#said one the other day. second should be easy enough to guess i think i said i wished id submitted them last time.

[boydykedevo]

looking through the obscure blorbo spreadsheet and im feeling confident about all three of my submissions and who they'll be up against >:)

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small. 

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes. 

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners. 

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?” 

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head. 

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face. 

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days. 

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you. 

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours. 

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue. 

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall. 

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.  

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help. 

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly. 

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more. 

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second. 

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next. 

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head. 

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow. 

he notes your impatience, amused. 

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it. 

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–” 

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now. 

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing. 

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear. 

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full. 

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head. 

“kinda wanted to leave you there ���nd keep usin’ ya like that.” 

[unholybacon355]

Kinktober Day 20 - Giselle x M! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Apparently the meeting was going on like shit, and that had you stressed as fuck. This is the third cigarette you have smoked during this break and has been not more than ten minutes, you have to calm down if you don’t want to smoke the entire cigarette pack by the end of the break. 

“OMG I Need a cigarette so bad.” The words of your coworker Giselle coming to the rooftop terrace interrupted your thoughts.  “They aren’t doing any shit to make this better.” Apparently she was as mad as you with the current situation. “Do you have a lighter? I think I lost mine.”

You just took another big puff of the cigarette, before even trying to answer her. But Giselle wasn't here to wait, she already was so stressed and didn't need another thing to make her day worse, even if it was to wait a few seconds for your asner.

Leaning on toward you she uses the cigarette you have between your lips to light her’s. The view you have during the few seconds that take light the cigarette is wonderful.. Giselle is beautiful, that’s out of discussion, but wasn’t her face what you were looking at. She was wearing the most revealing outfit she could according to the dress code, to make her cleavage look the most juicy and delicious she could. If you didn't know her tits so well you would think her nipples were at the edge of showing.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer, so you don’t have to stare at my tits like a pervert.”

“If you weren’t showing them around I couldn’t stare at them.” You took another puff and blows the smoke through your nose. “And I already have tons of photos of your tits. You send me some of those.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining. I can´t stop fucking you if you want.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?

“Daaaah of course I have one. But he doesn't work here and I need a way to take out the stress. ”Giselle blows smoke from her mouth before continuing talking. “This meeting is driving me crazy. I wish we had more time, this break isn’t even worth it to take lunch.”

“It is what it is. I guess no one is eating till this shit ends.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “At least I can look at your tits. That’s something.”

“Eeew pervert.” Giselle said with fake disgust on her face. “Wanna suck them while I jerk you off? I guess we have enough time. You never last longer.”

“Here? Sure, so anyone can see us.” You throw the cigarette to the trash and attempt to take another from the pack. 

“Coward, we are on floor ten. Come here.” Giselle says, already opening the first button of her blouse and taking out her tits. Her big brown nipples come out to say hello. You give up with the new cigarette and instead unzip your pants to take out just your already semi erected dick.You klean against the wall and let Giselle put her tits on your face while she grabs your shaft. Really need to fuck me after this meeting.”

You can’t answer that because your mouth is already busy sucking Giselle’s right nipple, and your hand is rolling the other to make it hard too. For their part Giselle’s hand is working with precision on your shaft, beating your meat as she were shaking a bottle of ketchup. Clearly you're the one putting the sausage on the hot dog today.

“Are you swallowing?” You say taking her nipple out of your mouth to change to suck the other.

“No way, I’m just jerking you off.” She quickens her pace as if she were warning you to not mess with her. “After work maybe. There is a new love hotel, we should visit it.” 

“Sounds good. “ Now you’re licking her nipples shifting between right and left, while your hands are squeezing her tits. 

Giselle is doing her best to not moan, because your tongue isn’t giving her an easy time. Your mouth and her tits know each other well, and apparently you know how to suck Giselle’s nipples better than her boyfriend. For your part you don’t need to worry about you making noises because you have a pair of juicy tiddies shuting your mouth. 

“Easy boy. I can’t go back with a  mark on my tiddies. “ But instead her hand is working faster on your shaft. Her fingers are gently pressing your meat and pumping you like if she were extracting oil from the ground. And like they know when the oil is about to pop out, Giselle knew you were about to cum. 

She twists her wrist and points your tip far from her, preventing you from staining her clothes with your semen. Instead your load is going to stop to the ground of the rooftop, but Giselle doesn't stop moving her hands. Instead she milks you till the last drop before stopping. 

“Mmmm Ain't swallowing any shit. You need to eat more pineapple.” She says after cleaning with her tongue some drops of your semen she has between her index and thumb. 

“We can have a hawaiian pizza before I eat you out.” You say putting your shaft back on your pants.”

“God. If isn't were because I know you love fucking me I would say your taste is shit.” She answers you rolling her eyes and putting her tits inside her bra once again.  

[revelboo]

A little more thundercracker? (I'll even take a smidge of Skywarp if you'll allow it)

Sure!

Better Open the Door Pt 2

Thundercracker x Reader, Skywarp x Reader

• Somehow movie night is now an ongoing Friday night thing. And as crazy as it is, you even begin to look forward to it. Waiting impatiently for the credits to roll and the last car to pull out of the drive in has you fidgety. Excited even as you grieve your bank account, you set up the telescoping little, cloth screen and hook the new projector up to your laptop. It’s not that Thundercracker has said a word about having to watch movies on your tiny laptop, but you still feel slightly bad about it. The two of you had run through the Mission Impossible movies and you can admit you like his easy, laidback companionship. The questions he asks as you sit beside each other in the dark like he really wants to know the answers. Cares about your opinion. Your neck cranes as you hear the now familiar scream of a jet engine overhead, your smile wavering when there’s a second jet right behind.

• Venting heavily as he lands in a clearing near the drive in, he rounds on Skywarp as soon as he transforms. “You promised to behave,” Thundercracker growls, worry bright in his processor. Worry that he’s making a mistake and his tiny human will suffer for it. The promise being only a vague ‘I won’t break your little secret pet.’ Smirking, the purple and black mech pushes the servo leveled at him away and looks around.

• You hear their heavy steps before you see them and sure enough, there’s another one stepping out of the woods behind Thundercracker. Your skin prickles as that new robot spots you and grins in a decidedly unsettling way. That is exactly how you imagine a shark looks before biting down on a seal. Seeming to sense your unease, Thundercracker bends and scoops you up into his huge hands and you inhale sharply. Because he’s never grabbed you before and as he straightens you realize you might have a newfound issue with heights.

• “I said I wouldn’t break your toy,” Skywarp laughs as he stalks around, expression sly as he studies the little human clinging to Thundercracker’s servos. “Relax.”

• That interest is dangerous, rasping uncomfortably over Thundercracker as he forces his attention down to you. No matter what Skywarp says, if he decides it might amuse him, he might accidentally hurt you. Toy with you without realizing how fragile you are. “You okay?” He asks, feeling your insubstantial weight and how much softer you feel in his servos than he’d guessed you would be. Looking up at him with the trust that he’ll keep you safe. That small smile you give him spreads warmly through him.

• Nodding, you slowly relax. While you don’t trust this new alien at all, for better or worse, you do trust in Thundercracker. And you feel better about your instincts on his buddy when he shoots him a look that’s pure warning before setting you down near your setup. Shivering as you slide out of his hand, you realize exactly how warm he is and how chilly the night is. “I have something new tonight. It’s still action, but it’s also, um, well, it’s a bit different,” you say, floundering on how to explain a romantic comedy to a giant alien robot. Knight and Day still has enough action you think he might like it, but the romance bits? Maybe you should have chosen Mr. And Mrs. Smith instead.

• Your two huge guests settle themselves and you start the movie, retrieving a blanket to wrap yourself in as you sit on the ground near Thundercracker’s leg. As far from his buddy as you can get and the stranger just smirks like he knows you’re afraid of him and finds it particularly hilarious. A servo touches your shoulder, as the movie starts. “You’re shaking.” Thundercracker murmurs and you offer him a smile. Because he does keep an eye on you. Worries over you. Before you can explain it’s just a bit cold outside, he’s carefully picking you up again and you stiffen as he cradles you in a hand against his chassis. And he’s gloriously warm. Exhaling, you lean into him, giving in.

• It is a different kind of movie and it snares him, the interactions between the main characters fascinating. In his hand, you curl more firmly into him as the story continues. As engrossed in it as he is, he’s still very aware of you against him. Of your little head resting against his canopy and the change in your breathing. Trusting him so completely, you can let your guard down and rest knowing he’s there. That he has you and it’s such a precious thing. On the screen, the humans slowly evolve from at odds to lovers. Slowly. Softly.

Previous Next

[literaila]

emotions

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and megumi discuss how terrible satoru is

warnings: little spat between gojo and megumi, reader is the only sane one, lil fluff, and pining ofc

last part | next part

*

year three.

you're used to the door slamming open every day when they get home--and you've given up on scolding all of your family members about it--but what you're not used to is megumi storming through the door, his aura a dark and stormy color as he walks by you, not even bothering to look your way, and slamming the door to his room. all within a good three seconds. 

and, okay. you blink, trying to comprehend him, or what just happened. 

satoru comes in next, slower, more peaceful, shutting the front door softly like it'll make up for megumi's actions. for whatever he probably did. 

you immediately turn towards him, frowning. "what'd you do?" 

"why did i have to do something?" satoru asks, scoffing. "the kid is a glorified teenager. or an old man. he's moody." 

"yeah, but he didn't even say hi to me," you cross your arms, trying to analyze his body language and the twitch of his lips. 

satoru waves a hand at you. "join the club." 

"seriously. is he okay?" 

satoru kicks at the floor, mumbling something indecipherable under his breath. 

"satoru." 

he looks up, almost pouting. 

"what happened?" 

"i was just teasing him--" he's already pleading for mercy, taking a step towards you with his arms out. "i didn't even say anything bad. i just said something about his attitude, and he told me to leave him alone, and i... i didn't do anything!" he swears. 

and you both know that he's lying. you sigh, shaking your head at him. 

"did you listen when he told you to stop?" 

"no," satoru says, with a fake smile. 

"then you did something," you take a step away from him, watching as he slides off his jacket, then his glasses. "what were you teasing him about?" 

"he was telling me about some kids at school. i guess they're scared of him, or something." 

you raise a brow. 

his hand gestures to megumi's room, helplessly. "you know him and i like to mess with each other, i didn't think that he would... get upset." 

you almost laugh, because he looks so guilty, unknowing, and childish. and you can tell--by a mere glance--that satoru feels bad, and doesn't want to admit that. 

you snort, still shaking your head. this man is the sole cause of all of your problems. "okay, well you should apologize to him, and listen when he asks you to do something--" 

"no." 

"excuse me?" 

"will you talk to him instead?" he pleads, tilting his head at you. "you're so much better with him, and he'll listen to you." 

"satoru," you frown. "i didn't do anything. megumi doesn't need an apology from me." 

"but he's just going to yell at me," he whines, body flailing pathetically as he emphasizes this point. "and he's scary when he yells." 

"he's nine." 

satoru shakes his head. 

you flick his forehead. "honestly, all you have to do is say that you were wrong. easy." 

"i don't wanna say that," he mumbles, feebly, crossing his arms like a toddler.

you groan. "satoru--" 

"i have to go pick up tsumiki anyway. please? just talk to him? do you really want him to sit in his room all alone and be all gloomy?" 

satoru's lip twitches because he knows that he's got you there. just the idea of megumi brooding alone is enough to break you. 

you scowl at him, crossing your arms with a knowing glance. "i'm going to let megumi punch you, and then i'm going to do it myself." 

"we're not supposed to encourage violence." 

you roll your eyes. "go get tsumiki. do not be late again. i'll see how he's feeling, but we're going to talk trash about you, just so you know." 

"see? this is why i love you." satoru grins, then pecks your cheek. "okay, got to go! good luck," he says and swings himself out the door. 

and honestly, how did you get stuck with him? 

*

you give him a couple of minutes before you knock on the door, assuming that any space he has to cool off is probably good. but you can only wait so long. 

there's a worry somewhere in your chest, the fear that you won't know how to mend the rift between the two boys. but the other part of you feels easy, simple. 

kind of how you assume satoru feels about most things. 

if you can't fix it, you think, he probably can. 

"hey," you whisper, peeking into his room. the lights are off. "can i come in?" 

megumi shrugs. he's sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, looking like a forlorn statue. 

so you go in anyway, stepping over the backpack he threw on the floor and the books cascading out of it to sit next to him on his bed. 

it's actually a little hard not to laugh because even though he's grumpy, megumi is so cute. his little scrunched-up eyebrows and his pout make you want to squeeze him forever. you want to coo over him, or say something inappropriate, but you refrain. because you are not satoru, and you will never be. 

"how was school?" you ask, after you've settled in on his dinosaur sheets, watching him pick at something on his pants. 

he shrugs again. 

"wow. glowing remarks." 

megumi doesn't even smirk a little. 

you tilt your head, trying to meet his eyes. "do you want to talk?" you ask softly, trying so hard not to prod. even though you will.  

"no." 

you smile, a little. "too bad," you tell him, rolling your eyes for show, "you didn't say hello or give me my hug when you came in. talking is your punishment." 

"sorry," he mumbles. 

"i'll let it slide this time--only this time--okay, kid?" you give him a hard look and he nods immediately. you smile at him again, leaning up. "what happened with satoru?"

"nothing." 

"unforunately for you, he's a gossip so..." 

he rolls his eyes. "he was just being annoying."

"naturally. did he make you mad?" 

megumi nods. 

"did you tell him that?" 

he shakes his head. 

"okay. what'd you say when he started annoying you?" 

"to stop." 

"and then he didn't, so..." you hint, nudging him.

"i told him to leave me alone." 

"what'd he say to that?" 

megumi sighs. "he just said that i'm adorable when i'm mad." 

because of course he would. satoru is probably the worst person in the world. the sole cultivator of everything terrible. 

and, for some reason, you're kinda obsessed with him. 

"yeah," you shake your head, grumbling internally. "i'd expect nothing less from him. i'm sorry he didn't listen, though." 

megumi finally looks at you. "you are?" 

you raise your brows. "well, yeah. if you want to be left alone, then he should leave you alone." 

megumi looks at you skeptically. "you're not going to tell me that i shouldn't have gotten mad at him?" 

"um," you frown. "no. you're entitled to your emotions, megs. you can feel whatever you want." 

he frowns, too, but doesn't say anything. he's stuck somewhere you'll probably never reach. 

but you try to meet his eyes anyway. "and satoru'll be getting a lecture from me, don't worry," megumi smiles a little at that, looking a little more like the boy you're used to. "but i just wanted to tell you that you can talk about it with me, if you want. nobody understands being angry with satoru like i do." 

he looks away again. his fists clench, briefly, and he makes a sound at the back of his throat. "i just--why doesn't he leave me alone? he always teases me, even when i'm trying to be serious, or when i tell him to stop." 

you nod in agreement, letting the words sit for a moment. and then you say, "i think that satoru thinks if he never takes anything seriously, then the negative emotions and all of the things he doesn't want to think about won't matter to him. or as much."

"but they do matter." 

"they do. and if he's irritating you, you should tell him that." 

"i try." 

your lip twitches. "satoru's not the easiest person to talk to. but he's a lot like you, you know? in that way." 

megumi frowns. "how?" 

"you don't really like to talk about these things do you?" you ask, seriously. 

megumi thinks for a moment, fingers messing with the bedsheets, and then shakes his head, slowly, like he doesn't want to admit it. 

"satoru doesn't like it either. and he feels things the same way you do--very deeply, and seriously. that's why he always messes around. and why he frustrates you." you stop, thinking about how to explain this to a kid. how to explain it to yourself. "well, you know how when there's only one melon soda left and you give it to tsumiki, or when you let her pick the movie?" 

megumi nods. 

"that's your way of putting her first. because you love her. but it's different then the way that she loves you, right?"

"yeah. she says it, a lot," he rolls his eyes, familiar with the antics of tsumiki.

you smile. "and she gives those hugs where she tries to crack your ribs," you emphasize it by squeezing his shoulder, making him laugh. 

you swallow, shrugging. "you both show your love differently. everyone does. but tsumiki isn't afraid to let anyone know that she loves them, and satoru is, i think. and you're like that." 

he looks down at his lap, contemplating this. satoru might think that you understand megumi better than he does, that the two of you are easy, but you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. 

everything is so clear in your head. but you can't clarify the interworkings of someone as complicated as satoru for megumi. you can barely clarify him for yourself. 

"i don't know if that's the right way to put it..." you sigh. "well, i like to talk things out. like right now. i want to talk about how i feel, and why. that's how i process everything. but satoru doesn't do that. usually, he'll refuse to." you nudge megumi. "and that's okay, sometimes. but i think he's taught you to do the same, on accident." 

"that's not bad, though," he mutters, frowning. 

"no, not all of the time. but it also means that his emotions come out in his actions. like teasing you, or when he tries to get all of us to sleep in his room." 

megumi rolls his eyes again and you laugh. 

"there's no bad way to show the people that you love that you love them, but when you don't talk about things, or you try not to show those emotions, they get stuck." you poke his chest. "and then they break out, like today, and it's too many feelings all at once." 

megumi nods. 

"so when he's annoying you, you have to tell him. or if you need a break from him, or me, or tsumiki, you should say that." 

it's advice for all of you. some secret that you don't want megumi to know about--the part of you that's lying to him. the unspoken things you don't say--emotions buried so deep beneath your surface that they'll never see the sun. 

you can see the thoughts as they pass over his face, still dark, still stormy, but lighter now. 

eventually, he nods, meeting your eyes. "okay."

you give him a half smirk, leaning down just a little. "but you can't be mean about it, alright? i know today was hard, and satoru was pushing you, but it's still not okay to snap at him." 

megumi curls in a little. "i'm sorry." 

"i'm not mad, buddy," you assure him, ruffling his hair. "and neither is satoru. we're just here to help you, you know? but you have to let us in so we can. you can depend on us, i promise. and you have to be nice, because i can't deal with another satoru." 

he laughs, just a little. you rest your head on his. "i'm here if you want to talk about it," you tell him, "today, or anything else that's bothering you." 

"i know." 

and you feel like he does, just a little bit. he's a very smart kid, and you know that when you leave he'll think about it some more--put it into words that work for him. 

honestly, most of the time his intelligence frightens you--like you'll never be able to slow him down, or make sure that you're on the same page. but at least there's some use for it. 

you sit up. "good. now i'm going to leave you alone, but when satoru gets home and he apologizes, try not to yell at him?" you plead, only partly joking. "he's sensitive." 

megumi scowls, but nods anyway. 

you stand up, nudging his leg with your foot and then you step back over the maze of his things, turning the doorknob. 

"y/n?" 

you turn back, brows raised. "yeah, bud?" 

"do you want to... play cards, or something?" 

and finally, you laugh. just a little. 

*

"how'd it go?" 

"megumi said that he didn't like my haircut, and that i needed to review my wardrobe situation." 

"and?" 

"he's okay." 

you sigh out in relief. "good," you say, looking back down at the paperwork you're supposed to be filling out. the teaching courses, and jujutsu regulations, course handbooks, and bills... 

satoru sits down next to you, looking over all of the papers with a frown. "this is disgusting," he says, nudging your hand away from the pen you're lingering on. 

"true."

"take a break," he hooks his leg around yours. "let's talk." 

you sigh again. "we really need to get this stuff done, satoru." 

he shrugs. "we'll do it tomorrow." 

"you said that yesterday, too." 

"and i was right..." 

but you relent, and you turn so that you're sitting facing him on the couch, your legs crossed in front of you. 

"hey," he whispers, softly, grinning. 

"hi." 

"how was your day?" 

"boring. all i did was clean the house and wait for you and the kids to get home." 

he leans in, eyes crinkled. "can you imagine what your life would be like without me?" 

"not even a little bit. you take up all of my time."

satoru smiles, adoringly. he leans his forehead against yours. 

you want to push him away, or roll your eyes, or ask him more about his talk with megumi, or if he checked on tsumiki, but you don't. 

you just let a small, tired smile rest upon your lips and close your eyes. 

satoru is close enough to smell. his warmth is almost mechanical, unmoving. and everything about him feels sort of unbelievable. he's so close. close enough to touch and taste, if you were that daring. 

but you're not. 

"you okay?" you whisper to him, feeling his breath against your cupid's bow. you refrain a shiver. 

"i'm good," he says, voice soft and low. "you okay?" 

"i'm good." 

satoru nods against you. there's a whole minute where the two of you sit just like that, no need for words or movements. 

it's nice like this, you think. with him and nothing else. you don't get a break very often nowadays--and you don't mind it, really--but sitting with him is enough to not care. who needs a break when you've got your best friend, curled against you like a vice you'll never ever touch?

and then satoru asks, "do you think i mess with megumi too much?" 

"yes," you say, immediately, opening your eyes to meet his glorious blue ones. satoru is pouting, so you continue. "but he loves you anyway." 

just like i do, you think, so brief there's no time to push it away in your mind. 

"yeah?" 

"god knows why," you say, rolling your eyes, laughing when he bends down to tickle your neck with his nose, sniffing against you like a dog. 

but you do know why. and the paperwork can wait until tomorrow. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[spideyhexx]

oct. 7th - scaredy cat

William H. Bonney x BountyHunter!Female!Reader

mdni! wc; 3.3k cw; gunplay, threats of death, dom-ish reader, dub-con-ish, thighriding, grinding, mentions of piss

kinktober 2024 masterlist

a/n; was worried about this one because i was having trouble writing it, but i think i like how it turned out soooo!!!! hope you all enjoy!!!!

The smoothness of the cards touch at your skin as you move your thumb across, eyes bouncing from the cards, then back up to the man in front of you. 

The bar is rustling with life, but the noises drown out the longer you focus on the man’s blue eyes. They sear into you, subtly trying to beg for an inch, to find what it is you’re thinking or take an educated guess at what cards you hold behind your hands. 

His lips are in neutral territory. No faint smile, but no tension, though his thumb taps to his cards every other second. You count it. One. No tap. Two. Tap. One. No tap. Two. Tap. 

There are two other men in the game, a gentleman to your left that’s clearly off his rocker, and a gentleman to your right, who has the worst poker face known to life itself. Your focus is on the blue-eyed man though. Actual competition. 

The drunken man folds his cards, giving up more because he cannot even think straight. He barely walks straight to the bar just ahead. The man across from you tilts his head, his slightly messy hair catching your attention for only the moment he’s looking away at the drunk man. The cocky one places another bet. You raise your bet. And the blue-eyed man taps his thumb twice in a row this time, before raising his bet. 

The cocky guy scoffs a bit, but your expression remains unmoving. In fact, you lean back in the rickety wooden chair, like this is just some easy day for you. The guy folds his cards and you resist the urge to smirk, your eyes gluing themselves back to the young man in front of you. 

You make your bet, then lean back against, the only movement you give him is a slight cock of your head. The man tries to school his expression, but you see the slight quirk in the corner of his mouth as he looks at his cards, thinking. Or pretending to think. Most likely the latter. Either way, you study him more than you were before.

His dark blue shirt is dirtied, no doubt. Probably hasn’t been washed in days. Weeks, maybe. His knuckles are redder than they should be, but there is no bruising. You can deduce he was hitting something though. Or someone. There is a cut on his lip though. A cut in the process of healing. His hair, messy like you noticed before, seems more windswept or hat hair, than anything else. The slight curls near his ears curl around the curve of it, and his eyes, well, they return to boring into your soul. 

He hasn’t said much of anything since he sat down. A small hello to the other players. A lingering glance at you. He called you ma’am. It’s not that women didn’t play poker, but it was certainly rarer, especially out here in a middle of nowhere town with maybe three entire buildings and the rest expansive farmland. 

The man thinks for a few more moments and you have played enough poker to know he’s purposely building up the tension, wondering if you’ll push through any cracks to give him an inkling on your hand. He’s baiting you, but you know better. 

He shows his cards and leans on his arms on the table, a silent challenge, because he would be winning right now with that hand. 

If only you didn’t have a straight flush. 

The man gives a huff, but a small smile graces his lips. They’re so red, and you catch yourself watching the way his tongue quickly runs over them as he stands from his chair. He grabs his hat, black in color, and sits it perfectly atop his head, pushing it down a moment, before sticking his hand out. 

“Well done,” he says, his voice smooth with the slightest hint of a twang. You shake his hand once, then move to gather your winnings into the small satchel at your side. 

“You’re good. It was a good game,” he speaks again, adjusting his hat, though you know he has no need to do so. A nervous twitch, maybe, but you’ve already gathered he’s a fidgety guy. 

“I know,” you respond, offering half of a grin. His hands drop to his gun belt, shifting one of his legs like he wants your attention to drop to that area. 

His fingers drum on his belt, a grin still stuck to his face, but he just nods, and shrugs on a maroon jacket, then saunters out to the bar exit, while you turn towards the bar itself. 

Once you hear his boots leave the establishment, you count to thirty in your head. You’re lenient. Your hand snakes down to the gun in your holster, your thumb tracing the handle. It soothes it. Prepares it for the potential action afoot, something you always had to do before a job. 

When your mental count hits thirty, you stand, and walk out of the bar. The setting sun still shines bright and hits your vision at first. You shield your eyes, clocking the man’s horse still tied up here. 

You walk past the few buildings in this settlement, then veer off toward the woods. The grass of the field swishes against you as you stride slow, careful of your steps as you look around. 

As you approach the small thicket of trees, you catch that maroon color. 

His back is to you, standing near a tree, so you slowly stalk over, pulling your gun from your holster with ease. 

You make no noise, approaching your prey with a staunch air. Your heart is beating. A rapt hitting against your chest, but it’s not nerves, it’s excitement. As you get closer, you realize he’s urinating against the tree, but it does little to hinder you. It only excites you more. 

He whistles softly to himself, a tune you cannot place, and it almost distracts you from the task at hand. You roll your shoulders back to snap yourself out of it, then close the distance, quickly coming up on him from behind. 

The man startles and makes a quick move to grab his gun, but the barrel of yours digs into the side of his neck before he can reach it. You press your chest close up on his back, your other hand reaching around the front of him to undo his gun belt. 

His head turns slightly and you watch him recognize who it is. 

Your hand almost grazes his exposed dick, and a droplet of piss leaves him. You snicker, letting the gun belt detach and you toss it to the side,“Continue.”

“What?” He asks, voice more gruff than it was back in the bar. 

“Finish pissing, Mr. Bonney.” 

Billy hesitates, but you nudge the barrel harder against the skin of his neck and he relents, continuing to relieve himself against the tree. 

It’s quiet besides the sound of his stream, until he asks, “Who do you work for?” 

You scoffs. “No one.” He finishes, and goes to tuck himself back in. You watch the movement with a deep intensity, feeling lucky he isn’t looking at your face. 

“People are after you all over this state and the next. And you made your face known in a busy bar?” 

You’re ridiculing him. The tone of your voice shows it, and you get him to turn around, pushing hard at his chest so he’s up against the tree. There’s no question that Billy the Kid, is stronger than you, but he makes no move to fight you. Not yet, at least. 

“Guess I had some faith,” he says, keeping his hands held up. You drag the barrel from his neck to the front of his chest. 

“How long were you followin’ me? No way you just happened to be there…playin’ poker with me,” he questions, eyes narrowing. He’s trying to study you, but you won’t let him do that. 

“You’re gonna come with me.” You step up closer to him, almost chest to chest if it wouldn’t be for your gun against him. His one leg, having been slightly jutted out, makes it perfect to step up closer to him, his knee brushing to your leg, his head tilted to see you. 

Billy’s jaw clenches when you don’t directly answer his question, “Or you’re gonna kill me? Is that it, ma’am?” 

“Do you not believe I would?” You laugh in his face. 

“No offense, ma’am, but you don’t look all that…threatening,” he says and you break your little composure to furrow your brow. Is he trying to anger you? Trying to see how far you’d go? Well if he is, you’ll sure show him. 

“Ah, I see.” With a nod, you quickly push your hands down on his shoulders. The shove is hard enough to send him to his knees on the ground and you cock your gun, putting it right at his head, “Your poster says dead or alive, didya know that?”

“Yeah I do,” Billy clears his throat, his gaze up at you. He still makes no move to do anything. He doesn’t dive for his gun that’s a couple feet away. He doesn’t try to steal your gun. He doesn’t try to shove or push you away. He’s toying and it’s killing you. 

“Darlin’, listen, maybe we could work out-”

He’s cut off by a shot ringing out. You shot right next to him, so close to him, the bullet whizzed past his ear before landing somewhere behind him. The amount of unadulterated power you feel when you see his expression morph into something of genuine fear makes your stomach heat up more than it should. 

“Mr. Bonney, while I appreciate a negotiation, the price for your head is worth more than anything you could possibly give me.” As you cock your gun again, the movement casual, almost nonchalant as though you don’t have the ability to end his life in the manner of a second. 

Billy’s eyes never leave your figure. He looks up at you with a glint of what you can classify as fear, but also interest. You try to ignore that second part. His eyes are widened and wet, but you’re not sure if that’s incoming tears or just how his eyes are. 

“Your nose is bigger than the poster’s detail,” you blurt out. Why? Why the fuck would you say that? At least you didn’t say he looked more handsome than his picture. More rugged. He’s got a boyish charm that you could easily get hooked to if it wasn’t your job to wrangle in outlaws just like him. 

He doesn’t tease, no, Billy still looks frightened. Is that an act? You almost wanna ask him. 

“You have been followin’ me,” he says, more of a statement this time than a question. You give a nod to confirm it for him, because it doesn’t matter. And you’re wasting time, gun to his head and standing here while he’s on his knees. 

“Now, I’m gonna tie you up a bit so you can’t-”

“I’ll give you somethin’. If you let me go,” he interrupts, his eyes still fucking shining like they hold every single truth of the world. He says it with so much conviction, you almost want to indulge him. 

“Yeah? More than the money on your head?” You knock your gun against his head and he winces despite there being no pain from a few small bumps of your gun. 

Billy goes to speak, but in an instant, he decides to grab at your hips, and he tugs you down with him as he sits. On instinct, you squeeze the trigger, but your hand was already dislodged from it’s position, so the shot rings out beside him instead of at his head. It makes his breath quicken, as yours hitches, your body sat against him, his hold tight on your hips. 

His strong thigh is nestled right between your legs and you glare at him, cocking your gun again and holding it to his head, “What the fuck do you think-”

“You’re a very good poker player,” he says, his voice closer to a whisper than the volume he was speaking before. 

Your head cocks, a confused look dawning your face, “I know that.” 

“Are you alone? Do this all…alone?” Billy swallows hard, shifting his thigh ever so slightly and you instinctively shift too. The fabric of your trousers and his separates the two of you enough, but his words ring true, reminding you of the vacancy of touch in your life. Suddenly you hate him even more. 

“That’s none of your business. But I guess there might be a use for you while I drag you back to Lincoln,” you whisper sharply, getting closer to his face than you might have intended to. 

His breath is shaky, “What’s that darlin’?” Billy looks at your lips. You count it. It was three seconds. Three seconds too long and three seconds too short. 

“You can’t charm me.” You don’t believe your words. In fact, you wonder if his stupid eyes are entranced with a curse solely set out to destroy you. They’re urging you to do something. 

To kiss him. To rub on him. To kill him. 

Billy doesn’t speak another word, but he tilts his head ever so slightly against your gun, the tip of his nose brushing to yours. The floodgates open and you surge forward, your usually careful precision breaking as your lips crash to his. The gun stays to his temple like it’s meant to be there. 

Billy kisses you back in a slower manner, like he wants to take his time with it, but fuck that. You push into him, wanting to own his mouth, feel his tongue slip against yours, suck his bottom lip till it’s even redder than his natural color. 

When he lets out the smallest of moans into the kiss, you start the drag of your hips against his meaty thigh, a rampant, erratic motion that has your finger slipping from the trigger. It snaps you out of it for a moment, but you pull back from the kiss, your breath panting as you grind on him. Billy’s hands never stray from your hips, they hold there, and help a very minimal amount. 

His mouth, now parted, his eyes, as deathly as ever. 

Billy goes to say something and you shake your head, “Shut the fuck up,” and without a though, you drag the gun to his cheek, pressing it into him, watching his eyes flutter in fear and arousal. 

If you chanced a look down to his lap, you would see the bulge growing in his trousers, but you can’t look away from his face. 

Your hips never stutter. They’re on a mission, despite the fact you would get more friction if they were off, this is enough. Enough to feel that heat building up inside of you and enough to make you feel something you haven’t felt in so long. 

Billy mumbles, “Oh fuck,” as you shift, so that every time you grind up closer to his body, you’re grazing near his bulge. It’s much less friction for him. He barely gets any, but that small amount makes his eyes glaze. 

Is he under your curse now? Is that what this is?

Your finger almost slips the trigger again and it makes you grunt out in frustration. Your movements are so harsh, you’re surprised you haven’t accidentally shot the gun. Billy’s eyes flicker to the death trap in your hand, and he goes to speak again. 

You pull the barrel from his cheek down to his mouth, the opening grazing his pretty lips. His mouth stays parted, his eyes telling you he too, doesn’t know why he’s got his mouth open. You count to three in your head and his mouth is still open. Your restraint is gone, the grinding of your clothed cunt on his lap prickles at your skin, and you don’t need to think anymore. 

You shove the tip of the gun into his mouth and he fully closes his eyes this time. 

“Good fuckin’ boy,” you grunt, a moan leaving your lips as you sit up more on him, rubbing on him quicker. Your life depended on it. You push the gun deeper into his mouth and grab at his jaw with your other hand, coaxing him to open his mouth a little wider. 

“Y’know, I could kill you right now,” you breathe out, sneering right in his face as a whimper leaves you. You push down a little harder against his thigh, chasing that feeling that’s approaching. 

“I could kill you so fuckin’ easily. The one who killed Billy the Kid…that could be me right now…all cause you…you took her fuckin’ gun in your mouth.”

How could he be so pretty with it? His eyes tear as you push the gun into his mouth enough to make him gag, but all it does is spur your movements on. You grant him som decency to take some of the gun out of his mouth so he won’t choke on it, but you don’t take it out fully, the sight of him with it is doing too much. Why do you love this? You can’t question yourself right now, but you know it’s fucking sick. He looks lewd, swallowing against the barrel, eyes fluttering and chest heaving as you rock yourself on him to completion. 

When it happens, you moan louder, arching against his body, rubbing yourself on him in quick motions so you can feel every part of that orgasm you so deeply needed. 

Then, you squeeze the trigger. 

Click. 

You have to laugh. A breathless laugh. His eyes are wider. Some of the arousal a bit loss, but still lingering there, and you glance down at his lap, a small wet spot forming on the crotch of his trousers. 

“Seriously?” You taunt him and then slowly slide the gun out of his mouth, your eyes stuck to the string of spit coming from him, and the wetness on your barrel. 

It’s in the flash of a moment that Billy is grabbing your wrist, his bigger hand holding excrucaitingyl tight to you as he forces you to drop the gun. He grabs it with his other hand before you could make a move and he throws it. 

He stands, your wrist still tight in his hand, and doesn’t look back as he drags you the couple feet to his gunbelt, where he grabs his gun, cocking it. He lets go of your wrist with a small shove and points it at you. 

You’re stunned for a moment, processing the sequence of events that just occurred, your mind running rampant and your body still jittery from what the two of you just did. You stay leaned back on your hands, at his mercy, “Go ahead then. Kill me, if you must.” There’s no purpose to your voice. You could scramble for your gun but he could shoot you easily. You could run up and tackle him for his gun, but he’d still have the upperhand. 

You fucked up.

His cursed eyes and just him. Is this why he keeps escaping jails and lawmen?

“I said, kill me,” you say it again, and Billy’s arm is still straight out, gun pointed directly at your heart. His chest is still heaving and his mouth wet and red. 

He lets the moment linger, like he had back at the poker table, then he uncocks his gun, settling it in it’s home in his holster. He leans down to fix his belt on himself on then places his hat back on his head. “I don’t kill women, darlin’.” 

With one more look, his blue eyes cast their last spell, but you’re not sure what. Lingering lust? Arrogance? Pity? He backs off, his gait a saunter. Billy full-on turns his back on you, something so confident it makes you gasp. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there in the dirt and grass, running through the entire encounter, but you know one thing’s for sure.

You’re going to capture that motherfucker someday.

[bruhnze]

Apple tarts and tiramisu - part 3 - Lucy Bronze x reader

Other parts: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Lucy Bronze x Barista!reader

Summary: this story takes place in 2022, when Lucy just moved to Barcelona, ​​all fictional of course.

SMUT - MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3k? Maybe a bit over that .. warning, i didn't proofread..

Apple tarts and tiramisu 3

You dropped besides her on the bed out of breath and laid on your back panting.

"You are so good in bed" Lucy said after a bit "you probably won't believe me but usually others can't really make me cum"

You laughed because not only did you make her come multiple times in the past couple of hours, yesterday you had also made her come twice and that happend pretty quickly if you remembered it right "yeah right, you dont have to try to make me feel good, i already do" you chuckled.

Lucy rolled her eyes "i told you you wouldn't believe me, but now your even laughing at me ouch" she put her hand on her chest and faked being offended.

You climbed on top of her "aw sorry did i hurt your feelings" you sarcasticly said "Do i have to make up for it with another orgasm?" You traced you fingertips at certain parts of Lucy's body, resulting in the exact reaction from her body you had hoped "see, we just did all that and you still can't get enough" you came closer to her ear and wispered "if anything, i think your easy".

Lucy's jaw dropped open, she was usually, almost always, the one who would take the lead in the bedroom with her previous partners.

Lucy couldn't believe what you did and how much effect it had on her.

You broke the tension "but sadly im totally done for" you sighed and stepped out off the bed "shall we take a shower?"

She looked at you confused and with refueld desire "are you just gonna- now you want too-

You smirked and then joked "yeah im not an athlete like you,.. i should probably work on my stamina"

She groaned "sure you dont want to come back to the bed for a minute"

"Lucy," you laughed "if i lay down one more second i am a thousand percent sure i will fall asleep"

"Okay" she sighed "lets take a shower then".

////

The following days were quite busy for Lucy, she wouldn't be free until next sunday. You had asked her if she usually only had an off-day on sundays.

''Hmm, yeah i guess, sunday is supposed to be my rest day, because it's usually the day after the match, so then i shouldn't do too much, saturday's before games are also free time, but then i have to be even more carefull. But my scedule is very versatile, so i just try to live day-to-day really. I look at my agenda weekly and keep it at that''. Had her answer been.

You had a lot of respect for her, you knew she loved football but it was truly a life dedication to play for Barca, you imagined the pay would be quite good but you didn't know if you would trade your own simplistic for such a hectic one.

You thought about how things would be if you and Lucy would get together as a couple one day and daydreamed about it during your whole monday shift.

Lucy had told you she had a busy day that monday and besides that, you weren't sure if she would get her matcha at your coffee shop still after the weekend you had. You didn't know why you had the thought because the two of you had basicaly been texting ever since you left her house that night until she, and you, had to go to sleep. That morning you had recieved a goodmorning text and you had send one back, you had already opened the shop. When she send a picture of her brushing her teeth, you send her one back of you preperaring the coffee machine, deserving a ''cute x'' You didn't know what to reply so you had just replied ''no you x'' After that it had been quiet, resulting in you daydreaming the whole shift.

Around noon your phone buzzed again, for the umpteenth time this day you quickly checked if it was Lucy. Normaly your phone was on silent when you worked, but today you were so eager to recieve another text from the woman that had taken over your thoughts that you had left it on vibration mode.

You smiled, your lockscreen said 'Lucy apple tart send an image , unlock to see.'

You opened it and saw a selfie of her with a sweaty face on some kind of massage table.

@Lucy apple tart: still think im cute 🙃?

@y/n: yes but what are you doing, getting massages?

@y/n: thought you had training 😂

@Lucy apple tart: just done training, and this is physio btw not massages

@Lucy apple tart: although we get those too sometimes, but thats more a recovery thing

@y/n: ah, got it, when is your next game?

@Lucy apple tart: saturday why

@y/n: you have to recover after that right

@Lucy apple tart: yup

@y/n: need a masseur?

@Lucy apple tart: 👀

@y/n: 👀

@Lucy apple tart: its a nearby away game which means i will be back v late 😔

@y/n: ah and sleep is the most important recovery!

@Lucy apple tart: wise and pretty you are!

@y/n: thats just me quoting my PE teacher friend, she's quite a serious gym girl haha

@Lucy apple tart: the one u took to the game?

@y/n: yes shes my bestfriend

@Lucy apple tart: can i meet her sometimes? she sounds v nice

@y/n: bet she would love that

@Lucy apple tart: cool

@Lucy apple tart: if you want it could be at the game saturday?

@y/n: maybe a bit too public no?

@Lucy apple tart: GIF

@y/n: sticker

@y/n: cant be seen in public with u

@Lucy apple tart: 😂😂

@y/n: but fr?

@Lucy apple tart: love that you care and take my side in to perspective x

@Lucy apple tart: but ill fix tickets thatll get you access to the lounge before and after the game, we wont be there before the game but after we will, and then i could meet her?

@y/n: really

@Lucy apple tart: yeah im excited to meet your friend, usually that comes before the parents right

@y/n: lol u already met my mom tho

@Lucy apple tart: 😳

@y/n: well (yfs/n) will be v excited

@Lucy apple tart: im too!

You took a screenshot of the conversation to send to your bestfriend to tell her that she had been invited.

You wrote ''Espero que encara sigueu lliure, vau ser convidat per la mateixa senyoreta abs xx'' (hope your free, you were invited by miss abs herself xx) send her the screenshot.

One second later you realised you had send it back to Lucy.

@y/n: fuck

@y/n: wait dont translate pls

@y/n: just wanted to send yfs/n that she should keep her saturday empty

@Lucy apple tart: 😂😂😂😂Lucy apple tart

@y/n: omg

@y/n: didnt even remember that i had put that as your name

@y/n: 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

@Lucy apple tart: senyoreta abs 👀

@y/n: nooo abs is something else in catalan

@Lucy apple tart: what does it mean then?

@y/n: it means absolutely :)

@Lucy apple tart: ah okay!

..you texted your friend the screenshot and one of this part of the conversation..

@y/n: my excuse was terrible wasnt it

@Lucy apple tart:😂

@y/n: sry for objectifying you 😔

@Lucy apple tart: nah you give the best nicknames lmao

@y/n: really?

@Lucy apple tart: yh i cant pick if i like guapa or senorita abs best

@y/n: senyoreta abs

@Lucy apple tart: 😂 okay that ll be it then

@y/n: no you wrote spanish dummy

@Lucy apple tart: oop, senyoreta abs*

@y/n: good

@Lucy apple tart: good girl?

@y/n: now your pushing it apple tart!

@Lucy apple tart: sticker

@y/n: Sticker

@Lucy apple tart: ah shit gtg

@Lucy apple tart: ttyl pretty girl

@y/n: sticker

////

''I love this for you'' your friend said to you as you were sitting in the car driving to the stadium one town away ''and that you sent her the screenshot omg, so funny''.

''i felt so dumb omg'' you replied in Catalan ''but luckily she passed all the tests, she's not stuck up at all'.

Your friend quirked an eyebrow ''all the tests?''

''yeah, the putellas shirt? and now this too, she didn't even tease me about it'' you said.

''Maybe she's saving that'' your friend grinned.

You had told her to very detail about your experiences in bed with the dark-haired defender. The two of you always shared everything, eventhough her story's would be about men and yours about women.

''Stop it!'' you kept one hand on the steering wheel and with the other you poked her side ''and you will not say anything embarrasing about me later''.

''i wont y/n'' your friend said truthfully, but jokingly added ''i love getting to watch these games from the stands, im not going to take risks and end up behind the TV again''.

''good keep thinking about that'' you said.

''you aren't nervous are you?'' she asked

'' a little bit maybe, but i dont really know why, just healthy nerves i guess'' you stared at the road.

''hm, well im there to hold your hand'' she said and rubbed your arm affirmatively.

''Thank you''

..

''by the way, i wanted to pick up going to the gym a bit more if you still wanted me to come with? '' you asked.

''ugh i hate the fact that i know your motivation is sex but i love that you finally want to come so ill take it'' your friend groaned.

''what?''

''nah dont play stupid, you told me yourself that you lacked stamina to keep up with her''.

''Sorry sometimes i forget we share too much with eachother'' you groaned back

''nuh uh no such thing as oversharing'' her smile came back ''i love hearing about your life and i love oversharing mine''

''yeah true that, how did that date go anyways?''

''thuesday?''

''yeah''.

////

It was after the game. Your friend and you had watched Barca beat Girona FC with 1-4. It had been a scary start, as Girona had been 1-0 ahead, but overall Barca had been the better party.

''Here'' your friend handed you a drink ''got it from there'' she pointed at a bar in the corner.

There were quite a few people hanging around in the lounge. You saw your friend observing everyone ''recognise annyone?''

Your friend laughed ''yeah it's funny, i see some family members of the players'' she nodded in a direction ''i believe that is Olga, she's Putellas girl''.

''How do you know?''

''Instagram'' she replied ''honestly i cant believe how bad you're living under a rock, even now, i would've been searching the whole internet if my girlfriend was famous, you have-

''she's not my girlfriend'' you hissed as your cheeks got flushed.

''oh sorry'' your friend smirked but when she saw your face she said ''ill behave''.

''Good, corazón de melón''

Your friend cringed, she hated when you used that nickname. But when she looked over your shoulder her face came back to a smile ''if that isn't senyoreta abs''.

You turned around shamefully quick and saw a few Barca players entering the lounge, freshly showered and dressed in a tracksuit.

You turned back to your friend wanting to ask were, but when you saw a stupid grinn on her face you know she had fooled you.

''ahhh you shouldve seen how quickly you turned'' she burst out laughing.

''Something funny?'' you heard a farmilliar face.

This time you turned around more slowely ''Lucy?''

''heyy you remembered my name'' Lucy said as she walked over to the two of you and gave you a hug.

''well this is yfs/n'' you looked over to your friend ''yfs/n this is Lucy''.

''yep i knew'' your friend said unusually shy.

You chuckled ''where did your big mouth go, it's just lucy''.

Lucy became also a bit shy ''hey yfs/n heard so many good things about you., can i hug you?''

''yeah ofcourse'' your friend said enthousiasticly.

The three of you chatted for a while and when the players left the room one by one , Lucy was the only player left in the lounge.

When your friend and Lucy talked about a subject you didn't really care for, sports, you're eyes wandered around the room.

''eh Luce, dont want to be a buzz kill but your mates have left''

''Oh shit'' Lucy said ''thanks, should probably get running, dont want to miss the bus''.

She dapped your friend up, which made you frown, but then gave you a hug. ''bye pretty girl'' she wispered in you ear.

As she walked off you said ''bye apple tarts'' but you doubted she heared it.

////

You were back in your apartment, you had dropped of your friend at hers and was now walking to your bed, dieing for something more comfy to wear.

Your phone rang, it was Lucy.

''Hey'' Lucy said carefully.

''what's up'' you said as you had the phone between your ear and shoulder pulling of your pants and socks.

''Hello to you too'' lucy laughed ''wanted to ask if you got home safe''

''sorry'' you laughed back ''im multitasking, but yes im at home''

''oh what are you doing?'' She asked sincere, truely curious what you were up too.

You snickered ''well if you need to know, im getting undressed''

''oh, really'' she said cheeky

Your phone buzzed and you took it in your hand to look.

*FaceTime request from Lucy apple tarts*

''ohh nooo apple tarts, cheeky bastard'' you laughed.

''ugh, worth a try'' she pouted true the phone.

''If you really want a peek you'd have to come here'' you teased

''Well,.. i guess i still have that offer for a massage to take you up on'' she said.

In the same tone she used you replied ''yeah i guess you do, you should probably cash that, never know when it will expire''.

////

You had taken out oil from somewhere and lit a candle, on the bed you had placed two folded towels and a white bathrobe.

''hello'' you called true the intercom as Lucy had buzzed it.

In the time it had took her to come to you, which had been suprisingly little, you had put on some lingerie and on top of that a oversized shirt.

''y/n'' she said as you opened the door.

''hey Luce-'' you said with a dopey smile.

''what? were are you smiling at?'' She asked and looked at her sweater, thinking she had maybe spilled something.

''No silly'' you stepped into her space ''happy i can finally kiss you again''.

''hmm'' lucy said as she came closer to your mouth with her own ''yeah finally indeed''.

...

''wow, you have prepared'' Lucy smiled

''yeah, you can wear the robe i guess, i have to admitt i dont realllyy know what im doing''.

''hm'', Lucy grinned ''well im with you, i only know sportsmassages and than im in my kit'', ''or underwear''.

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow ''underwear''

''yeah you know, sportsbra'' she lifted her shirt a bit and pointed at her briefs ''boxers''.

''ohhhh underwear'' you sarcasticly replied ''okay so, underwear? or i could put those towels over you''.

''mkay'' Lucy grinned ''if you insist, i wouldn't have minded to be bare''.

''well we haven't started yet, you could-

''no ill take that towel'' she smirked ''for over my butt''.

...

you had spent a fair time kneeding Lucy's back muscles and shoulders and was now busy on her hamstrings.

''very thight'' you said, not realising how dirty that sounded.

Lucy hadn't picked up on it either and groaned ''yeah especially that left one''

You moved to her left.

''ah yeah, there'' ''uhg, a litte more le- ahrggghh yeah like that'''.

The sounds Lucy made and the words she grunted had you blushing.

You went to her calves for a bit before retrieving back to her hamstrings creeping up slowely but surely. Your hands were already pretty far under the towel, but the towel had been so big that when you had folded it double, it still covered way to much area for your liking.

''i think i have to get the towel out of the way'' you say ''cant reach your gluteus maximus''.

Lucy laughed into the bed ''if you want to touch my butt just ask''.

''no'' you stayed in your role ''this is a sportsmassage, cant ignore the largest muscle of the body, can i''.

''Calling my ass fat'' she snickered

''You think its funny?''' You said smugly and experimentally gave a little smack to her butt.

'Agh' a moan escaped her throath.

You massaged her ass, grabbing hands full and kneeded it. Before you tracked back to her muscles, continuing the 'sports' massage.

You didnt know if you saw it right, but you thought you saw her lifting her butt just a bit from the bed.

You stood up. "Turn around?" You asked.

She groaned bit turned around, she didn't bother trying to cover up anymore. Leaving the towel where you had dropped it next to her on the bed.

You shamelessly let your eyes roam her body.

Lucy squirmed under your gaze and reached out to one of your hands and placed it on her body.

"tan bonic" (so beautiful) you said softly almost wispering it.

You traced over her abdomen, feeling the buldging muscles below her skin.

Lucy's nipples hardened, and she grabbed her boobs with her own hands.

"Ey, atura ho" you said with an husk voice "i thought i was giving you the massage".

"O" lucy retracted her hands and laid them back besides her.

The way she obeyed you turned you on increddibly.

You climbed on top of her, sitting on hip height of her body, feeling your pulsating heat press into her body.

You want to reach forward to cup her breasts but the long t-shirt that you wore was caught between your bodies, restricting your movement.

With your knees on either side of Lucy you sit up a bit and pull of the shirt. Leaving you in just your underwear but still more dressed than Lucy is.

"Best massage ever" lucy grinned " a masseuse that takes of her shirt"

"It got in my way" you said a you palmed her chest.

"Im not complaining" she said.

When you took her nipples between your fingers she closed her eyes.

You leaned down to kiss her neck. Making you grind on her a little wich make you realise how wet you were.

Her hands found your hips and encouraged your movement.

You sat up a little bit more searching for the angle that worked best for you.

Lucy looked you in your eyes, you recougnised lust in her eyes.

"Tell me" you pant, slowing your movement "what's your happy ending?"

She tried to read your face, not completely understanding you or wanting to make sure she understanded you correctly.

"Anyting" you wispered ensuring "celebrate the win with me?"

She gulped and sat straight up, your upperbodies were now almost touching as you sat on her lap.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Mhm" you grinned "i can see in your eyes you need something"

Luxy pulled you in for a kiss and turned the two of you so that she was now on top of you.

"I brought something" she wispered "wait for me"

You laughed "no i wont go anywere i promise" after all you were laying in your own bed, you wouldnt even know were to go.

You blew out the candle that you saw was still burning, thinking it was hot enough in the room. And made yourself comfortable.

You realised how late it actually was and thought about the fact that you didnt feel sleepy at all.

If anything you felt adrenaline, curious about the thing Lucy had brought.

You didnt have to wait for an awnser long because Lucy stepped back into the room.

You saw her wearing a strap-on, with a black harness.

Lucy looked at you waiting for a respons.

When she didnt move, you stood up from the bed and walked her way.

You gave her a little kiss on her bottom lip and then went to her cheek.

"Hey" you said in her ear and turned to kiss her neck. You felt her shiver below your tender kisses.

"Hey" lucy said back "what do you think?" She asked carefully.

"I think your hot" you said softly biting her skin "and maybe you should carrie me to the bed" you hand felt up her stomach and went to her bicep.

Lucy smiled "you ike me muscles pretty girl?"

Her voice was low and she sounded more english, you took it as a sign that she was just as turned on as you.

She grabbed your ass and effortlessly lifted you up. You sat against the thick plastic item attached to Lucy.

You groaned, the 'massage' you had given lucy and the grinding on Lucy had already worked you up so much that you were sure you didnt need much to come undone.

Lucy turned around before the bed and sat down with you on her lap.

The two of you became entangled in a heavy make out session.

She was such a good kisser, you lost yourself in the kiss and your hips moved on their own.

She broke away from the kiss, placing a few more on your lips.

"Want to ride me?"

"Mhmm yeah" you moaned out, imagening feeling her inside already.

You stepped of her lap and quickly took of the pieces you were still wearing.

Lucy scootched back on the bed. Leaning her back against the headboard.

She looked at you with a glistering in her eyes. "la chica mas bonita" (the prettiest)

You smiled and got back on the bed, taking place on her thighs.

"cant wait to have you on my cock" Lucy said as she rubbed your upper thighs and hips.

You looked at her with wide eyes, not expecting those words.

"sorry, too much?

You didnt answer but kissed her. She returned the same energy but let yku lead the kiss.

When you broke the kiss you wispered " want to feel you inside me luce"

She guided you on to her strap, you lowered yourself carefully.

You closed your eyes and your hands found Lucy's abdomen to stabilise yourself.

She replaced her hands so they were a bit more on your ass rather then your hips and leaned in to kiss your neck.

The movement with her inside you set a low moan free from your throath.

She kissed your neck softly.

Once you had adjusted to the object that was within you, you began to move slowly.

"Lucy you feel so good" you said grinding down on her.

She kneeded your ass and sat up straighter, you removed your arma from inbetween the two of you to around her. Pulling her even more close to you.

Her mouth working you neck, her hands on your butt and her body coliding with yours in many places by the intimit embrace you shared all took part in the uncontrolable high you experienced.

You cried out Lucy's name and digged you nails in her back as you rutted up and down her dick a few more strokes before collapsing against her.

Her fingers traced your back and then went to wipe some strands of hair out of your face "that was amazing" she said with a scrill voice.

"Hmm" you nodded against her neck "you feel amazing, show me how good you can make me feel?"

"now?"

"Mhmm" you groaned "i want you lucy"

-----

That concludes part 3 😳 hope you liked it

more parts

[imaginesmai]

could i request azriel with t (time) from your angst alphabet?

T for Time: you're ill and you don't have much time together, from my Angst Alphabet

Since I don't think fae can get ill, I changed this a little bit. This is sad and heartbreaking and please forgive me. Send in your requests if you have them!

Warning: pregnancy gone wrong, death during labor, descriptions of pregnancy injuries.

Time you take for granted - Azriel

2nd month

The night had brought an intense rain over Velaris, that had soaked the streets and threatened its villagers into their houses. Even cats and dogs had found shelter between the containers and hallways. Fires burned in almost every home, families laughing around it and sharing stories about their days.

Azriel could only guess their days had been better than his, than yours. There was no fire in your house that night, and he wouldn’t be lighting one. Not when darkness helped him disguise the terror stuck in his face, the tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“We will have to talk about this, my love. Eventually” you broke the silence from your sitting place in bed, across from his couch. “You can’t close off”

He had been doing that since you two received the news hours away, when the sun still warmed the streets. When he thought his life was at his peak, with a loving mate who walked wrapped around his left arm.

He could do that for a little bit longer. Pretend Madja had just sent you off with some medical prescriptions for the nausea and two weeks leave for your job. Pretend Rhysand would grimace but allow him to disappear those two weeks with you.

“Please, Az. I’m scared too. I don’t want to do this alone” your voice sounded too at the brim of panic. “I need you”

Those words made him look up from the stain of the carpet. Azriel had been sitting in the couch, quiet and unmoving, for a long hour. Enough time to process the information, the fears and doubts. He guessed that was enough time for him, given the news were mainly about and for you.

It wasn’t about him.

Azriel rose up and took the few steps that separated you. The bed dipped under his weight, and you shifted until one of your legs was on his lap. Until you could wrap both your arms around his own and make sure he wouldn’t leave. He tried to give you a comforting smile, that came out crooked.

“I know we weren’t planning this. But it could be good. We can’t be sure it’ll be a problem, Madja can be wrong. She even said there’s a long way to go” you assured him.

“What about not starting it?” Azriel proposed for the first time, his fears getting the best out of him. “It can be a problem. We know how hard it was for Feyre and for Nyx, maybe we should… contemplate other options”

“No, Az. We’re going to have a baby. And it’s going to be alright”

Azriel would remember your determination for days, the confidence in your words watering down his worries and Madja’s warnings about a pregnancy in a non-winged female. He found in them the excitement to share the news with his family, to go through that first month by your side with an easy smile.

He even allowed himself to believe that his life was about to get better. Azriel let your words and confidence become his, and ignored the bad feeling in his gut.

3rd month

 “What do you think it will be? A boy or a girl?”

Azriel didn’t bother looking at you, not when his whole body was touching some part of yours. You were laying in his arms looking up the sky, both your hands wrapped around your middle. Where, shortly, you would start showing signs of your pregnancy.

It was a sunny day, and the memory of the announcement and Madja’s words were far away. You had decided to have a picnic in the mountains. It was cold, and windy, yet looking up at the morning sky with his mate safe between his arms was beyond weather problems.

He thought about your question for a second, trying to decide what he wanted more. Cassian was a girls’ dad, and he wouldn’t stop trying for one until Nesta and him had at least three. Rhysand, though, liked to dress baby Nyx in the finest clothes and buy him the most elegant little-bowties.

“I don’t care. I just hope they look like you” he smiled against your nose that brushed his neck. “That they have ten little toes. Ten tiny fingers. Pointy ears. A button nose”

“Glad you want a baby and not a dog”

He chuckled and you laughed with him, and he was happy. Azriel hummed softly, with the certainty that he didn’t care about the gender. Either boy or girl would have him wrapped around their pinky – he or she already had, given the amount of stupid baby stuff he had bought in just one month.

Your face appeared and broke his thoughts apart. Pregnancy seemed to make you glow, not only your scent sweetened but your face brightened. Your cheeks were rosy from the cold, and while your head was covered with a thick hat, some locks fell over his face and ticked his nose.

He scrunched it and tried to brush them away.

Leaning down, you captured his lips on a kiss and his hands tightened on your waist. He let himself relax under your, years of training and feeling unsafe gone when you were in his arms. The kiss was slow, your lips moving against his lazily. Both your noses nuzzled each other, and you squirmed with a soft chuckle when he pressed his fingers against your ribs.

“I love you” you whispered against his mouth, not opening your eyes.

“I love you more. Both of you”

Azriel let his hands explore every inch of your body in that forgotten mountain, let his heart roar in happiness when you broke away and stared into his eyes with so much love his bones threatened to melt.

He pushed the lasts of his worries away before kissing you.

4th month

It wasn’t unusual for you to find your place on Azriel’s lap. He never complained about it, but lately he found a particular joy in it. With your bump showing, he could have both his worlds close to his soul.

You were just in that position when the first worrying question came through. After a game night where you had lost three times, you had declined the next round. Azriel was playfully biting your earlobe, loving how you squirmed on his lap. He couldn’t help the growing hardness in his pants, and like a growing teenager, found himself pushing you to move more.

He was minutes away from dragging you both to your rooms when he caught on the conversation between you and Feyre.

“It must be wonderful, knowing you’re so close to the third trimester” Feyre was saying, ignoring her own mate’s hand trying to sneak under her dress. “How is the nausea going? Mine never left”

“I’m doing fine now, at least I can have breakfast and keep it inside” you shifted in his lap when Azriel ran his tongue through your pulse point. “The worst part are the clothes. I can’t keep anything for more than a few weeks”

“I had a whole new wardrobe by the time I had that belly” she pointed with her chin to your bulge. “The sixth month is hard”

“I’m… it’s been four. Not six”

You smiled at her with innocence, but the whole room fell quiet and your smile dropped. Feyre’s own face paled a little as she looked at your belly. Looking down, you wondered what they saw that made them fell silent. You weren’t a big person, compared to fae’s and coming from the continent, where your kind were shorter than other people.

And sure, the belly looked big on you. But you were pregnant, and you thought that was normal.

Azriel tensed under you and, for the first time in two months, realized that your pregnancy was looking a little too different from Feyre’s. He always kept track on details, on things people didn’t usually notice. And when Feyre mentioned, he realized that you were far bigger.

His arousal and joy died down when he felt a rush of fear down the bond. It was normal, right? Different people, different pregnancies. Azriel was bigger than Rhysand, taller and broader, and his wings were certainly wider too.

Feyre ended up dismissing the mistake with a hesitant smile, and Morgan chipped in to ask for more wine. The conversation returned shortly after, but that time, there were no playful bites or kisses. You leaned back farther into his embrace and he let his shadows caress your hair, your belly, your fingers. Anything to erase the first spec of worry in that beautiful journey.

5th month

The news were hard to digest, and that time, Azriel didn’t let your cheerful words dig in. He smiled at your excitement, he held you as you jumped in joy and gleamed with the new information. Azriel didn’t say anything until you were asleep in bed, laying on your back with your belly on display.

Only when he was sure you wouldn’t wake up, he winnowed away to Rhysand’s office, when he and Cassian were already waiting for him. They both wore worried faces, and perked up at his presence. After all, it had been him who had asked them to meet him.

Azriel needed to share his worries, to acknowledge the risk, and he couldn’t do it with you, not when the pregnancy pains were already taking a toll on your days.

“Madja admitted she’s indeed too big for only five months. That she looks ready to give birth, not to be halfway a pregnancy” Azriel said, slumping down on the comfy chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face. He was exhausted. “We’re… having twins. A boy and a girl”

“That’s good news, Az. A son and a daughter”

Cassian’s words did nothing to subdue his worries. He tugged at the end of his hair, not knowing what else to say. Madja’s face had said it all – the tightness of her shoulders, the paleness in her face, the shakiness in her hands. Fae pregnancies were already rare, but twins? Azriel didn’t know any twins, let alone whose mother wasn’t winger and whose father was.

Madja had asked you to see her each week. She had sent you into mandatory rest for the rest of your pregnancy, and Azriel wouldn’t be leaving your side for that time. It wasn’t his job that worried him. Not even his training. If staying with you meant everything would be okay, he wouldn’t sleep nor blink.

“What about… other options?” Rhysand proposed, earning a wary look from Cassian.

“She doesn’t want to hear about them. Shuts down when she sees me coming. Since Feyre’s comment on her size, I’ve been testing the waters” he felts his eyes water at your negative. “Y/N wants to continue the pregnancy and I don’t know what to do anymore”

“It doesn’t have to go wrong, brother” Cassian knelt on his right and squeezed his forearm. Rhysand’s hand fell on his shoulders. “You can get through this, she’s a strong female. Don’t think the worst yet”

“I’m afraid”

Those words were the last thing Azriel said before breaking down in front of his brothers. He would be strong for you, would offer you kind words and support when you needed him because he had to. But he let himself drown in anguish at the bad feeling of his gut that was coming alive little by little.

That night, Azriel let his brother hug him and soaked into his fake comforts. There was nothing any of them could do about it, yet they tried to believe against it. When he went back home, he dried his tears and laid down in time to watch you wake up, a sleepy grin on his face.

Azriel repeated that routine many times in the months to come.

6th month

Entering the third trimester brought along the first problems.

Azriel didn’t let you get out of bed without him, only allowing what Madja called ‘stretching your legs for circulations’. You complained and complained until Azriel threatened to shut you up with a gag, and that led to other activities.

Through all of it, Azriel held himself back and refused to bury himself where he needed. Instead, he let his hands and mouth do all the work gladly. You slept soundly after that, and as Azriel followed you with a content sigh, he should have guessed it was too good to be true.

He was a light sleeper, so he couldn’t understand why he only woke up at the sound of muffled sobs in the bathroom. Sheets got tangled between his legs as he ran out of bed, crawling to you while his left foot dragged the whole night cloth with him.

You were sitting in the toilet with your nightgown bundled around your belly, now large enough to make you wobbly while walking. With a fist against your mouth, you cried desperately and looked between your legs, down to the toilet. Azriel didn’t need to feel the bond to know you were panicking and in pain.

“What’s wrong?” he hoisted himself up and stumbled down on his knees in front of you, until you met his widened eyes. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“I peed” you managed to hiccup against your closed fist. “I peed”

“You peed?”

You peed all the time. In the toilet, in the kitchen, in bed. He had found himself used to waking up with warm sheets, because you couldn’t make it to the bathroom. With two babies pushing your bladder constantly, he refused to let you feel embarrassed or clean the sheets.

Pee was normal, yet your face screamed at him with an urgency he couldn’t understand, that his soul was roaring for. His hands were uselessly trying to fight an enemy he couldn’t protect you from, that his power couldn’t destroy.

“I peed blood” you admitted quietly, looking down the toilet again.

Azriel followed your gaze and watched the few spots of blood inside the toilet. Inside, a reddish liquid lay. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of you bleeding, of you being hurt. His body went on autopilot as he gathered paper and cleaned you softly.

As you leaned against the wall, he gladly inspected for the origin of the bleeding. Madja had assured you that it was normal a little bleeding, but he listened to his inner voice and kept looking.

You ended up calming down in his arms, as he guided you back to bed with the promise of calling for Madja in the morning.

He tried to convince himself it was normal, as Madja had said. As you tried to tell him while you fell asleep, for your and his sake.

Azriel didn’t believe it, and didn’t sleep that night. When next morning you peed blood again, he just winnowed you to the clinic.

7th month

Madja’s words haunted him for days, and he only slept when he fell unconscious. If he wasn’t unconscious, he stared at you for hours or cried to his brothers more often than not. They were his support, his lifeline, and he was yours.

One winged baby was enough to cause damage to a winged-mother, threatening her life on a normal basis. One winged baby could kill a non-winged mother any day, during labor or during the pregnancy.

Two winged babies on a non-winged mother were tearing your body apart.

One of the talons had ripped through the womb and into your bladder, causing a small tear. Madja had fixed it, yet had deemed appropriate to move into your house and be within reach for the next occasions.

“There might not be any other problems, but just in case I want to be close” she announced, looking into both your eyes to make sure you understood. “We’ve been lucky the talons are still small. But they’re growing”

Two days after the first tear, the same talon reopened the same wound. You peed blood and Azriel held you close as Madja healed you, his own breaths coming in pants at your pain.

She took the decision to try and move the babies a little, which put you in so much pain that you broke two of Azriel’s fingers from squeezing his hand. He didn’t say anything as he switched hands.

That solution was temporary, as a week later, you puked blood. The other baby’s talon had caused an internal injury, and in just two days not even Madja’s protection was enough to keep the bruises off your belly.

Your huge, bruised belly that Azriel caressed every night along with your face.

“Please” he begged you with tears in his eyes, ignoring the pain he was causing you at his petition – he had to, when you suffered every breathing minute. “Please, consider it. I don’t want to lose you”

“There’s a chance they’ll make it, Az. I can’t ignore that chance”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t – You’re –“

His words always died down in sobs, and during that month, he wasn’t strong enough to leave to his brothers’ embrace. Azriel broke down in your arms, laying on your collarbone as he begged you to end the pregnancy, to ensure your life while you still could. Maybe you weren’t linked like Feyre and Rhysand were, but if you died, Azriel was sure he would too.

You didn’t change your answer, and he still begged every night.

8th month

Your body was too small, to fragile.

He watched his own children drain the life out of you, but he couldn’t hate anyone but himself. Hate his choices, his brief hopes that had made him careless and put you in that situation. There were no longer walks or laughs, just your body in a bed, with Madja by your side more often than not.

Azriel too was always by your side, so when it happened, he was there.

There was no way of knowing if it was the own weight of the babies, the lack of your strength or one wrong move. One moment you were leaning against him to reach the bathroom and the other you were screaming in pain as your knees buckled. He heard as part of your spine gave up under the weight, as you crumbled down.

Madja and the other healer were by your side in a second, pushing your body to the bed and yelling at him to move.

Azriel couldn’t.

Azriel listened to each and every cry that left your lips, smelt every tear that licked your cheeks, and felt every nail mark you left on his forearm. He didn’t bother begging or crying, he wouldn’t let his emotions leave its cage because then he would be gone too. He would be so far away no one would ever reach him, and you needed him.

Feyre’s presence was just a memory on the edge of his vision, the kind woman in charge of emitting those pointless comfort words he couldn’t get out. Azriel whined when your spine was put back together by four, five, or six healers.

He didn’t need to ask what would happen now, or why they had long faces. He didn’t have to try and change your mind, as you wouldn’t move. He only let another anguish cry.

Until birth, my lady. We can hold it until birth.

9th month

Azriel didn’t register the blood on his face. Maybe it was his, from how hard he had dug his nails against his face. How he had wanted to rip himself apart, and had almost done it. Maybe it was from Cassian, who had tried to avoid his brother entering the birth room. Or from you.

His throat was raw, there was no voice coming out of him. And his clothes were soaked. With tears, with sweat, with blood. With his own sick, that he had thrown over himself.

The sky had opened to cry with him that night, it seemed. Azriel would have been soaking wet if it wasn’t for the roof above his head. He didn’t know which roof it was, where he was. How had they gotten him out of the room once your heart stopped beating.

Once Madja stepped away from your broken body, blood still seeping to the floor. He could still hear the phantom of his own voice before your eyes rolled back. There was no point in trying, in begging, so he had just been there. Holding your body, praising you, swapping the sweaty hair out of your face.

I love you

You’re doing good, I love you

My beautiful mate, I love

How you’ve changed my life, I love you

I love you

He had cried the words but had made sure you had heard each one of them, because for nine months, he had known those would be the last thing you heard.

A rebel tear rolled down his cheek, down his jaw and the column of his neck. Another one hit the bundle, the tiny sweet bundle, that rested in his arms. He had been holding his daughter for three hours, and he wouldn’t be moving for a while.

Azriel stared at the only survivor of the birth, a baby-girl with floppy wings. With then little toes and ten little fingers. With pointy ears and a button nose. He couldn’t say yet if she looked like you or not, if she had your eyes or hair.

What she had, was the stubborn soul of her mother. She had survived the birth while her brother had died with you. Had survived being smaller than her death brother, who took most of the space. Had survived the first hours which Madja had said would be crucial.

He didn’t have more tears to share or more feelings to break over. Azriel felt void, vacant, like the part of his soul had been ripped. He wasn’t sure he was even alive, only the weight on his arms the constant reminder.

The rain hit the windows with an enormous strength, but the baby didn’t notice. She kept sleeping soundly in her father’s arms, unaware of the world she had just entered. Azriel had enough strength to stagger back to the couch before breaking down in a silent cry that shook his body.

The baby still didn’t stir.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes

[annabelinlove]

I am yours

Pairing: Poly!marauders x reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: How your searching for love led you to the Marauders

Notes: English is not my first language, use of Y/n, James was dating Lily but then stared dating Wolfstar, just started writing so maybe shit lol

Dating wasn’t easy, not when you were a student at Hogwarts where everyone was in each other business and you couldn’t do anything without it being the hot topic all around the school the next day. Also, being a Slytherin was view as being a snobbish bitch, which didn’t really help your dating life. And still, you wanted to be loved and love with your whole heart.

“I know you’re not studying, darling.”

Your thinking was disturbed by a calm voice that belong to no other than Remus Lupin. You had no idea, how your friendship with the marauders began. Maybe it was when you were 11 and James Potter helped you find your class, when you were wandering lost around the Castle. Maybe it was when you were 13 in a potion class and your hair was falling into your face and Sirius Black gave you his scrunchie so you won’t fuck up the potion because you couldn’t see. Or was it when Remus Lupin gave you his chocolate when he found you frustrated in the library over a stupid homework when you were 12? You really didn’t know, but the golden boys of Gryffindor were your best friends and you wouldn’t change a thing, even if you were secretly hoping, that you could be more.

“I am studying.” You tried to defend yourself, even if you were lost in your thoughts for the last 10 minutes. Remus gave you un unimpressed look as if trying to tell you that he knew you were lying.

“You were just staring at the page for Merlin knows how long, you can’t fool me, darling.” You were sure that the pet names, that each of the marauders gave you would be the end of you yet you would probably really die if they stopped with them.

“Maybe I’m just really interested in this page,” you tried once again, but you knew you were doomed. “Pff, even Moony doesn’t stare that long at a page when it’s interesting. What’s on your mind, hm?” James joined the conversation, ditching his homework.

“This Slytherin boy I’ve been seeing wants to take things to the next level,” you admitted, thinking about the conversation you had this morning. Sirius raised his head, that was comfortably in Remus’ lap, suddenly intrigued in the conversation as well. All 3 pairs of eyes were on you, all of them having a different emotion in them. You squirmed in the silence, hoping one of them would break the silence. After a few seconds Sirius was the first to speak.

“Who was it again? So I can break his face the next time I see him.” You blinked at him, surprised by his violent tendencies. You didn’t know what kind of reaction you expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. Not knowing what to say you just stared at him, but thankfully Remus came to your aid.

“Come on, Pads. Maybe Y/n wants to take things to the next level and I’m pretty sure broken bones would kind of ruin that.” He scolded the raven haired boy, but gave you a curious glance, wondering what was your answer.

“I told him I’d think about it, but I don’t really know what I should tell him. He’s nice and everything, but I feel absolutely nothing when I’m with him,” you answered the unsaid question of all three boys. “Good.” was the immediate answer from Sirius, but James jumped in before he could say anything else. “Is that what’s bothering you, sweets? If you don’t want to be with him, just say it.” He took you hand, when he notices you picking on your nails, a nasty habit you did whenever you were nervous.

It took you a second before answering, looking at yours and James’ joined hands.

“I guess I just expected more, ya know? When he first asked me out, I think I said yes just because I was so surprised anyone would find me attractive or interesting enough to want to go out with, especially someone I just met on hallways and saw in the common room, someone who didn’t know me and I was so eager to go with him because I was hoping I’d finally find someone I could be really happy with. Feel the butterflies and the love and all that shit but that didn’t happen. I don’t feel anything when I’m with him and I don’t know what to do now that I know it’s not what I hoped for.” You were quiet for a second, the boys not interrupting you. They knew you and knew you had more to say.

“But maybe I should be his girlfriend, take things to the next level. So what if it’s not like what I dreamed of, we can’t always have what we want and it’d nice to be someone’s girlfriend. Be with someone who cares about you is always nice, am I right? It could also help me stop feeling like a fourth wheel whenever we hang out and you’re acting all coupley while I’m just kind of there.” You spilled how you felt without being able to stop yourself. Was it the best choice? Maybe not, but you really needed to talk to someone about your feelings and you trusted them and knew they would never judge you.

“Surprised anyone would find you attractive enough? When was the last time you looked into a mirror, pet? Your are by far the most gorgeous girl in Hogwarts. But don’t be fooled, we don’t hang out with you for your looks, but because of how you make us feel. How you make us laugh when we’re sad, how you take care of us and do everything you think we might need, because of how amazing you and your personality is. Everybody would be proud to call you theirs. I’m actually surprised it took this long for someone to ask you out. I would have done it ages ago if I knew I’d stood a chance.” You lifted your head to look at Sirius, finding him looking at you in disbelief. You were definitely surprised by his words. You felt warmth spreading inside you body, thinking about his words. I would have done it ages ago if I knew I’d stood a chance, what did he mean by that? But before you could ask, Remus continued Sirius’ speech.

“Being with someone just to not be alone isn’t really a healthy thing, love. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be with this guy, do whatever you want, you are your own person and no one can tell you what do. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t waste your time dating someone you don’t feel any connection with. If you want butterflies, go find someone who makes you feel butterflies. You deserve so much more than to be with some bloke who doesn’t meet your expectations. Don’t lower your standards for anyone. And we never, ever wanted to make you feel like a fourth wheel, and we’re really sorry we did, love. If you’d feel more comfortable, we could stop acting all coupley, as you’ve put it, and be much less PDA with you. Whatever makes you happy and feeling the most comfortable with us.” Even tho he tried to mask it, you could see the hurt on his face and hear it in his voice. You didn’t think that your words would hurt them, that was the last thing you wanted.

“Listen to me and listen carefully, can you do that, sweetheart? I always thought that being with Lily would make me the happiest man in the world, that’s why I was trying so hard to get together with her. But when it finally happened I wasn’t happy. I tried so hard to love her, but I realized that I never did, I just loved the idea of her loving me. I wanted the same thing you want now. Everyday I saw how Pads and Moony are in love and I wanted that, just not with Lily, as I’ve come to realize. We were both unhappy so why should we stay together? Breaking up with her was the best thing ever, because it led her to be with Mary and I found my way to my boys. And let me tell you, being with them is the happiest I could ever be. And with you by our side. If you don’t feel happy, don’t waste your time with him. You may thing that it’s gonna be okay and you’ll find what you want, but it’s only gonna leave you miserable in the end,” James added.

You tried to wrap your head around everything what was said, but it left you confused. You knew you didn’t want to be with the Slytherin boy, you wanted to be part of the relationship these boys had, but you knew it wouldn’t be possible. But maybe they were right and being in a relationship just to be in one was stupid.

“I never want you to start acting differently or hide your relationship around me That’s the last thing I want and I’m sorry if it came out like I did. I love seeing you all in love, I really do. I feel the most comfortable when you are being yourselves, so please don’t ever change that,” you started to explain. You knew that if you didn’t say anything now, you never would. “I guess I’m just a little jealous that I could never be part of the love you share, you know? I think I want to be with someone so bad so I would stop feeling the need to be with you. Everyday I see how happy you are and I feel jealous because I know I’m not the reason you are happy. I stared something with this boy because I was hoping it would make these feeling stop, but if anything it has gotten worse. Every time he did something, the only thing I could think about was that you would do it differently,” you ended your speech, feeling nervous about what they would say. Would they reject you? Make fun of you? They would never do that told you the voice in you head and you knew it was right, you just didn’t know what to expect now.

“Then let us. Let us treat you like royalty, like you deserve. Let us love you like you deserve, let us be yours and let yourself be ours. Let us take you out and show you what love is supposed to feel like. Please, just let us, pet,” Sirius almost begged. You looked at him in surprise once again, and saw nothing but determination and love in his eyes. He really means it. You looked at the other two boys and found the exact same expression. You wanted to respond so bad but the only thing that you were able to say was just a soft what?

“We’ve talked about this quite a long time ago, we just didn’t know what to do,” James stared to explain. “We weren’t sure if you felt the same way and we didn’t want to ruin what we have now. But we’ve fallen, sweetheart. We fell so hard for you, you had us wrapped around your finger from the beginning and you didn’t even know it.” James gave you a small, almost shy smile.

“We knew that it could be weird, especially when we’re already in a relationship, but if you want us, love, we are yours and always have been. Be ours as well?” Remus finished for him. All of them waiting impatiently for your response. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You blinked a few times to wake up, but it wasn’t a dream. Actually, it was a dream comes true. You always wanted to hear them say they want you the same way you wanted them. A huge smile formed on your face

“I am yours, always will be.”

Your newfound relationship was the talk of the school for days to come, but the three Gryffindor golden boys didn’t seem to care. About the rumors, about you being a Slytherin, about anything really. If anything, they were proud that the whole school talked about them. Talked about you being with them. Everything was finally how it should be and none of you couldn’t be happier.

[dead-living-420]

404 - Title Not Found (pt/chpt 4)

Part 2 - Tumblr Part 3 - Tumblr

Ao3

Summary: Sneaking out of a gala should be easy enough. Well it is when you can use your powers.

AN: This took way too long to write. I’ll probably edit any mistakes later, just wanted to finally post this.

And always, this is crack treated seriously. This is just for fun and shits and giggles. Excuse any ooc moments and all of that.

Also never been to a gala or fancy party before so I didn’t think any of this is accurate but it fits with the crack treated seriously part of the fic.

————————————

Jason laughed a bit at Danny’s insistence of it being a joke. “Relax, just messing with you.” This guy had peaked his interest before he even knew he was Masters’ godson. Maybe is was a good thing he came to the gala after all.

“So tell me why the godson of Vlad Masters is living down in Crime Alley.” He looked Danny up and down subtly, he really was more put together than the times he saw him out on patrol and doing laundry. He watched as Danny took a second before answering.

He shrugged, “It’s simple.” Jason took note of how his tone changed when it was just them talking, it was the same tone from the day they talked in the laundry room.

“He’s a fruit loop and I don’t like him.”

Jason held back a laugh. “A fruit loop?”

“Yes. A fruit loop. He’s not as bad as he used to be when I was younger but still.” Jason made a mental note of him saying “not as bad as he used to be”. That caught his attention. “But now I gotta know why one of Bruce Wayne’s sons lives in Crime Alley as well.” Danny teased slightly.

He should’ve expected that he would have to answer too. “Just a falling out with him and the rest of my family but we’re trying to reconnect I guess.” It was a small lie. Not the complete truth and not a complete lie.

“I get that. Had a similar thing with my parents. At least yours is trying.” It was obvious that the last part was more joking than actually anything serious.

This guy was interesting. Jason didn’t like Masters at all, both he and Bruce were suspicious of him but Danny didn’t seem to be anything like him. He was actually kinda funny, nice and personally, Jason thought he was a bit dorky.

-

Talking with Jason was better than avoiding Vlad or any of the other gala guests. Danny always forgot how boring these things got after a bit. At least it seemed that Jason was getting bored too. He would rather talk with him than continue to avoid Vlad.

He wasn’t too surprised that Jason also had family issues, it was kinda obvious with how he and Bruce were silently interacting when Vlad had called him over.

Even with him being interesting to talk to, Danny still wanted to leave the gala. He thought it would’ve been fun to mess with guests but Gothimites were used to weirdness, he could maybe at least explore but people kept trying to talk to him and now he was kinda stuck with Jason cause it was still kinda small talk.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asked without thinking. Did he mean to say it? No but if it got him out of the gala, meant as well try. Jason didn’t look like he wanted to be at the gala any longer either.

There was a minute of silence, it looked like he was weighing his options. “Eh, why not. Anything could be better than this.” Danny smiled, glad that he agreed. Now to figure out where to go but mainly how to sneak away.

It would be easy leaving the room but most entrances and exits outside still had press and paparazzi. He could easily just go invisible and intangible but didn’t trust Jason enough to do so.

Danny had snuck out of galas before but that was when it was just him and way more low profile types of galas. “Lead the way out? Like I said, never been to a gala here before.”

He got a small chuckle and an eye roll at that but it seemed like he was going to lead him out.

-

Danny wasn’t too bad of company. It was certainly better than just staying by Bruce and Jason jumped at the chance of knowing him better and hopefully figuring out why he had that strange sense of familiarity from before they had even talked.

He was glad to have been trained by the bat and that Dick told him about all the unseen exits. “Uh huh.” He said a bit sarcastically before grabbing his hand. “C’mon, follow me.”

He led him through the crowds of people, avoiding anyone who would ask questions. Occasionally he’d look and see Danny following closely behind. He looked like a lost dog trying to keep up. Jason thought it was a little funny.

Soon he dragged him out of where the gala was being held and into a dimly lit hall. Fuck, which way did Dick say to turn from here?

“Where to now?” Danny asked, his tone suggesting that he knew well that Jason hadn’t much of a clue at the moment. Sure enough when he looked at him, he had a small teasing grin. It was slightly annoying but he felt his heart skip a beat.

Fuck.

Jason quickly decided to just push that down and aside. No need to dwell on it even though he knew he would over analyze as soon as he got back to his apartment. Right now though, he just needed to remember which turn he was supposed to take in the hall.

Apparently he dwelled on it a little longer when he saw Danny was no longer behind him but now in front and turning right. “C’mon man. Let’s just go this way.” He heard him call out as he disappeared into the hall on the right.

He sighed and reluctantly followed. It wasn’t the most logical choice but it was the more entertaining one.

“Alright, I’m coming.” Jason followed where he went and caught up. “Just don’t get us lost.”

The only response he got from Danny was a shrug and crooked grin.

This should be fun.

[bloodlinesgirly]

Secrecy~Roman Reigns

As a wwe superstar privacy is rare, but with roman reigns you find keeping secrets easy.

warnings: smut

no use of y/n

not proof read

first fic pls be nice😭

could be a series if anyone is interested

3 years ago you began the journey of becoming a wwe superstar, you’ve made friends, enemies, but most importantly, gained the love of the wwe universe. Being a favorite amongst fans has its perks but the watchful eyes of thousands of people constantly is not easy. Relationships were hard, it’s always felt like there were 3 people in every single one. you, your partner, and the universe. Secrecy has become your specialty. especially when hooking up with non-other than Roman Reigns, from the second you signed with wwe roman decided that you would be his. At first your relationship was strictly him “showing you the ropes”, he made it his priority to show you everything he knew in and out of the ring. training turned into lingering touches at work, eyes wandering longer than they should during sessions, to lunch dates ending with you on his lap in the backseat of his car.

Today was a blur, you had a meeting with the creatives department about a big 6 women tag match at the upcoming ple. there was so much you had to do in so little time, plus you spilt coffee on your phone and brand new dress this morning. stressed and angry was an understatement to your feelings at the moment. everyone filed out of the meeting room as you gathered your things. You jump at the feeling on a hand on your waist, turning around quickly.

“it’s just me” roman breathes a laugh as you sigh in relief. before you get a chance to respond he’s bringing his lips to yours, his grip on your waist tightening.

“how was your day, sweetheart?” He says softly, his hand rubbing your hip soothingly”

“terrible, there’s so much to do and it seems like i’m the only one working at making this match happen.” emotions take over as you speak, tears dwelling in your eyes.

“don’t cry honey, there’s time. everything’s gonna work out” roman wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb before pulling you into his chest.

“i’m just…overwhelmed i guess” you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

“why don’t you come home with me to florida this week? give yourself a break.” you looked up at him shocked, you’d stayed in hotel rooms on the road, on his bus, but never had he invited you to his home. his house was special to him, his sanctuary away from the world. you nod at him, a smile pulling at your lips.

later that night you guys arrived. taking roman’s hand as he helped you out of the car and leaded you inside with your luggage.

“go ahead, check it out. i’m gonna take this upstairs.” he said as he gestured to your suitcase. you nodded and began exploring, wandering hallways and looking at the art that adorned the walls.

“what do you think?” roman asked as appeared behind you suddenly.

“its pretty.” you said with a smile. Roman leaned down capturing your lips. the kiss was sweet at first, quickly becoming heated as your tongues danced together. his hand tapped your thigh, signaling for you to jump. he carefully carried you up the stairs and into his bedroom. you hit the mattress with a thud as he crawled between your legs. his hand reached the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head. his lips attached to you neck, trailing sloppy kisses down to your hips. his fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, you shift a little to help him take them off. Once your shorts were off he pulled his own shirt over his head, you choke back a moan at his abs and tattoos on full display. he smirks a little before licking a stripe up your pussy, your wetness already coating his beard.

“mmm so fucking wet baby.” he growls before diving back in, pulling a moan from your throat as he sucked at your clit.

“you taste so damn good mama” he muttered praises into your heat, that was almost enough to make you finish right then and there. your grip in his hair tightened as you felt your body tense.

“baby im gonna cum, don’t stop” your moans get louder as he 2 of his fingers enter your cunt, he pumped them in and out fast, finally pushing you over the edge.

“there we go sweetheart”

“let it out”

“that’s it” he slowed down his movements, helping you ride out your orgasm before kissing you harshly, letting you taste yourself on his lips. you’re hands fumbled with the band of his sweats before he finally pulled them off. you pulled his nike boxers down his thighs, his dick slapping against his stomach as you did so.

“come ride this dick mama” he directed you as he settled against the head board. you crawled up his legs, straddling him. your heat hovered over his length before sinking yourself onto him completely. you hissed at the same stretch you feel everytime he enters you. it doesn’t seem like you’ll ever get used to it. his hands grip your hips tightly as he starts to rock you back and forth on his cock. moans fall from your lips as you lift yourself slightly before dropping yourself back down on him. his grip on your hips is probably leaving bruises as you ride him. his head was thrown back, eyes were screwed shut, grunts and deeps moans leaving him. you move fast against him, one hand leaving your hips and moving to rub your clit with his thumb.

“fuck baby i need you to cum for me.” he groaned. he bent his legs under you, thrusting up quickly as your slick coated his thighs. the sudden change in position and his thumb frantically moving on your clit triggered your orgasm.

“fuck roman i’m cumming, i’m cumming baby” his name left your lips like it was the only word you could speak. he quickly flipped you on your back, lifting one of your legs up to his shoulder. his hips snapping haphazardly into your pussy and his grunts grew louder.

“m’gonna cum, so fucking close” he growled through his teeth. after a few more thrust he pulled out, quickly stroking his length until he coated your stomach. he collapsed onto you, his elbows falling at each side of your head.

“you’re so damn gorgeous” he breathed out, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you giggle at him, placing your hands on either side of his face and kissing him back. after a few minutes he left to clean himself up and grab a towel for you. after showering and changing into clean pajamas you both climbed into bed. your head rested on his chest as you traced his abs with your fingers.

“why won’t you ask me to be your girlfriend?”

~the end~

[fragmented-king]

-_Vay-Cay_-

Stolas

Naturally, Stolas was the one who came to you with the idea.

He was going through your belongings one day, totally not trying to find and steal one of your soft nice smelling hoodies.

While looking around he found an old letter depicting a snowy mountain, humans skiing down its white slopes with "Winter 2002" written in the corner.

He flipped it around to find a note written by non other then, you.

"I just went skiing with some friends. It was nice, until someone messed up and slammed into me... Now my ankle is sprained... WORTH IT! I got to drink some bomb ass hot cocoa."

Stolas knew about snow, of course. But he never had the chance to experience it for himself, and he wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by.

He carefully puts it back in the envelope before continuing to look around. Next time he sees you he'll have to bring it up.

He finally finds what he came for a few seconds later. Quickly grabbing the hoodie from your bed then sprints out of your room making sure to clear any evidence he was ever there as he leaves.

Later that day he started planning a vacation for you two. Somewhere quiet, somewhere cold, somewhere snowy.

~~~~~

You're sitting on one of the many fancy couches in the palace when Stolas walks in a slight sense of worry emanating from him.

"Ahh there you are. I looked everywhere, I started to get worried after I searched your room and didn't find you or a text... I need to speak with you about something, may I sit?"

You nod and gesture to the spot next to you. He happily takes said spot and gets comfy before turning back to you.

"Dear, I've been wondering. Would you... Like to go on a vacation... With me? Everything is already planned. Transportation, protection, and food of course. All I need from you is a simple yes or no."

You sit there in silence thinking it over while he waits for your answer, he's staring a little bit.

After a moment going over it in you're head you agree, a vacation sounds nice. Even if all you do all day is laze about and receive love from a certain owl it wouldn't hurt.

~~~~~

You step through the portal, the chilly frost bitten air wasting no time trying to freeze you to your core, it fails however because of the twenty something layers Stolas made you wear.

You'll admit it's keeping you warm, but it also makes it hard to see... And walk...

You clumsily follow the owl through the snow covered mountainside eventually coming up to a grand looking cabin.

You turn to Stolas wondering if this is the place only to find him beaming at you, guess it is.

Once inside you take your time getting all the layers off while Stolas brews some hot cocoa.

By the time you're comfortable the sun starts going down. You're about to head to bed before Stolas stops you, asking you to join him for a bit.

You sit down with Stolas on two surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs, sipping hot cocoa and watching the sunset through a large wooden framed window, the high altitude of the mountain making the view more special.

It's cold and blue outside, but warm and orange inside. This really is a nice vacation. You should thank him when you're back home.

~~~~~

Stella

Convincing this avian royal to think of, non the less talk about the possibility of a ‘vacation’, is not an easy task.

It took you weeks of prying, prodding, and sometimes even begging to get Stella to consider it.

As right as it feels to congratulate yourself for getting her to consider it, only half your work is done. You still need to get her to go.

Once you finally convince her though, she goes from acting like she would never enjoy a vacation in a million years to acting like she waited forever for this.

The whiplash from her attitude's complete 180 might as well have broke your neck.

Sunscreen! Stella cannot emphasize this enough.

Your puny, spongy, soft human body will not be tainted by Earth's sun rays. And it's definitely is not just her trying to justify her rubbing your bare back, or down your sides.

She's 100% doesn't have ulterior motives, at all, why would you even say that?!

Though… If you did get sunburned, then she’d still get to rub that Aloe Vera all over you… Hmm…..

No! Your skin is far too pristine to be burned and roasted like that, no matter how tempting it is.

~~~~~

You arrive at the door to Stella's room, barely even knocking on it before it was swung open an ecstatic Stella greeting you from her well furbished room.

"There you are! I've been waiting for ages!"

She had a light blue sundress on. It hugged her curves well and you'd be lying to said you didn't stare a bit. All of that topped off with the largest wide brimmed sunhat you’ve ever seen.

You open your mouth to complement her appearance but are cut off by her dumping three giant, incredibly heavy bags in your arms.

"Let's get going, you wouldn't want to be late for our hotel reservation, now would you? And I've heard wonderful things about their wine."

Before you could so much as get a word in edgewise she starts dragging you off towards portal, all while you're struggling to get used to the weight of the bags.

While you walk she starts talking your ear off listing off all the activities she's planned for you two.

You nearly scoff at that. She's talking like she's the one who organized all of this. It's not like you spent multiple weeks planning and convincing her.

After a moment more struggling with the bags you catch up and step through the portal after her.

You're instantly hit in the face with a waft of heat, sun, and fresh ocean air. Despite the initial shock it's a nice change from the palace that you're oh so used to.

She gestures for you to follow then speed walks off towards the hotel leaving you with her bags, again. You're already tired, and you haven’t even gone to the beach yet.

~~~~~

After the workout that was getting Stella's luggage up to the room you and her finally relax on the beach together.

Not a single other person in sight. You turn to her calm but still a little confused.

"Where is everyone, an island like this should have tons of staff... Wait... Did you rent out this entire island?!"

She, not surprisingly laughed at that.

"Of course I did. I may be the prettiest girl you'll ever see but I'm still a demon. And, I thought that some alone time would be nice. No guards or servants. Just you, and me."

Mid sentence she interlocked her hand with yours while progressively getting closer. You lean forward for a kiss but feel a finger on your lips instead.

"You should know by now that you have to earn that darling. This is our first day here and you expect me to just give you whatever you want right off the bat. This may be a vacation, but that does not mean you get whatever you want instantly."

You frown and look away, it was such a romantic moment before she went and said all that. But, you're willing to work for it. You wouldn't be here sitting with her if you weren't.

~~~~~

Octavia

Good luck getting her to relax. She definitely needs it though, as this owl is stressed. I mean, she's got a lot of worries and she's a teenager, so you've got your work cut out for you.

That being said however, she's easily tricked into relaxing if you say the vacation is for you not her, and it wouldn't be the same without her there. That'll make her change her mind real quick.

Then once there, when she least expects it, you strike. Then before she knows it, she's feeling relaxed. Or at the very least a little better then before.

My professional opinion is to take her somewhere that is completely new to her, like nothing she's seen before if possible.

It'll help her forget her troubles easier. I recommend somewhere quiet with tons of greenery. And animals,

And stick around her, she wants consistency, and reliability. That mixed in with tons of quality time.

Just keep close to her if you can, try to make her have a good time, and most of all try and make it new to her.

Time away from the normal and melancholy is what she needs most.

~~~~~

You walk up to Octavia's door and knock. Nothing. You knock again. Also nothing.

You invite yourself in and see her laying on her bed staring at the ceiling, never a good sign.

You walk over and sit on the bed watching her snap out of it when the bed dips. She turns to look at you not moving much.

"Hey, you doing ok?"

She half sighs half groans then flips over to face you better.

"I'm fine."

You frown at that, 'I'm fine' is not a 'I'm actually ok' kind of answer.

"Rough day?"

"Just my parents, again... UGH WHY CAN'T THEY JUST BE NORMAL! Or at least not make their problems mine."

She flops back onto her back, going back to staring at the ceiling her expression shifting constantly as her mind works through her inner turmoil.

"Alright well. Were going on a vacation tomorrow so please remember to pack."

She groans again and flips over this time facing away from you.

"Do I have to... I mean I've told you a hundred times, I don't need a vacation... I just wanna stay home..."

You frown, again. You just gotta convince her to go. You can do that...

"It isn't for you. I want a vacation. And I want you to come, cause it wouldn't be the same without you."

You two sit in silence for a few moments before she groans extra loud. You're about to ask if she's alright before she suddenly gets up and walks into her closet.

You hear things being moved around and assume she's packing. So you'll leave her be, you've have to pack too anyways.

Before you leave you walk up to the doorframe of the closet, peak your head in just so she can see it.

"I love you."

You hear her mumble something along the lines of 'luv you too' before you turn to leave.

~~~~~

You quickly step out of the limo going around to Octavia's side to open the door for her. She quickly gets out before you can.

You know she doesn't like you doing that, but you're just trying to be courteous. Like usual.

Non the less you walk over and take her hand leading her into the medium to large house with a giant glass dome connected to one end.

"I thought you'd enjoy this place. It's a house built in the early 1900's. It has a giant greenhouse with hundreds if not thousands of plant types in it. Perfect place for a week away from home, I think."

You two go inside while some servants unload your things. You start showing her around, just little interesting things you learned from the homes owner.

You walk around for a while most stuff she doesn't react to, but have one more trick left. You pull out a small, old, metal whistle and blow into it. A moment later the dog of the house come padding in.

He's a large old golden retriever named Spike, who's lived here for years. You met him a few days ago to make sure he was friendly. He was, and you know Octavia's going to love him.

You watch her expression change from overall boredom to confusion then finally to a small smile when Spike walks up to her and rests his head against her side.

She look at him for a moment, then up to you clearly a little confused. You smile at her then walk over and start scratching behind his ear.

"His favorites spots are behind the ears, base of his tail, and his toe beans. Just be careful not to tickle him, he doesn't like that."

She cautiously crouches down and starts lightly scratching him behind an ear. You make sure nothing goes wrong then take a step back letting her enjoy some doggo time.

Yeah. She definitely needed this.

~~~~~

Started by Erratic-Sanguine, Finished by @jester089

Cheers Luv, we both appreciate it.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance flicks on the lights and his soul damn near leaves his body.

“Jesus H. Christ one a one-wheeled motorbike, Pidge,” he gasps, hand pressed to his galloping heart. She doesn’t laugh — Pidge doesn’t laugh often — but Lance has learned to read her, in the year or so they’ve been in space. He recognises the twitch of her mouth, the flash in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your lock code is embarrassingly easy to guess,” she says in lieu of an answer. Lance smiles reflexively at the matter-of-fact, half chiding tone. He pulls finally away from the wall, having caught his breath, and starts rifling through his cabinet.

“Yeah?”

He hears the shuffle of blankets, the muffled hits on a pillow being shoved into a lap. When he glances out of the corner of his eyes, he finds her sat comfortably in the dead centre of his bed, criss-cross-applesauce, nails picking at the threads of his pillowcase and eyes blinking owlishly behind her glasses.

“Yes. Fifty eighth most common four letter password.” She pauses a moment. “Spelling F-A-R-T with numbers is very immature.”

Lance snickers. He’d forgotten what his password spelt, he’s used the same combo so long. “Is that right?”

“Yes. You should come up with something more secure. It was my second guess.”

“What was the first?”

Pidge doesn’t seem to notice his curious look. Her eyes are focused on the items in his hands, watching diligently as he sits on the floor next to a dish of water, squeezing some soap into his hands and rubbing it all over his bare legs. Her head is tilted with a similar look of inquiry.

“Your birthday. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Lance removes the cap from his razor and starts to carefully drag it down his calfs, rinsing it every two strokes in the water. Pidge watches with rapt attention.

Weirdo, Lance thinks, fondly and hypocritically.

It doesn’t take long for the questions to start firing off.

“What’s the point of shaving your legs?”

“Gets rid of the hair.”

“Why do you want to get rid of the hair?”

Lance takes a moment to gather his thoughts, answering truthfully. “Lots of reasons. Not all of them I’m proud of. I started mostly ‘cause Veronica did it and I used to do everything she did.” He pauses. A sad smile pulls on his lips, and he swallows around the comfortingly familiar lump in his throat. “Well. ‘Used to’. If she was here I’d probably still be puttering around after her.” He finds Pidge’s eyes and smiles at her, winking. “Older siblings are easy to hang off of, huh?”

Her mouth twitches. She breaks eye contact, resting her chin on her knees and moving the pillow under her legs. “No. Older siblings are annoying. And ridiculous. I once followed Matt around all day and wrote down every single time he said ‘ow’. He said in on average twenty-three times an hour.” She meets his eyes again, mouth pinched and eyebrows raised. “Your average is twenty-four.”

“I see.”

“You should tie your shoes.”

“Nah.” He taps the razor on the side of the dish, gently sliding it to the other side of him and switching his razor to his left hand. “Anyways. When I was your age I mostly did it ‘cause Ronnie did it. Helped with swimming, too. But as I got older…” He frowns. “As I got older, I started feeling like I had to, I guess. Like I was ugly if I didn’t.”

A pinprick of pain makes his hand still, lifting the blade from around his ankle. A tiny drop of blood swells at the base of it. He sets the razor down, quickly grabbing a towel and dabbing at the nick. Ankle wounds always bleed so much — it doesn’t even hurt anymore, but he can’t pull the towel away or he’ll stain the floor.

“…Do you feel that way now?”

Lance doesn’t answer for a long moment. He hears Pidge fidget, clicking her nails together. The blood finally slows enough for him to pull away the towel, and he resumes shaving the last half of his leg — much more slowly, this time.

“Not exactly,” he says carefully. “I recognize why I feel that way. I know where that pressure comes from, why it’s harmful. But it’s still…there. I still catch myself thinking cruel things; I have to spend a few minutes talking myself out of them. I tried stopping for about a year. I didn’t like it.”

He finally finishes swiping up the last line of soap, rinsing off his razor and then gently running a cold, wet cloth over his legs to get rid of any lingering suds.

“Do you think you’ll try to stop again?”

“Hm. I don’t think so. I like the feeling of smooth skin more than hairy skin, I’ve found. It’s nice on fresh sheets, plus sometimes hair tickles me and makes me jumpy. Plus, it’s easier to moisturize.”

“Ohhh,” Pidge says, and when Lance looks up there’s a real look of understanding on her face — not the practiced one she puts on when she doesn’t actually get something but doesn’t want to look dumb. “Like — it’s the same as why you don’t like jeans and socks.”

Lance smiles. “Exactly. I’d walk around in nothing but shorts and a big t-shirt, if I had the choice.” Legs clean and clean-shaven, he picks up his tube of lotion and starts dabbing dollops all over the skin. “That’s all I ever wore back home.”

“Arizona is freezing half the time!”

“Cuba,” Lance reminds her.

“Oh yeah,” she says again. “But what about when it rained?”

Lance shrugs. “Better to wear flip flops and get wet feet than wet socks. Wet socks are the worst.”

“Yeah.” She shudders. “Like prickly sweaters.”

He hums. The lotion smells like juniberries, which kind of smells like pineapple and hibiscus mixed with a strange, almost spicy scent. Not quite home, but close enough to be nice.

He doesn’t ask Pidge why she broke into his room while he was in the showers and sat in the dark waiting for him to get back. The same way he doesn’t press when she follows him down the halls, disappearing behind corners when he turns to look, or sits by his feet during movie night. He lets her be prickly with affection and learns to hear the undercurrent in her constant comments and rambles, learns to read her questions about every thing he does as curious rather than judgemental.

She would ice him out for weeks if he said it out loud, but there was this stray cat that lived near his house, when he was young. It hissed and spit and clawed if you came halfway near it; Mamá had forbidden him from trying in case it was sick. But he used to leave out water for it at night and sometimes even sneak Abuelo’s heating pad, and every once in a while it would let Lance sit near it without clawing him. Once it even attacked one of the older kids who used to chase him after school.

It’s no coincidence that Pidge always happens to be in the same room as him 90% of the time. Or that she can guess his passcode easily.

“Hey, Pidgeon,” he says, unwrapping the towel from his hair and starting to work in the leave in conditioner. “The lockcode on my snack drawer is the same as the room code. Just so you know.”

She stares at him for several minutes.

Her mouth twitches.

“I could have figured that out myself.”

“I know.”

“You’re weird.”

He smiles. “You too, nerd.”

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

ezra + bath oil + titties

GO

You absolute menace ily hahaha. Initially I was just going to do a short lil drabble that was a continuation of our disgusting musings about this man, but then I said why not make this into an entire feature in honor of @swiftiscruff's Friendship Exchange? You know, give our boy Ezra some real time to shine, and all in the name of celebrating friendships formed over that little verbose slut?

So, here is my Ezra oil shower titty fic dedicated to the lovely Kelli in celebration of the Friendship Exchange.

𝗔𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗵 𝗶𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂

PAIRING(s): Ezra x fem!reader RATING: explicit material | 18+ WORD COUNT: 3k CONTENT: AU where Cee doesn't exist sorry lmao, established relationship, titty fixation, edible/food safe bathing oils, Ezra comes with his own warning, egalitarian assplay, cumplay, fabric washcloth used as gripping agent

Your nose for the most part had become blind to Ezra’s signature, tangy musk that edged into a ripe stench on hotter days. Even though you’d settled into the outskirts of a modest trading town and begun taking on the doldrums of keeping house, Ezra hadn’t fallen from his habit of going a little too long in between bath days. In times past he would go unshowered due to lack of amenities – the worlds you’d traveled and harvested from had hardly offered much in the way of hygienic routine – but now there was no such obstacle. He could bathe any time he wished and take as long as he pleased. You had your own home together now, one you were building upon each and every day, but the transient, unpredictable life that had become so ingrained into him was hard to shake. The notion of permanence was fleeting no matter how many days passed under your roof.

You, on the other hand, had become part fish since putting down roots here. There was a bathtub and a separate shower, and you craved the warm pool of water to soak in after a long day. Ezra liked to give you grief for wasting such a precious resource as water even though this planet was abundant in it. And yet, his admonishing never kept him from slipping into the wash room to ogle your bare form in the bath. You just wish every now and then he’d partake himself.

“The suns in all their unwavering glory has me feeling wrung of every bit of moisture,” he huffs as he fills a glass with something to wet his tongue and flood his scratchy, dry throat. “It’s good fortune that we needn’t adorn ourselves in protective suits here. I can only imagine the sort of foul fog that would cling to me then.”

You’re well aware of the second sun’s habit of becoming unbearable in these few weeks that your now home planet rotates closer to it. Your skin is sticky and wet with exertion, but at least all the growth pods you and Ezra have worked so tirelessly to establish are flourishing. They needed as much extra attention as any human on this planet did during these hotter spells. Soon enough you will forget all about the vehement heat when you and Ezra take your yields to the market during The Great Exchange and come home with lighter wagons and heavier pockets.

You accept the glass from Ezra and drink down whatever he’d poured. The cool creep of it down your throat already feels one step closer to equilibrium. “I guess we should wash up before we get the entire house dirty,” you reason.

“Hm, I suppose we should.”

You trod upstairs to the bathroom and bite back a scream when you see Ezra procure one entirely too small washcloth from the cabinet.

“You’re only washing at the sink?” you ask in what you pray isn’t a too panicked timbre.

“You don’t think the sink is robust enough to address my filth?”

You scrunch your nose, and that’s all the answer he needs. He chuckles a little and sets the singular washcloth aside. It already has smudges of who knows what just from him handling it.

“Tell me what you propose, my Little Gem.” He has an easy smile and those dangerous, glittery eyes fixed onto you.

“I mean, if you’re too tired I could, you know, I wouldn’t mind getting you washed up.” You shrug as though it’s enough to offset your way too eager proposition.

“You believe my own efforts are inferior?” he teases. “My Little Gem needs to take matters into her own hands and not rely on the fates?”

“Well, you’re always talking about wasting water. Wouldn’t it be saving water if we showered together?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You would forgo your hallowed soak just to bathe with me, Little Gem?”

“I’m way too gross to just get into a bath. It’d just be sitting in a pool of my own funk. This level of gross calls for a full on shower, I think.”

“And you’ll tend to me in there?” he purrs as he steps closer to you and curves his hands over your hips. The pungent tang of his body makes your nose scrunch again.

“Much to tend to, it seems,” he remarks in response to your overt repulsion.

You need to take Ezra up on his noncommittal commitment of getting into the shower with you before he changes his mind. You quickly concoct a plan to hold his attention and agreeability in the small shower. You grab the soaking oil you drizzle into your baths on especially achy days and prop it on the shower ledge. You start peeling off grimy, damp layers of clothing and nod to Ezra, who begins doing the same.

You cross the room to where you stow your accessories and extras and grab a few items to pin your hair back. The last thing you need is something getting in the way of you giving him a thorough scrub down. Ezra saunters after you like a cat on the prowl, eyes roaming greedily up and down. Before he can derail the entire enterprise, you slink into the shower and start the water.

The initially cool spray is a contrary sensation to the heat emanating from your skin, but it quickly warms to a soothing slip. The stall darkens as he steps inside, broad shoulders blocking out the light struggling to filter in through the expanse of him. His frame was a thickened amalgamation of corded musculature padded in the softened flesh of a satiating supper every evening. The work here kept him lean for the most part, but you much preferred this iteration of him – all brawn and lithe but with the markers of an untroubled life.

“It seems all displeasure with my hygiene is forgotten once I’m naked as the day I was born,” he murmurs low and self-satisfied.

You roll your eyes but know he’s correct. A lover as competent and enthusiastic as Ezra meant overlooking other personal drawbacks wasn’t too difficult. “I’m sizing up my work,” you protest.

“And what do you make of its sizing?” he purrs with a gentle roll of his hips against you.

You knew this was where things would go almost immediately, and yet you still had the nerve to be caught off guard. “Ezra,” you grit out. You guide him under the stream and tell him to stay put while you grab the stack of washcloths you’ll need.

Upon your return you note the ashen brown water falling from him and circling the drain. “I must admit–” he says through the water rushing over him. Your eyes catch the flex of his biceps as he raises his arms up to work the water through his hair and scalp. “–There is something quite divine about the ritual. All sins washed away. A clean slate. A pure soul ready to be defiled once again. Isn’t that right, Little Gem?”

“What?” you mumble absentmindedly, too preoccupied on ogling the trail of water snaking down his torso and into the thicket of brown coarse hairs below his waist.

He only grins with a devious slant to his mouth and pulls you under the spray with him. His hands wander across your body in a lazy exploration. The only thing keeping you from abandoning your task altogether and just letting him take you right there in the shower is the persistent odor still clinging to him, now taking on a damp quality that only heightens the earthy grub and grit components within.

“Take a seat on the ledge, Ezra.”

He gropes the curve of your ass and presses a few kisses to the column of your neck before complying. “I’m at your disposal.” He spreads his arms open, inviting the work and focus of your hands on him.

You avoid looking at his half hard cock bobbing gently with every movement and soap up the first cloth. You try to avoid the snare of his gaze as you begin scrubbing his face, but he catches you with it as you lather through his beard. The corner of his mouth pulls up, an instant reassurance that he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

His face is a brighter, pinker vision once you rinse it, and it solidifies your resolve to scrub every inch of this man while he’s indulging your whim. His hands roam up and down your legs as you scratch and scour his hair. The fragrance of the soap combined with the purged dirt fills the space. You move to your hands and knees and start scrubbing from toe to knee then thigh to groin. He surprisingly doesn’t make too much of a fuss, which is good considering it takes three separate washcloths to get that section entirely cleaned.

“Surely I’ve indulged your caretaking long enough to have earned a different kind of corporeal attention?” He leans forward and noses at your neck and earlobe, and your body shivers despite the warm rush of water trailing down your back.

“Grab that bottle to your left,” you order as you start scrubbing down his torso. Your breath catches when your wrist bumps into his fully hardened, weeping cock, and you catch the curve of a smirk playing on his mouth. He holds up the unlabeled bottle and gives it a questioning shake. 

“An aphrodisiac?” His eyebrow cocks in devilish curiosity.

“Bath oil,” you snort. “You can, um, put some on me while I’m working on you. You know, just so it has time to soak in before I wash up, too. If you don’t mind.”

His eyes narrow and pull the edge of his mouth upward. He sees right through you, just like he always does. “Here I was thinking my purest Little Gem wouldn’t resort to such lowly deceit and bribery.” He pops the cap of the bath oil open and drizzles a moderate amount into his hand before setting the bottle aside again. He’s clearly amused with the ruse you’ve concocted, but unfettered exploration of your body is apparently a bribe he’s willing to accept.

“Resume your venture to free me from all the remnants of my labors,” he obliges.

“You know, you could just say ‘keep scrubbing me because I know I still smell’, Ez.”

He grins and raises his hands until they hover above your chest, little trickling lines of oil falling onto the slope of your breasts and dripping down slowly. You push your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep yourself grounded. If Ezra decided to start toying with you, you didn’t stand a chance at resisting his efforts.

You slather his arms from wrist to shoulder and work your way to his torso. Meanwhile he grazes a slick finger against your nipples in a ghost of a touch that has you subconsciously chasing his hand. You finish underneath each of his armpits, and, just when he’s behaved himself long enough to catch you off guard, he flicks one of your nipples hard with the edge of a fingernail. A shaky gasp of sharp pleasure flies from your throat quickly followed by a second one when he does it to the other side.

“See to my hindparts, won’t you?” he solicits with a deceptively innocent expression.

You clench your teeth together and take a step forward so you can reach over his shoulders and wash his back. He dips his head and takes as much of your breast into his mouth as he can and suctions with as much strength as he can exert. You yelp and attempt to release the clutch of his mouth from your sensitive bud, but he only sucks harder with a satisfied groan. His arms circle around each of your legs and cause you to lose your footing, which he uses as a distraction to switch sides.

Little pinpricks of purple have cropped up in a bloom of red from where he already sucked, and the force of his pull now promises no different for the other side. He loved to do this to you – get you off kilter, overstimulated, and seeking out more, often all at once. Your breaths come out whiny as he latches and pulls on your nipples and tissue.

“Ez,” you gasp. “I’m–I have to–to finish.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls one cheek aside so that he can deftly push a thick fingertip into your puckering rim. It glides in with no resistance, and you almost think the oil wasn’t even necessary with how much you ached for him to fill you there. He pulls away just enough to disorient you with his intoxicating diction.

“Perhaps before our wash is complete, you’ll be beseeching me just to feel the breadth of me cleaving you apart,” he husks. “Nearly weeping for me to bury my cock in this hole just as you did only two nights ago.”

 “It feels good,” you mewl weakly. 

He hums low and gravelly in agreement as he resumes his ministrations on your breasts. The tip of his finger plunges shallow, a slow in and out, and you know it’s just to tease you for what you won’t get until you are begging him for it. You think that he must revel in the sway he has over you when he so fervently succumbs to you. There’s something so raw and vulnerable in the way he cannot deny his devotion and attachment to you, and so he must have some part of you in the same way as to not feel entirely powerless.

You’re panting despite exerting very little energy at the moment. “I-I really need to finish washing you u—”

He pops off with a loud smack and abruptly stands. He crowds you against the corner and props a foot up on the ledge, caging you in with his cock right at your eye level. Your hands rush with a washcloth and soap, now more greedy to feel him than cleanse him. You lather his entire groin area and resist the urge to lick up the beads of precum dribbling from his ruddy tip. Your eyes keep traveling up to meet his where he watches down on you with an almost omnipotent, divine consideration.

The last washcloth falls to the shower floor, and Ezra slowly walks backward into the water to rinse himself. It’s probably just a trick of the mind, but you swear he appears less hazy than usual with all the grime cleared from him. Your mouth is slack as you watch from your hands and knees on the shower floor, impossibly cramped into the corner of the small space. He smiles down at you. You know how much he loves seeing you on your knees in front of him.

Without a word, he moves the shower head to the side so that it pelts against the tile instead of spraying down on you both before turning around and hitching his other leg up on the ledge. He braces himself on the wall and the wobbly metal and glass door on the other side.

“Reap the benefits of your work, Little Gem,” he says over his shoulder.

You frantically douse your hand with a generous dab of the bath oil and walk on your knees until your mouth is flush against the cleft of his ass. A strangled whimper ekes out of him as you reach a hand between his legs and stroke his neglected cock with the slippery pull of the oil. You entrench your face into him until your flicking tongue delves into his asshole. You massage and prod into it, eyes rolling back when you feel how it clenches in delight at your motions.

Ezra turns again to face you now with what can only be described as a wild, hungry look in his eye. He takes the neatly stacked pile of used washcloths and tosses them onto the floor. You have no time to question his motives because he’s grabbing the bottle of oil and squeezing globs of it onto your breasts, barely returning the bottle to its place on the shelf before he’s massaging them and awkwardly shoving his cock between them and rutting against their pillowy, fleshy tightness.

“Shit,” he hisses. “That ass. That asshole of yours. These tits.” He sounds pained just trying to speak. His face screws up as he fucks between them, moaning appreciatively when you use your hands to press them closer together for him to fuck.

“You like my tits?” you ask a little breathlessly.

He makes a noise of great effort, eyes pinching shut at your goading question. He frees his cock and takes the flat of his hand to slap against your peaked buds. You cry out in pleasure at the sharp, blissful sting. “Bet I could make you come for me just like this. Couldn’t I, Little Gem?” he grits.

“Y-Yes,” you moan.

He makes some unhinged noise and slaps against your breasts in quick succession, barking out an order for you to touch yourself, and teeth glinting in the light with a manic grin as you climax. He starts fisting his length over your face, breaths coming fast and heavy.

“Open wide now,” he pants as he tugs his cock faster. The tip of it knocks against your lip, and you open wider with your tongue jutting flat and spread out for him to cover.

“Just like that Little Gem,” he rasps. “Hold it open and drink me.”

A few short strokes is all it takes before he’s moaning and erupting all over your face and mouth, the hot, thick bands of his spend sticking to your skin wherever they land. He doesn’t stop jerking himself until every last drop is spent. When he’s finally done, he smears his softening cock against your face, collecting his cum in sloppy swipes.

“Now look who is soiled, Little Gem,” he hums. “Clean up the mess you’ve made.” He watches you with half-lidded eyes and a heaving chest. “Wouldn’t want to leave things filthy, would you?”

You oblige and take him into your mouth, sucking and licking until every trace of his spend has been swallowed.

[strayed-quokka]

lifeblood || ji changmin

» summary: your blood was sweet, you were sweet, and changmin is addicted.

» pairing: ji changmin x female reader

» rating: NC-17 minors do not interact 

» genre: supernatural, just porn tbh, smut, vampires

» warnings: oral (f recieving), fingering, i guess blood play (according to google it counts), changmin thinks your blood is sweet (yes we went there), biting, scratching, bruising, changmin can be scary in theory but also takes care of you, rough(ish) sex, aftercare, big dick changmin because that is my brand, one use of good girl, sweet names, creampie, brief loss of conciousness if you really look, implied feelings if you squint, oh and he’s pretty fucking strong

» words: 3,296

» a/n: LISTEN I have no excuse, this is filth, it is a mess, roar changmin is to blame. And I wanna just warn that if you have any issues with blood drinking just don’t read it I warned you now PFFF. Like… it’s not for everyone and I get it. But don’t come at me for it if you proceed anyway cause changmin is a vampire and acts accordingly so yeah that is all thank q. 

The stories you’d been told when you were younger should’ve maybe deterred you from letting the night time bleed into your window, casting dark shadows along with the moon that illuminated through the sheer curtains. You were always told to be vary, to be afraid of the creatures that roamed in the dark. 

The ones that watched you when you’d turn around, the ones who’s bright yellow eyes were a threat, and even more so when they illuminated red. 

So why you were letting one spread your bare legs now was beyond you.

Changmin had been an intriguing mystery to you since you met. He seemed sweet, with dimples that charmed you and eyes that seemed so inviting, but when that smile dropped and he became hungry, everything changed. 

He could be scary, downright terrifying even, if he wanted to be. His threats that he made were real, always, and his anger was not easy to contain if he released it. Though despite all that, he possessed a hold on you so tight that every time he asked to be invited into your house, you said yes.

It was your own fault. When you’d first met, it was at a gas station and you’d managed to cut your finger somehow on the clip you press down to fill up your car's gas, and almost within seconds, Changmin was behind you. 

You should be careful.

He was warning you. Told you that your blood smelled so sweet, it may attract attention from people that would hurt you to get a taste. By the time you’d agreed to let him keep you company to protect you, it was already too late to realise that there was no way he could smell it. 

Unless he was one too. 

Once you did realise, he simply looked down at you and grinned, almost wicked, as if he knew he was caught but didn’t have any shame. Though despite all that, despite his hunger for you in particular, he had never made you feel like you needed to run away. 

And maybe that’s why you were foolish enough to let him stay around, to lick off the wound on your thumb that night and to come around every now and then to try it again. It was an addicting thrill, one that nearly made you feel high, to risk your life in his hands more and more every time. 

You were covered in healing puncture wounds from his fangs at various stages, hidden mostly though he’d been particularly careless the other day on your neck, bitten too high and now you were stuck in sweaters far too warm for the weather. He’d check on it occasionally, made sure none of your wounds ever got infected. You’d agreed for him to feed off you, but he had made it clear that he’d always check that you were healing as a compromise to you letting him. 

The way he always checked on you was one of the reasons that you were able to calm down, to tell your body that you were safe, despite the sharp pain you’d feel, followed by that same thrilling high. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he’s looking down at you, his chest bare, your ankles over his shoulders as he caresses your legs. You were left in your lace underwear that you’d learned he liked in particular and a tight cropped shirt that was doing nothing to hide your erect nipples. 

“Tell me more,” you demand, and Changmin may be annoyed by your insistent attitude if it weren’t for how you were begging the words out with light breaths. He grins instead, turns to the side to kiss your leg before retracting his fangs, letting the point that’s sharper than a blade just scratch the surface of your skin. 

It almost tickles, making you squirm. 

“Hmmm, I could,” he starts, then leans down to hover over your chest, staring straight into your eyes with ones that are a sharp yellow, “or I could show you?”

You say yes before he’s barely finished speaking, and he knows he has you right where he wants you as he goes to take your shirt off, leaving you in just your panties, ones that are clinging to you with the dampness between your legs.

He’s rather harsh in spreading your legs apart, pushing your left thigh to the side and pressing it into the mattress. The flimsy fabric slips between your folds, revealing part of your drenched cunt to his hungry eyes and you almost don’t notice how quickly he’s sunken down to lie with his head near your thigh, arms under your upper thigh before they circle up to grip your waist. 

“Baby,” it’s almost condescending, the tone he uses to speak to you, but there’s something about the draw of his voice that has any ability to bite back, fall to the back of your throat, “I’ve barely touched you.”

You know what he’s talking about. You’re so aroused by his mere presence, that the barely there touches are enough to make you wet. He could do the bare minimum and it would likely still turn you on. Changmin was just… different. Hard to explain, but he was beautiful and calculating, and he’d somehow managed to figure you out in such a short span of time that he knew exactly what to do and how to do it. 

“Touch me then,” it’s the only real demand you manage to make, but even then it sounds weak, strained in your throat though he seems to take to the request. You feel the way he hooks two of his fingers by the lace covering your modesty (barely), pushing the fabric to one side before his tongue lays flat between your folds. 

The sudden feel of him between your legs has you jolt upwards in surprise, but it makes him eager to keep going. He doesn’t need to be slow with you, can be, but doesn’t have to, and that’s one thing he really likes about you. 

“Cute,” he chuckles, and you know he’s looking at you like you’re easily breakable, and honestly, with him you may as well be. You’d always considered your control to be excellent and your reserve strong, but he had you weak. It was near pathetic.

He lays a kiss right over your clit before lightly releasing a breath over the bundle of nerves. The cool sensation makes you whimper, and he gives you no warning when he grabs your hips tighter with his hands, forcing your body up just slightly off your mattress, before his tongue pushes inside you. 

“Fuck, Min!” he doesn’t answer, too wrapped up in you, the way you taste and how your body responds to his mouth, to even begin to speak back. Your voice has gone from quiet to a pathetic mess of moans and soft pants, the occasional call of his name that only makes him go faster. 

You feel one of his hands slip away from your waist, and you’re about to complain about how cold the bone of your hip feels without his touch, but the thought is erased when his middle finger replaces his tongue inside you, his mouth moving back up between your drenched folds to twirl a pattern around your clit again just as he curls his finger. 

You’re going insane. 

“Y-yes… more. P-please,” and Changmin won’t deny you when you look this pretty under him, but he also has his own needs to take care of, and the heightened scent of you and your arousal has him desperately needing to taste. 

“I- I want… need to taste you,” and it’s when you connect with his eyes that you know he means something else. 

That’s another thing about Changmin. No matter how strong his urges are, he’s never once failed to ask you first if it’s okay. 

Though it would be difficult at this point to find an instance where you’d deny him the taste of you. 

You feel your orgasm build, your head rolling back as soon as you tell him yes, that he can do what he wants, and he quickens his pace to push you right over the edge. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, not that he could anyway when his mouth is preoccupied, but he does find the time to slip another two fingers inside you and you know you’re about to come undone. Changmin knows it too, feels it in how you tighten around his fingers and how your thighs press into the side of his head like you could crush him. 

Honestly, Changmin finds you so incredibly sexy when you lose your mind. 

It’s when you’re just mere seconds away from orgasm that he quickly replaces his tongue with his other free hand, his thumb over your clit instead, and it might’ve delayed your orgasm, made you mewl and plead and ask why, but that never comes. 

The sharp pain of his fangs in your thigh mixed in with the pleasure of his fingers brings you over the edge completely, arching off the bed and screaming his name so loud that you’re relieved you live alone. You nearly want to cry from how good it feels, barely comprehending the sensation of him draining you off the sweet crimson liquid that keeps you alive, his fingers still curled inside you as you ride out your orgasm. 

He groans, and it’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. Changmin overall, is incredibly sexy, and he loves to remind you like this. You grip his hair with the strength you have left, chest moving rapidly as you tug, trying to pull him away from your thigh. 

Changmin complies. Even if his instincts tell him he doesn’t want to, that he could drain you completely and wants to, he also knows that when you pull him away, he’s going to obey. 

It’s the only thing Changmin lets you control, mostly because he knows you do it when it’s too much, when it either hurts past pleasure (though that’s exceedingly rare), or you’re becoming dazed and lightheaded to the point of it being dangerous. That’s why he listens, even if his entire being tells him not to.

His eyes are stained red now, dark and haunting, like they are every time he consumes you, and you swear his gaze is so intense that it demands your body to move regardless of your own mind. You’ve turned around on the bed before he even asks, though he’s the one to forcibly push your knees further apart, your ass up while your face rests against the pillows. 

“You’re eager, god,” you nod desperately, though you’re not sure he even notices, “you want me to fuck you like this?” 

You try to speak. You really, honestly try, but no sound comes out. Not until you feel a sharp slap to your ass that nearly pushes your whole body forward, “Yes! Please, y-yes.”

“Good girl,” you can feel him press his body against you, his cock bare against your folds and it makes you mewl, pushing against him. He has the nerve to laugh at you, leaning down so his chest hovers over your back as he whispers in your ear, “does your leg hurt?”

You’d honestly been so out of it that you’d forgotten, though this serves as a reminder of the sting on your left upper thigh. It does hurt, but not nearly enough for you to care. 

“I’m okay,” and you say it with the most conviction, your heart warming just enough that it might scare you to what the implications of your feelings may mean. He doesn’t ask for anything else, though he’s always cautious anyway, in case anything shifts in your tone that implies that you’re not okay. 

Changmin may have fucked you quite a number of times by now, and whilst you may have gotten used to his presence in the bedroom, it somehow still surprised you when his cock would bury itself inside you. Because no matter how often you found yourself like this, you were still naive enough to believe that he must be fully inside you when he’d really only come a little over halfway. 

And every time, without fail, the realisation that he was going deeper made you whimper his name in a way that sounded like a musical note to his ears. It was beautiful, to see you so out of it when he’d barely done anything that required effort. 

He stays like this for a while, cock inside you fully while your walls constrict around him, making him hiss as he’s gripping your waist with his fingers, kneading the flesh so hard it may definitely bruise as he steadies you, and you want to tell him to move, that you need him to.

Though he knows. He knows to replace his inaction with too much, because it sends you into overdrive and he loves to see you fall apart like this. Changmin is fast, unnaturally so which makes sense given who he is, but it’s the way in which he slams his hips into you that would make you collapse if he wasn’t keeping you up. 

“Oh fuck! F-fuck… M-Minnie. Harder!” 

“Think you can… can take that?” 

He loves to tease you, push you to limits that a human shouldn’t be pushed too, but you want it and he won’t deny you. 

“Y-yes. Please, Min,” his one arm goes around your chest, lifting you up against his own, your back arched while he quickens his pace, and he’s so aggressive that it may bruise both his own hips and your ass as a result, but you don’t care. 

“Wish you could s-see what you look like,” he’s trembling, nibbling on your ear before he’s gently biting into your shoulder, just sharp enough to feel but not enough to cause injury, something which takes a level of self control that he’s spent decades trying to master. You grip the arm he has around your chest with your fingers, clawing at his forearm and flesh to hold onto just as he brings his free hand to your clit, “beautiful.”

Changmin is a master at making you fall apart. The way he slams into you is animalistic, brutal even, in ways you always wished to experience when past partners just didn’t do enough, and it’s the way he shows care to you whilst treating you like a ragdoll that ultimately makes you lose your mind. 

“Fuck-” he groans, forehead falling to your shoulder, “you’re clenching.”

You know what that means. You know that aside from you being so close to an orgasm, it means that he’s going crazy from how your walls feel constricting around his cock and that he wants you to come. 

“B-bite me. P-please C-Changmin,” he doesn’t see sense anymore when you ask like that. He releases a deep growl, near possessive of you, his teeth digging into the flesh between where your neck meets your shoulder, the arm that was around your chest further up by your shoulder blades now as the other wraps around your stomach, firmly gripping you in place as he slams his cock into you one more time, your orgasm so intense that you swear you nearly see absolute darkness for just a second when you reopen your eyes. 

You cry out his name, screaming and trembling as he’s firm in keeping you unmoving which only makes it more intense, and he groans, licking the wound on your neck as you feel his cum fill you up, milking him dry as your walls clench repeatedly to grip him. 

He’s about to pull out but your hips follow his movements, keeping him close to you and you can practically feel him smirk against your neck. 

“Baby, we can’t stay like this,” but you don’t want to listen to him even if he’s right. Even when you feel him try to lick the crimson red from your skin by your neck to clean you up because you’re being stubborn and won’t let him help you properly, even then, you don’t want to move. 

However, Changmin is just as stubborn as you. That, and he has supernatural strength, able to overpower you in seconds and so he does, throwing you around and up onto his waist as he stands on the bed, your legs around his hips as you feel his cum slowly move down between your legs and to your ass, his hands gripping your flesh while he looks up at you. 

There’s something so inherently sexy about the way he can get up after an orgasm and throw you onto his waist to walk you into the bathroom, and something far more sexy about being met with the state you’re in because of him. He ruins you beautifully, litters your skin with beautiful colour that also stains his soft lips and white teeth. 

“I’m fineeeee,” but it sounds pathetic, and it’s near embarrassing how your body arches to him spreading your legs again, making him laugh at you. 

“I need to clean them,” he says, stubborn as he gently slaps your hand away that’s reaching out to touch him, “behave.”

As soon as the damp warm cloth touches your wounded thigh is when you realise that it actually hurts quite a bit more than you’d noticed, making you hiss slightly at the stinging as he tries to gently treat your skin. His eyes are hungry when he does, and you know that deep down, he’s fighting with himself to taste you again. 

“Minnie?” 

“Hmm?” 

Though you aren’t sure why you called his name, what you’re trying to get his attention for, so you just watch him fondly with eyes that give away far more than you’re ready to admit to him or even yourself. 

“You’re pretty.”

He laughs again, moving up to clean your neck and you let him without any hesitation, completely trusting him despite his instincts. 

“You’re so cute,” it makes you blush, dazed from orgasm and happy enough that he warms you with words that seem so mundane and basic, yet they’re not, “I’m gonna disinfect it but… do you wanna shower first?”

“Yes please,” your hands reach for him again, and this time he takes them into his, drawing circles with his thumbs over your knuckles, “with you?”

“If you behave,” you gasp, laughing and feigning shock though you nod nevertheless as he brings you off the counter and to your shower, stumbling slightly as you do, “careful.”

“I don’t like how you still function. It’s not fair,” you pout, letting him follow you with a hand reached out around your back just in case you fall. 

“Darling, you know you can’t compare us like that,” and he’s right, of course. He has advantages, unfair ones, but it still makes you pout. 

“Do I not satisfy you, hmm?” it’s a joke, both of you know it, but Changmin has turned you around and pressed you against the tiled wall in less than a second. His eyes are fading from their blood red to an orange hue, an indication that they’re going back to their natural state of yellow. 

“Answer your own question, I dare you to.” 

It’s the way his eyes hunger for you again, how they want you, always, and you know it was stupid to even joke, because the very answer is one thing you’ve always known since you met. 

Ji Changmin wants you the way one wants a drug when they’re addicted. He’s insatiable and he hungers for you, because you’re the only one who satisfies him. 

You're the only one that tastes so sweet.

changmin is the reason i have no sanity left and i hope it showed PFFF

I'll try to update quite soon cause I have some extra time but deciding on who to write is hard when I've been on my knees for all of them lately 🛐

tbz masterlist

[leclerced]

something about you wanting Max to be your first time absolutely ruins him. the fact that you trust him enough to be this vulnerable with him?? the fact that you want him to take your innocence? it’s all so hot to him. the fact that nobody else has been able to have your body in this way? he swears that the hottest thing for him is how shy you seem in the pretty set of lingerie that you bought exactly for this situation. he wants to rip it off you, even if the white lace looks so fucking good on you

he knows that you spent money on the set but he would much rather see and touch what’s lying underneath

-

🩰

too add on to what i said earlier!! max is going to spend so much time just with gentle foreplay, because he wants this to be special for you. he wants your first time to be special, and he wants to make it something you’ll never regret doing. he wants this to be all about you, and he’s going to praise you so much during the entire thing. he’s going to take it slow as well, checking that you are comfortable, having you ask when you want to initiate the actual sex, things like that just prove that he wants this entire night to be all about you! -🩰

copied ur second asks here so i can answer them together 🫶🏻 read more for length.

ok this has been sitting in drafts bc i started an oscar virginity series but i have an idea where reader and max almost hook up after meeting at a club but then she tells him he's a virgin and he's like, "sorry but i am not gonna take your virginity like this, you'll probably regret it. you should do it with someone you know and trust."

he asks why she tried doing it in a one night stand and she tells him she just wanted to get it over with and that seemed easy. she hadn't even planned on telling him, or whoever, because she wouldn't see them again. he asks why she picked him and she tells him he was the first guy who approached that didn't gross her out, and he's like, "way to make a guy feel special." but she meant it in a good way. any other guy, she pictured having sex with and immediately was icked. she saw max, and she wanted to have him in her mouth. when she explains that, he certainly feels special.

queue reader and max hanging out and getting to know each other bc she is adamant that she wants to sleep with him, so if he thinks it should be with someone she knows and trusts, it just makes sense that they do just that. they wouldn't get to see each other often bc of his racing schedule, and she'd tease him that she's going to find a local guy to take her virginity because he's taking too long. he'd be internally panicking because like, he's made plans but he'd laugh at those messages and reply, "yeah, let me know how that goes." or, "you would have done that already if you really wanted to." and she gets all pouty bc she wanted him to tell her to wait for him, that he'll fuck her better than any other guy she'd pick up.

each time he has a few days off to go home, they do something new. max gets her comfortable with kissing him, grinding and taking each other's clothes off before he fingers her or goes down on her. once she's comfortable being touched and initiating it, max teaches her how to jerk him off and suck him off. he'd always ask her how far she wants to go, what she wants to do, etc. at first, she was expecting him to take the lead and decide what they would do, but he's always asking her what she wants, and later she’s crawling into his lap and asking him to finger her or go down on her. sometimes she'll say sex, and he's like, "you made me go back down to two fingers when i put a third in last night, so lets not. how about my mouth?"

when that happens, she usually thanks him a few hours later, "hey, uh, i'm glad we didn't rush it today. thanks for not letting me convince you in the moment, i guess." at first she’s a bit awkward about it like, “sorry i like jumped you earlier idk why i did that.” and he tells her he likes it when she tells him that she wants him, he wants her to be comfortable enough to do that.

after a few months, she asks if they can talk and she tells him she's ready. not right then, but she wants to do it the next time he's in town. they make plans for it and she knows without him saying it (even though he does, a dozen times) that at any moment, she can stop. while he's gone, she goes out and gets a new set, gets waxed if that's her thing, gets her nails and hair done. she wants to feel her absolute best, and if everything looks and feels perfect to her, she will feel exactly that.

there's not an ounce of nervousness in her when she sees max again, no second thoughts about what they're going to do. things move slower than usual, neither of them are in any rush and he waits for her to move onto the next thing each time. she’s kind of frustrated bc he knows what they’re about to do but he’s not making any effort to get undressed until she’s tugging on his shirt with one hand while the other is underneath and exploring bare skin. she has to take her own shirt off, and when he sees the white lace he kind of freezes up bc wow.

he spends so much time worshipping her body, refusing to take the lingerie off until she’s begging him to. he kisses her lips raw then covers her in love bites, praising her all the while. telling her how pretty she looks, how much he loves the set. she really loves his fingers and mouth, but after the third orgasm she’s starting to think he’s forgotten the objective. he doesn’t stop until she’s huffing at him for taking so long, and tells him that she needs to feel him in her. honestly though, he’s just nervous about it. he wants it to be perfect and now that he’s in the moment he wishes he had gone all out with rose petals and candles and bubble bath for afterwards. he’s so careful and asks if she’s sure a half dozen more times as he opens the condom, puts it on, arranges pillows under her hips, lines up.

he can’t let himself think about how good she feels around him, choking back moans so he can grit out the words, “are you okay? how do you feel?” like he can’t feel her throbbing around him, practically choking his cock. his head gets fuzzy because he feels so good, it’s been so long since he’s had sex. she’s jerked him off and blown him, but he hasn’t been with anyone else since they met and he agreed to take her virginity. and then there’s her, fluttering her eyes up at him as she gasps and tells him how good it feels, how full she is, and he’s not even halfway in. he’s probably doing breathing exercises to calm down his racing heart, holding onto the pillow under her hips with a death grip because he doesn’t want to bruise her hips with it.