect, just like I thought you’d be.” His fingers tugged your hair, urging you to lift your head again. “Fuck me, sweetheart.”

His hand gripped your hips through your gown, urging you to move. The ache started to subside once you did and it wasn’t long before you were enjoying how it felt. Billy used his hands to guide your movements but he didn’t push for more than you wanted to give. But you wanted to please him, make him feel how you felt. You moved faster, clumsily riding him, moaning his name every time you sank down, and it wasn’t long until you felt your climax starting to build. A gasp slipped out as his fingers found your clit again and mercilessly pushed you over the edge.

You cried out as you came, so loud that there was no way the driver couldn’t hear you. Your body shook so fiercely that you barely noticed Billy moving you, laying you back on the seat so he could continue at his own pace. His arm hooked beneath your knee, pulling it up so he could fuck you deeper. Once he was in charge things turned faster, harder, giving you the full Billy Russo Experience (trademark definitely pending). He fucked you like you belonged to him and all you could do was cry out for him, moaning his name, over and over.

He grunted something that sounded a lot like ‘mine’ against your neck, nipping and sucking  the column of your throat in a way that you knew would leave a mark if he carried on. Panicked fingers quickly pulled his hair, not wanting to be branded by him, pulling his lips from your neck and leading them towards your own. Billy was happy to kiss you, to slip his tongue between your lips and dominate you in another way. It didn’t take much to make you come again, and the feeling of your walls convulsing around him was more than enough to finish Billy off.

The twitch of his cock inside you was dulled by the condom, but the groan he let out was more than enough to let you know that he was done.

“Holy shit,” he muttered softly, trying to catch his breath.

Billy didn’t move straight away, leaving you trembling beneath him, his cock still buried inside you as everything started to slow down again, his face hidden against your neck.  Finally, he sat back up, fingers trying to tame the mess you’d made of his hair and rolling his shoulder like he might have pulled something. You stayed where you were for a moment, suddenly feeling so cold and empty without his touch. Taking a deep breath, you awkwardly sat back up, smoothing out your dress and pulling it back down to cover your legs. Billy, similarly, had dumped the condom and sorted out his own clothes.

Your eyes drifted to the window, watching the outside world speed by. In the silence you found yourself thinking about what you’d just done - what you were going to do next. How were you going to go back to how things were after tonight? How would you ever get over this? The quiet between you dragged on for a few minutes before Billy reached for your hand and pulled your attention back to him.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaving some space between you while he tried to figure out what you needed from him.

All you could do was nod, and that seemed to worry him more.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” He squeezed your hand.

“I’m just trying not to overthink this.” You admitted. Billy nodded before slowly moving towards you and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him and holding you tight. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Tonight is whatever you want it to be, okay?” 

That was the problem, you weren’t sure what you wanted the night to be, especially now that you’d had mind blowing sex with him.

“Can you just hold me like this? Just for a little while?” You asked softly, letting your own arm move across his waist.

“Of course,” Billy answered just as softly, tenderly pressing his lips to your brow.

His other hand pulled his phone from his pocket, but you couldn’t see what he was doing. Once he was done, the phone was slipped back into his pocket and his hand moved to gently stroke your hair.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” he offered softly, making you smile.

“I’m a sure thing, Billy,” you laughed softly, “you don’t have to keep flirting with me.”

“I’m just being honest,” turning a little and pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve been losing my fucking mind all night just looking at you.” You stayed quiet, not sure what you were supposed to say to any of that. 

Billy let the silence hang between you for a few minutes, holding you tight.

“I think this is my favourite part of the night so far,” he admitted. “This is why you. You let me have moments like this. When I’m with you I feel like there’s no expectations, no pressure, like you don’t want me to be anything....” 

“I like this too,” you answered, though you didn’t have the heart to remind him that this wasn’t going to last, that, come morning, it would all be over.

You let your eyes close, holding Billy a little tighter, enjoying the moment while it lasted. It wasn’t much longer before the limo was pulling to a stop outside of his building and, when the driver opened the door for you, you were pretty certain he knew exactly what the pair of you had been up to back there, but he didn’t seem to care, especially not after Billy had given him his tip for the evening.

He took your hand, an eagerness in his step as he led you into his apartment building, a grin on his lips that you couldn’t quite decipher - was he really that eager to fuck you again? The building's doorman welcomed Billy home.

“This just arrived for you, Mr Russo,” the doorman approached and you burst out laughing at the sight of the pizza box in his hands.

“Thanks, Marvin.” Trying to hold back his own laughter as he took the box and tipped the doorman.

Billy didn’t waste any more time, pulling you towards the elevator and putting a key into the control panel and hitting the button for the top floor - because, of course, Billy Russo had a penthouse apartment.

“I can’t believe you actually got us pizza,” you laughed, an irrepressible smile pulling at your lips. 

“You’re gonna need all the energy you can get for what I’ve got planned, sweetheart.” He joked and, suddenly, you were very aware of the fact you weren’t wearing panties beneath your dress anymore. (And for a moment you stopped to wonder what you were supposed to do in that situation - were you supposed to ask for the shredded panties back? What was Billy even going to do with them?)

Whatever clever answer you had for him was silenced the moment the elevator doors slid open, revealing his apartment. It was strange, really; while you’d known that Billy was obviously rich, it wasn’t until you saw his apartment that it really hit home. He must have noticed the way your jaw had dropped because he let out a little chuckle as he led you into his home.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go grab us a bottle of wine.” He stopped by a coffee table set in front of a large corner sofa to put the pizza down before disappearing.

Finally, you were able to slip out of Tammy’s Louboutins, your aching feet reminding you why you normally didn’t wear heels. Rather than making yourself comfortable, you found yourself creeping across his apartment, looking around. Surprisingly, it felt - empty. Sure, there was furniture and pretty much every appliance you could think of from a hi-fi to a TV with surround sound, but there was nothing personal, save for a couple of photos on one of the walls.

You recognised Billy in them immediately, then Frank, and a few of Billy’s friends that you’d met; all dressed in their Marine uniforms, all looking a little worse for wear, but smiling regardless. But, other than that, there were no other photos, nothing that made the apartment feel lived in.

Soon enough you were moving towards the windows that ran from floor to ceiling, marvelling at the view of the city.

“It’s a great view,” he almost startled you. You turned back slowly, a creeping sense of shame filling you, like he’d caught you snooping.

“I don’t think I’d ever get bored of this view,” giving it one last glance.

“Me neither.” 

You didn’t dare ask which view Billy was talking about.

He sat down on the sofa, opening the pizza box before pouring two glasses of white wine. You made your way towards him sinking down onto the sofa beside him, eyes fixed on the pizza. Although you’d eaten earlier that evening, you found that you were surprisingly hungry. Billy gave a wave of his hand, telling you to help yourself as he picked up a slice for himself. 

The moment the slice hit your lips you let out an embarrassing moan and, from the corner of your eye, you could see Billy’s grin.

“So, uh,” you choked back a laugh, “this is a nice place. It’s very - big?”

“I bought it the first year Anvil turned a profit,” he explained, reaching for his glass, “I was feeling a bit… indulgent. I always dreamed of a place like this when I was a kid, I thought I’d finally feel like I’d made it once I had a place like this.”

“And did you?” 

“Not really,” he shrugged. “The problem with wanting is that once you fill one hole in your life, you realise that there’s another, bigger hole that can’t be filled with things. And, when you grow up in the system, there’s a lot of things you want.”

“You grew up in foster care?” Billy nodded and you had no follow up.

“Where’d you grow up? You don’t talk like you’re a native New Yorker.” He shifted a little, turning so he could see you a little better. 

You took a bite of pizza, trying to avoid the question for as long as possible.

“Islamorada, it’s, uh, in Florida.”

“You gave up sun, sea and sand for city life?” He asked and you just shrugged. “You still got family down there?”

“No, it’s just me now.”  

Billy seemed to realise that it was a sore subject and you didn’t want to say any more. In a way, it felt wrong sitting there with him, getting to know him when all of this would be over in a few hours. You made small talk for a little while, asking Billy about Anvil, telling him little anecdotes about work and what it was like to live with Tammy, all the while eating pizza and almost getting through the bottle of wine together.

Until you finally felt brave enough to say; “Billy, take me to bed.”

He didn’t say a word as he got to his feet, holding his hand out to you. You took it and soon found yourself being led towards his bedroom, grabbing his free hand when it reached for the lightswitch.

“Leave the lights off?” It came out more like an uncomfortable question, but Billy was happy enough to go along with it, closing the door behind you. With the lights off, the room was bathed in the gentle glow of the New York City lights, enough to see each other but not enough to see every detail and imperfection.

You moved quickly, fingers frantically pulling his shirt open, leaving Billy to shrug it off while your hands trailed down his exposed chest to his belt. His lips crashed against yours as your fingers worked and, soon enough, you were pushing his pants and boxers down his legs.

Before you knew what was happening, he’d turned you, his fingers tugging at the zipper of your gown, letting it drop to the floor next to his clothes and your bra soon followed. Billy pulled you back against him, his lips trailing wet kisses along your shoulders and neck while his hands explored your body. When his fingers found the faint ridge of a scar on your stomach, Billy paused, but before you could panic, the hand started to move again, slipping down and between your thighs. Your legs parted, longing for his touch.

“Still so wet for me,” he groaned, fingers running between your folds, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take good care of you.” 

He didn’t waste any time, sinking two fingers into you and fucking you with them. There was something rougher about the way he touched you, something demanding and desperate, like the last of his patience had finally worn away. It didn’t take long for you to come and Billy didn’t waste any time trying to drag it out; he just wanted to make sure you were ready for his cock. And you were, you were desperate for him.

You felt his cock twitch as you turned in his arms, your breasts pressed against his bare chest as you sank closer and closer, until your lips were ghosting his.

“Fuck me, Billy,” you breathed, giving him permission to take what he so desperately wanted from you.

His hands on your ass pulled you towards him, holding you against him as he stepped back and took a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling you down with him. Your lips found his while he reached for the bedside table for a condom, sucking his tongue as he rolled it on and positioned you against him. The hard tip of his cock grazed the slit between your wet folds before he rolled his hips upwards, pitching every inch of himself into you. He moaned at the feeling of your slick walls straining around him, stretching as you struggled to take him, still so overwhelmed by the size of him. But the ache felt good now, intoxicating even, and you knew it would stick with you for at least a few days once you were done.

You wound yourself around him, fingers pressing into his back, holding on as he started to drive his cock into you, higher and deeper, taking more control than he had in the limo. Fingers curled in your hair, gripping but not pulling, and little by little, you realised that you were finally getting to see a glimpse of the real Billy Russo, the side that he’d been holding back. Some part of you felt like you should be afraid, especially when his dark eyes found yours in the gloom; there was something about the way he wanted you that made your stomach knot, not with fear but anticipation. He wanted you in the darkest of ways, like you were prey and he demanded your submission before devouring you whole.

He fucked you like he was laying claim to your body, like every fibre of his being wanted you, needed you. And you craved it, you craved the feel of his cock inside you and his fingers gripping at your hips and pulling your hair, just as much as you needed his gasped groans telling you how good it felt. As he stretched you, as he filled you so completely, you got wetter, practically dripping all over his cock, your body telling him what your words couldn’t. (More, more, more.)

The heat of your body clamped around him, earning groans and a hundred filthy mutterings from him, telling you everything you already knew; you were desperate for him, you loved his cock inside you, your pussy was made for him and, your personal favourite;

“You’re never going to want anyone but me to have this pussy ever again, sweetheart. No one else is ever going to fill you like I do.”

His tongue slipped into your mouth, saving you the embarrassment of agreeing with him so easily, from screaming yes and offering him something that you knew you couldn’t give. But you couldn’t think about that. If it was only going to be one night, then you hoped that the night would last forever.

You moved with him, hips trying desperately to keep time with his, drawing him deeper and deeper, your soaked walls finally letting him move with ease. As your back arched, his lips tore from yours, his face buried itself between your breasts, tongue running over sweat-slicked skin until his lips closed over an already achingly hard nipple. He sucked your nipple while his fingers curled tighter in your hair, and nipped with his teeth while his cock continued to stroke fast and deep inside you.

Nails clawed against his back, his name falling from your lips, over and over again. You’d never felt such desperation, such eager desire.

“That’s right,” he almost growled as his lips pulled from your nipple, leaving it tender and swollen, “beg for me, beg me to let you come.”

And you did without thought, so ready to give yourself over to him, no longer thinking about anything but him and the feelings he was creating inside of you.

“Please - please, Billy, I need you to -” you panted, so willing to do whatever he wanted, to submit to his every need, his every dark desire, “- please, let me -”

You could see him smirking in the gloom as he tugged your hair, causing you to lean back, letting him change the angle. The tip of his cock found that special spot inside of you and his movements became merciless, filling you with so much pleasure you barely noticed the way he was still pulling your hair. You tightened around him every time he grazed it, moaning wildly, crying his name, until you finally shattered, flooding his cock and convulsing around him. And still he fucked you, pitching his cock up into you in a way that let you knew he wanted you to be able to feel him long after he was done.

By the time his release flooded the condom, your entire body was trembling and boneless, completely and utterly his in a way you didn’t care to think about. He pulled you back toward him, crushing your breasts against his chest and laying claim to your mouth with his tongue. Neither of you tried to pull away or sever your connection; you weren’t ready to lose the feeling of his cock inside you just yet, and Billy seemed equally reluctant to leave the warm embrace of your body.

As the kiss broke your head moved to his shoulder, taking slow and steady breaths as your body slowly came down from its high. After an immeasurable amount of time, he moved, lifting you up and putting you in his bed, climbing in beside you and wrapping his arms around you. 

Minutes passed in silence, his hands trailing up and down your bare skin until it felt like he’d explored every inch of you that he could. Similarly, your fingers ran across his chest, while you tried to commit every perfect detail to memory. It wasn’t long before he was kissing you, urging you onto your back so he could fuck you again. And that was how things went until you finally fell asleep; tender moments followed by desperate fucking, until you were aching and exhausted.

When you woke a few hours later, light was starting to filter into the room, and you knew it was time to leave. Gently, cautiously, you slipped out of his bed, pausing for a moment to look at him; he looked so peaceful and it struck you how you’d never seen him look so relaxed. Without thinking, you reached for him, wanting to run your fingers through his hair one last time, but stopped yourself at the last second.

You needed to get out of there.

You got dressed, found your coat and phone, and left before he could wake up and give you a reason to stay.

CHAPTER SEVEN

END NOTES : So, yeah, I got a little bit carried away with this one. I thought about making it into two chapters but there never really seemed to be a good place to stop it. Because the next chapter is set during Halloween (I know, I'm super late) I'm going to post it a little earlier, probably Wednesday.

Also for some reason my post don't seem to be showing up in the tag and idk how to fix that...

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this hope you have a great day!

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @uncontainedsmiles @damagelove

[inoreuct]

I've been lurking in the Zosan tag and I'm super in love with the snippets you've been posting! For a prompt, I really enjoy them being soft and taking care of each other after fights? Also love outsider POV if that seems fun to you.

wahshdhdhhs THANK YOU 😭 i’m having so much fun writing them and i had fun writing THIS :)) made it short and sweet and mostly from nami’s pov; soft but also they bicker because. when do they not. enjoy!

Nami huffed as she made her way to the galley, peckish after the battle. Sanji was probably there, but loathe as she was to admit it she’d feel a little bad to ask him to make something; that fight had taken a lot out of all of them, and she’d gotten off easy— The last she’d seen him he’d been wrapping his forearms with his shirt and trying to staunch the bleeding from several wicked slashes.

The door was cracked open when she got there. Strange. Sanji was meticulous about keeping it shut to keep Luffy out, but she supposed if he was to be lax at any time, it would be when he was injured. 

That was, until she heard the voices.

“Stop moving, shithead!”

“I’m not moving! The fuck are you—”

She peeked through into the kitchen and almost stopped breathing, hunger forgotten, fatigue banished, grin growing by the second.

“If you don’t stop fucking fidgeting it’s gonna leave a scar,” Zoro warned, tugging Sanji’s hand forward again and rolling his eyes at the cook’s dramatic sigh.

Sanji was perched on the dining table, one arm outstretched as Zoro shoved a needle threaded with fishing line through his skin. He tried to hide his wince at a particularly tender spot, shoulders jumping before they settled at Zoro’s soft sound of apology. Nami took a note at the back of her mind to get Luffy to befriend more doctors.

Still, looking at the arm that Zoro had already finished, the stitches were neater than Zoro would have done on himself; she’d seen the scars that he’d gotten from sewing himself up. They didn’t look like they’d had half this much care put into them.

“You’re lucky they aren’t that deep. The hell’d you go and do this for, shitty cook? You need your hands,” the swordsman mumbled, brows furrowing and actually sounding a little confused, and Nami simultaneously felt sorry for him and like she wanted to clobber the big idiot upside the head. 

“Ah, you know me,” Sanji sighed, slouching to the side dramatically but keeping his arm still. “Always the martyr—” Zoro levelled him with an unimpressed stare, cutting a stitch with a dry snip, and he faltered. “Well, I— I don’t know, marimo.” He shrugged, swallowing. His eyes were staring at something on the table. “I saw you there and just moved.”

Nami gathered her context clues and had to stop herself from pumping her fists. It was finally happening. The two idiots had been dancing around each other for ages; She and Usopp had a running bet on who would get their shit together first, but hell, at this point she didn’t even care who won.

Zoro sighed heavily, short and sharp, pushing Sanji’s skin together to finish off the last stitch. “Just— Don’t do it again.”

“The hell do you mean don’t do it again, you ingrate?!” Sanji squawked, outraged and hissing through his teeth when the fishing line was tightened. “I saved your life!”

“I would’ve been fine!”

“You would’ve been hurt—”

Zoro tossed the scissors and needle aside, brandishing a roll of gauze in Sanji’s face. “And what if you couldn’t cook anymore?!” 

“Well maybe, just maybe—” The cook snatched the gauze, gripping it in his fist with his eyes ablaze, “Really think about this, now— I care more about you than that, you moss-brained oaf.” He took a measured inhale, jaw working as he looked away. Nami was about to do a victory lap around the deck. “Good God, how long is it gonna take to get it through your thick skull…” 

“Curly-brow.” 

Sanji remained resolute, face turned to the side even as Zoro stepped closer.

“Oi, cook.”

He wound the gauze between his fingers, looking down.

“Sanji,” Zoro murmured. “Baby. Come here.”

Nami clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as coins. This was a thing. They were already a thing. Oh, Usopp was absolutely going to lose his shit. 

Sanji swallowed, unable to escape when Zoro had callused hands on his knees and was dipping down to nose at his cheek. “First you want me to stop moving, now you want me to—” He cut off when Zoro kissed him, simple and sweet, thumb rubbing circles over his kneecap. “…Mm. Right, yes, I suppose that’s… a valid reason.”

“Thank you.” Zoro set his jaw, looking up at Sanji earnestly. “I mean it, curls. I know how much cooking means to you. And you said...”

Nami watched as Sanji’s face softened, his hand coming up to cup the side of Zoro’s face. “Of course, mon chou.”

The swordsman chuckled low in his chest. “Did you just call me a cabbage?”

“Wh— No.”

“Yes, you did.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“Our navigator doesn’t just have maps. Found a French dictionary lying around.” 

Shit, she’d been wondering where that had gone. Green-haired bastard.

“Said navigator’s been here since five minutes ago.”

Double shit. 

Sanji whipped around with a scandalised noise as she gave up the act and stood in the doorway properly. “Nami!”

“I didn’t see anything!” she cackled, just barely sheepish, hands up in a gesture of peace as she turned and hightailed it out of there. The smart thing to do would be to blackmail the shit out of Zoro—

But she thought of how gently they’d treated each other, the looks in their eyes, and sighed. She’d let them have this.

(But getting her to admit that they were good for each other or that she was happy for them would be harder than pulling teeth, she’d make sure of that.) *

“Go get me a wet cloth, darling, there’s blood in your hair.”

“You think she’ll snitch?” Zoro asked, running the tap over a clean dishcloth and wringing it out before walking back.

Sanji hummed, non-committal and slightly amused. “Would you mind if she did?” he asked lightly, seemingly unbothered as he wiped at the red drying tacky in Zoro’s hairline from where he’d been whacked over the head.

The swordsman laughed under his breath. He could feel the tension in Sanji from the way he was sitting, spine too straight as he wrapped his arms around the cook’s waist, hipbones pressed into the table’s edge between his thighs. “…Not really, no.”

“Nothing to worry about, then,” Sanji said, cool and composed, but this time he didn’t bother hiding the relief in his smile. “Now.” He pursed his lips, scrubbing the rest of the blood out of Zoro’s eyebrow. “To the showers with you, and then bed.”

Zoro held up the gauze. “Still gotta wrap your stitches.”

Sanji rolled his eyes again, the corners crinkling as he smiled. “Fine. Wrap, shower, bed.”

“Mm,” Zoro hummed, pulling him close and leaning up for one last kiss. “Perfect.” 

fin.

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

This drabble is born from a really angsty brain riot with Bonten's origins, that happened to me after reading this words from @just-sp-in-inginthevoid :

"Bonten is a memorial for Izana, its symbol, its members’ tattoo come from Izana’s earrings and the (天) ten of Bonten 梵天 from Tenjiku 天竺, the (梵) bon of Bonten 梵天 comes from Brahman 梵. (...) There’s no need for Senju to have the same role as Izana in Bonten if she’s not dead."

(I always pictured Senju being death in that timeline, but the reality of the kanjis being literally THAT... ajfshgsjgejgrjg, the pain of this. Wakui, you know how to break us every timeline! 😭)

Bonten was born from pain.

(drabble of the day that Bonten was created)

Warnings: I'm so sorry, this is just angst and hurt/no comfort. I wrote it as an attempt of coping with canon and how painful is Bonten timeline when you actually look closer to it. It's from Koko's POV and everyone is just broke and devastated in their own way. Again, I'm so sorry :(

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

Most people think Bonten is synonymous with fear.

But they are all wrong. Kokonoi knows better.

Bonten is synonymous with pain, it was born in it.

He still remembers the day that Bonten was created, even if it wasn't the official date, any of the executives would pinpoint the exact same moment.

Probably, only Koko could actually offer a coherent narrative of that night. The only outsider of all the chaos unraveling in front of him.

He still has nightmares of what he saw. But is not what happened what haunts him, no. Is the voices, the faces surrounding him.

Wakasa covered in blood, his eyes looking completely empty. His blank stare, like he couldn't believe who this blood belonged to. Benkei's hand on his friend shoulder, tearing up like a baby.

Takeomi curled up in the floor, sobbing next to his sister's body. Saying “it should've been me” over and over, the older man stuck in a loop of guilt and denial.

The former members of Tenjiku looking shocked, not moving a finger for what was supposed to be their gang, their leader. Koko spent enough time with them to know that, even if they were ruthless, seeing the leader of another gang being shot like that... Was too familiar.

Anyone who looked at them could see they never agreed with that. The ghost of Izana Kurokawa still lingered over them.

Kakucho was shaking, his lips trembling. The rain and the blood mixing with red snow in the scarred boy's mind.

The Haitani brothers unconsciously getting closer to each other. Ran pulling his arm around Rindou in a protective way, the younger one allowing it without complains. Both of them staring at Sanzu, terrified with the possibility of being on the pinkette boy place.

Sanzu's screams were the worst of it. The excruciating pain in his voice while he was holding Senju's body. His little sister's body. How he looked at Takeomi, tears rolling down his cheeks, his gaze filled with hate when he spoke to his older brother “I agree, it should've been you.”

Mikey standing there, the void in his eyes while his knuckles kept dripping with South blood. The man's body at his feet.

That gaze, dark and lacking of any emotion. Pure void that swallowed everything around.

(That swallowed them, trapped them like moths that flied too close to the sun)

Bonten was born from pain.

Bonten grew in pain, thrived with it.

And, Kokonoi is sure that whatever destiny awaits for them...

Bonten will die in pain.