#skirted slipper chair

[demyxix]

Toronto Closet A small transitional women's dressing room with open cabinets and white cabinets is an example.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Fire In His Blood

Lucien x reader

For Day 2 of @acotar-omegaverse-week - Turning Up The Heat: You seem a little flushed, darling... is everything alright?

a/n: avert your eyes

warnings: smut obviously, knotting, pussy-eating, overstim, squirting, light nipple play, spanking, praise kink, breeding kink, kinda rough sex, biting, belly bulge

word count: 3,696

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Across the room Lucien sits patronisingly silent, both eyes focused with infuriatingly faux concentration on the book clasped in his long fingers. 

Your throat rolls, a pearly bead of sweat gliding down your spine, throat rolling as you shift once more in attempts to shy from the blazing heat of the miniature furnace. If you’d also hailed from the Autumn Court you’d be singeing the carefully trimmed ends of his thick, silky hair; burning the hem off his perfectly tailored trousers that wrap themselves greedily around the mouth-watering muscles of his thighs; turning his slippers to coal. 

Perspiration gathers between your breasts, but you refuse to yield an inch. He’s used this tactic plenty of times before, and each and every one you’ve naively fallen for it; not this time. 

In the evenings when the light fades, and the air becomes cool but dry and the two of you take up your seats in the living room, windows flung wide to allow that evening breeze to sweep through the interior should the day have been too much of a struggle, he’ll do this. Slowly raise the temperature of the room, incrementally inching higher until you discard your outer layers. Then it will continue to creep higher…and higher…and higher…until there’s a dewy shine to your skin and you’re in little more than a vest and underwear. Then one thing will lead to another. 

“Your clothes are already off.” He would reason with a self-satisfied smirk, a broad palm gliding up to pause between your shoulder blades, the pads of his fingers splayed across your skin. “Might as well help you sweat out the fever.” 

Of course, it was never a fever. Nor an oddly warm night. Always Lucien Vanserra, inching up those degrees. 

On this cooler night, however, there’s a fire lit in the spacious living room, burning and crackling and sparking. A log splits, popping cavernously and you flare your skirts under the guise of rearrangement. The temporary rush of air that sweeps up your legs is welcome, but the following stagnancy is hellish. With a subtle glance to the windows, you ache for them to be open, for the curtains to be swaying in a nighttime breeze bringing in a moon-kissed wind that would soothe the burning heat of your skin, but as it is the curtains are drawn shut, trapping you within the sweltering furnace of a room. 

Breathing becomes difficult, the dry air itching at your parched throat, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth and lips sticking shut. 

When a bead of sweat rolls down your temple, your jaw grinds, pushing abruptly from the armchair to stride over to your mate. Arms fold beneath your breasts, glaring down at the cocky alpha you’d somehow thought would be a good idea to spend the rest of your life with. 

“Lucien.” His name is a sharp hiss of vehemence from your lungs, his eyes snapping from his book at the furious tone. “Cut it out.” You grit the words through a clenched jaw, nostrils flared with indignation.  

His brow raises in denial, lips parting to produce a no-doubt snarky reply, when he pauses. His pupils dilate, chest expanding on a slow and deep inhale. A few seconds pass with you stood before him, arms crossed tightly as you glare down at your alpha while he stares silently upward. Then his book closes. He doesn’t take his eyes from you as he lays it across the chair’s arm, and the heavy novel slides from the fabric, thumping to the wooden floor. 

Lucien’s attention remains on you, making the heat increase tenfold, blood scalding as it gushes through your body. 

“I said cut it out,” you pant, fury singeing at the edges, steadily disintegrating to ash as you have to drag your sleeve below your jaw, drying the dampened skin. 

Lucien’s throat rolls, irises almost entirely swallowed by the black of his pupils. “Lovely…” he tries, but you cut him off with a low hiss that boarders on a snarl. “Right now, or I’m—” 

Hot palms caress your hips before long, deft fingers curl around the sweep of bone and your pulse fumbles, spiking higher than you thought possible. Breath catches and sweat slowly slips down your inner thigh, trickling over the scalding skin—so hot you’re surprised it’s not evaporating. 

Lucien swallows again, hot mouth parting on a short breath, a fang glinting shy from beneath his lip. “That’s not…” He’s breathing heavily now, nostrils flaring delicately and his grip closes around your ribcage, fingers splaying up your back while his thumbs graze beneath the swell of your breasts. Your inhales match his, growing laboured as he stands from his seat, slowly rising higher until your head tips back, forced to crane your neck from the proximity. 

Another droplet of sweat slides down your inner thigh, meandering down until it drips over the roundness of the interior of your knee. “Turn down the heat,” you demand breathlessly, “it’s too hot.” 

“That’s not me,” he murmurs, tongue flicking over his lips, eyes refusing to remove themselves from your face. “Lu, there’s currently sweat dripping down my thighs, don’t you dare…” You trail off in a moan when hunger darkens his eyes, pulling you tight to his body and sliding those long fingers between the roundness of your ass, pushing between your legs to graze your clothed sex. “I don’t think that’s sweat, princess.” 

He spins you around faster than you can blink, pushing you down into the deep cushioning of his armchair, spreading your thighs so they hook over the arms, skirts shoved up to your hips. Firelight shudders over the burning orange room, walls alight with the heat of flame and arousal liquefies in your lower belly, hundreds of tiny butterflies fluttering wildly in your abdomen, between your legs, so much intensity your thighs begin to shake. “What-…?”

It seems Lucien’s figured it out before you, knees hitting the hardwood floor with a painful thud, fingers wrapping around and squeezing the flesh of your thighs as he pushes them closer to your chest. A shiver breaks down your spine as his fangs graze the interior of your knee, tongue dragging hotly against your skin, flicking up over that heavy droplet of— 

The growl he releases has you sinking further into arousal, leaning deeper into the instincts that are swiftly surfacing. You push your legs wider, leveraging yourself upon the arms of the chair to incline your hips, offering and begging for him to do something. 

A russet and a golden eye both flick upward and you swear you can feel them over your pussy, skating up over your breasts, nipping and tugging at your lips. Heat, they say, You’re in heat. 

You think you shake your head but you can’t be sure, not with the haze that’s descended down on your mind like a wave of fog cresting the mountains and falling to fill the valleys. 

“Lucien,” you breathe. “Lucien…” 

His nostrils fare, scenting the arousal that’s practically rolling off your body, almost vibrating with need, slick dripping from your sopping pussy. Soaking all the way through your underwear. Dampening the fabric of the cushions beneath you. 

A moan spills from your lips, hips rolling upward desperately as he tears the underwear from your body, fangs having pierced the delicate fabric, ripping them clean from your sensitive skin. His eyes are glued to your cunt, glistening in the firelight, and pulses of pleasure flutter up through your abdomen as he drags his tongue through your centre. A thick thread of slick is attached to his chin from a single lick, and he dives back almost instantly, tongue, teeth, and mouth centring at your entrance, his nose pushing against your clit and your thighs fall apart for him.

The sound of slurping bounces off the walls, his tongue practically burning as he licks you clean, swiping against the innermost parts of your thighs, trailing around the the curve of your cunt, lapping from where your ass meets the cushion to the tip of your clit. You want more. You need more. You open your thighs wider, as wide as they can go, hips bucking and rolling, rubbing against his face. Fingers lazily, weakly, thread through the length of his silky hair, feeling as it slips between your digits, perfect to grab onto—like luxury reigns. 

Your hands bunch into fists, knuckles turning white from the grip you have on him. Powerful arms band around your thighs, muscles stretching from how far you’re being pushed apart, aching from the pleasurable strain but it feels so good. The babbling moans that are falling from your throat are probably more than enough to tell him that, though. 

The orgasm rises smoothly, swiftly, dragging you under like a stray riptide as a wave passes overhead, dragged down, down, down, as breath is locked in your lungs, drowned as the pleasure pulses through your thighs, cunt fluttering as your clit aches. 

It’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. 

“Lucien.” Hands tug on his hair but his face is still buried between your thighs, tongue and teeth working hungrily, dragging up through your centre, licking up and tasting your orgasm. “Lucien. Lu. More. Please.” Your breathing is far from even, laboured and huffing from your lips, fabric rustling as laces fly free from loops, ruffles strewn from your waist and arms, flung to the floor as you surge forward to meet the firm body of your alpha. 

His palms wrap themselves in a cage around your ribs, moans and groans spilling hotly as your lips meet, arousal gleaming thickly over his mouth as his tongue dips inside. Fuck, you can feel him against your stomach, the hard outline of his cock digging into your abdomen, and he can’t have all those clothes on. Feral fingers claw at buttons, sending them flying as linen is ripped away from hot, bare skin, your tongue instantly dragging up his sternum, teeth biting hungrily at his collar bone like you might be able to feast on him. 

“Love,” he pants, hands squeezing and exploring, tracing and retracing each line of muscle, every swell of your body as if he’s blind. “Love.” It comes out as a snarl, fresh arousal bursting through your body, every spec of skin aching with acute awareness, searching for the feeling of his rough hands to satiate the keen yearning that’s itching below your flesh. 

His hand fists in your hair, tugging you back, forcing you to stare into his molten gaze, starving hunger simmering so blatantly a whimper escapes your throat. His fangs glint in the flame light, then he’s hauling you back with him, shoving you down to the floor, the impact hardly registering as he fits himself between your legs, and you can feel him. Oh gods you can feel him. 

“Lucien,” you cry, on the verge of melting into nothing. “Inside…I need you…inside, now.” 

Thigh are pushed upwards, knees to your chest, sweat trickling down the nape of your neck, dripping onto the rug below. Your eyes lock as he slides in to the hilt, the entrance swift and effortless. Wet slurping noises sound between you as your arms and legs lock around him, panting and crying as you feel him deep inside, powerful muscle hot and firm against your soft and supple form. 

Lucien groans, muscles flexing in his arms as he pulls back to look at you. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growls, jaw straining as molten iron simmers in his one russet eye. He leans closer, lips searing your own. “Perfect little omega cunt.” 

Your eyes flutter, grinding sloppily against one another, hips rolling and bucking lazily, not yet focused enough to organise your movements. His cock rubs against your walls, pushing a bulge into your stomach and your toes curl. “Lucien…I— I need—”

“I know what you need,” he growls, palms splaying across the carpet as he pushes himself up, firelight kissing sun-warmed skin. “And—fuck—I’m right here.” 

A loud moan is shoved from your chest as he pulls back and slams in, pleasure knocking the breath from your lungs, and you don’t think you’ll be able to live through this if he doesn’t let you take his knot. 

You need his knot. 

Need to feel it swelling inside of you, locking you so firmly in place as he releases into you, making sure you can’t pull off him when he unloads inside of your sweet, dripping pussy. Not until you’re dripping his cum down your thighs from being stuffed full, so full— 

Lucien hits a spot than has your nails scraping and scratching his back, clawing hungrily as your arms shake, needing to feel him inside of you, spilling into your cunt, filling you up until you can’t move without some of him dripping out. Lucien curses under his breath, hips stuttering as he feels you tighten around him, sucking him deeper into your wet heat. “Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, hips rolling roughly to your own, bucking sharply as instinct demands he give and give and give. “So fucking pretty. So fucking prefect of you.” 

Your eyes flutter, and you’re coming, squeezing his cock tight, hips bucking as your clit grazes his abdomen, thunder and lightening storming in your veins, fuelling the fire that’s burning between the two of you. 

Lucien releases a deep-throated groan, bordering on a growl as he feels you fluttering around him. His brows furrow, eyes shutting as he pants, basking in the aftershocks of your cunt. “Feels so good,” he mutters, hot breath fanning across your throat, fangs scratching faintly, promising more. “Gods, I could stay in you forever.” 

“More,” you urge, thighs squeezing him, hips already bucking against his despite having just orgasmed. “Lu, please. Need your knot. Need it inside of me.” 

“If that’s what you want…” 

You whimper with pleasure as he rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so you’re straddling his hips. Tears slip from your lashes as gravity pulls you down on his cock, his tip pressing against that spot that… 

Your palms splay across his chest, his hands gripping your hips tight, cock nestled deep inside your dripping cunt. “Lu…” you start, but his grip tightens on you, lifting you sharply from his hips only to slam you down, bucking up to meet you. Your spine arches with the surge of pleasure, teetering along the line of overstimulation…but that’s exactly what you need. To be shaking, trembling, sobbing. Need to hardly know up from down, and still have him pounding your pussy, filling you up. 

His hips buck, and your nails push against his skin. “There…!” You pant breathlessly, “right there…!” Lucien angles your hips, keeping you from moving away. “Here?” 

“Yes…yes, yes, yes!” 

Your breathing falters as you feel a swell at the base of his cock, noting how his chest is lined with tension…you begin bouncing, vibrating with pleasure when you feel him swell, grow larger, and larger…and… You whimper, wiggling your hips faintly, nestling down on him as you feel his knot lodge inside of you perfectly. Lucien groans, and you know he’s undeniably close. Close to spurting loads of cum into your pretty pussy, his knot keeping you locked on top of him as he finishes…you can’t wait for it. 

“Lu…” you whine softly, bringing your body to a still, fingers half-wrapping around his wrists, encouraging them higher. “Touch me…please…” 

“You want more?” The laugh he releases is strained to say the least, but his russet eye is glinting with hunger. “Greedy little omega. Isn’t that right?” Your teeth find placement in your lip, nodding eagerly as a lazy smile curves your lips. “Greedy…so greedy, Lu.”  

“Want my cock and my knot, huh?” 

“So badly.” You arch into his touch as he palms your breasts, grazing the pads of his fingers over your sensitive nipples. “So, so badly.” 

“Mhmm. So if I do…” Fingers pinch at your nipples, hips rolling up to meet yours, grinding against you so his knot rubs against those sensitive inner walls. 

Lucien chuckles as your eyes roll, hands falling away from his wrists, barely holding yourself upright on his cock. “Please…” you whisper, swirling your hips, tightening around him in encouragement. Urging him to finish inside of you. “Want to take it…” 

“You think you can?” He taunts, bucking upward sharply. 

“Mhmm. I can…”

“And you’re gonna do it…?”

“Well! …so well,” you pant. “Please…!”

A smirk curves his mouth, and you hungrily slide over him, lips pushing together as you moan into the sloppy mess of a kiss. His palm connects with you ass, squeezing appreciatively, soothing the sore skin before pulling back and spanking you again. Curses are muttered over your lips, Lucien feeling how you tighten around him with every impact, his canines nipping at your lips, his own still tasting of your arousal. 

“You’re going to be a good girl and take it? All of it?” A nod, followed by a hard spank. 

“My sweet little omega? Desperate for my cock? Not going to complain or whine when it gets too much because she doesn’t know her own limits?” Another nod, another spank. 

“Gonna take everything you can? No complaints? Not gonna brat about how it’s too much when you love it being too much?” An eager whimper, followed by a firm and final spank. 

“I won’t…I’ll take it…I’ll be perfect…!” 

“Such a good girl,” he praises, russet eye twinkling with male satisfaction, pride shining in his blown-out pupils. His fingers flex around your hips, readjusting his hold. “Have it.”

Together, you lift as far as you can go and slide down, swiftly finding motion and rhythm that works—you finding what you like, and Lucien carrying your movements with his grip, following whatever direction you choose. 

Both of you curse as he reaches his peak, feeling his knot pulse inside of you, feeling all of him inside of you, releasing, spurting hot cum, unloading himself deep into your cunt. Euphoria floods your body, heart fluttering in your chest. Your head tips back, hips swirling over him, Lucien’s hands pressing you down tight to him. Cock nestled deep, cum releasing deeper. 

Power crackles through the air, magic blazing from within his chest, the very tips of his fingertips glowing with red-hot brightness, russet burning the colour of freshly forged steel as pleasure courses through his body. 

Breath is knocked from you however, when he flips you over. 

You gasp at the sensitivity, shuddering with overstimulation, sweat surely beading down your spine. Is he—? “Lucien!” 

His hands grip your hips tight, his knees between your own on the rug, your palms flat against the soft fur and tears line your eyes as he pulls himself out, knot deflated enough for him to slip away. 

And slam back in to the hilt. 

The force knocks you forward, arms giving out beneath you as he pounds your poor pussy, slick coating your thighs—his, too—as it continues dripping, spilling from where you’re joined. One hand snakes between your legs, the pad of his middle finger effortlessly locating your clit, and you squirm as he begins circling it—mean, tight circles than make your muscles lock. 

Pleas fall from your lips, begging for more, for less, to go slower, to go harder, to fill you up, to full out, to fuck your mouth, to fuck your pussy, to come on your tongue, to spill more inside of you…to fuck you into babbling, sobbing mess of pleasure, arousal, and come.

“That’s it,” he soothes, curving over your arched back, heat pressing into your spine. “You’re taking it so well. Let me keep you full, yeah?” 

You moan your desperation, nodding your head as much as you can, feeling heat boil and bubble within your core, having trouble dealing with all of his stimulation…and with another knot forming… Gods, this. This is perfect. This is what you need. Every minute of every hour of every day for the next week. Maybe more. 

Lucien pulls himself upright so the hand that was bracing him on the rug can drop to the slick interior of your knee, gripping tight as his fingers wrap a good way around the circumference of your thigh, cocking your leg. You drool into the carpet as he fucks you deeper into the pleasure, knot swelling larger, larger than before, once again locking you tight together, except this time his fingers are rubbing against your clit and you sob as you reach your peak. 

Pleasure unlatches within you, and you feel as liquid pleasure releases onto him, gushing as he hits those spots again, and again, and again. Fucking you into an oblivion of ecstasy. 

In the back of your mind you can hear the breathless praises falling from his mouth. Telling you how perfect you are, how well you’re taking his cock, how full you’re going to be by the time he’s done with you. And sure enough you can feel him spurting into you, releasing himself deep inside your cunt. 

You’re a panting, sweating mess beneath him—both of you are, really. Skin glistening before the hearth, flame flickering its heat onto the walls. You’re far too sensitive to be moving, the aftershocks still fluttering through your overstimulated cunt, and yet part of you wants Lucien to roll you back on top of him and start slamming you down again, pounding into you until you’re orgasming again, feeling his knot swell inside, keeping you together. 

Teeth prod into your lower lip, tilting your head to one side. Together sounds good. Joined; locked; tied. 

Your throat rolls as Lucien’s tongue licks up the side of your neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest where instincts are ordering him to bite, searching for the spot he likes. And when his fangs find those marks, the rightness of your unity floods you with pleasure, weakly pushing back against him so his cock remains tight inside of you. 

Gods, a week of this…fucking heaven. 

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

[yanderenightmare]

Mahito

TW: idk, threatening atmosphere ig

fem reader

Thinking about being a psychologist assigned a certain crazed serial killing cannibal… 

The walls seemed too white. Loud. So impersonal, it became personal. Cold and eerie, as if it wanted to make everyone inside feel unwelcome.

Your palms were embarrassingly sweaty, causing you to wipe them down your skirt, also in an attempt to straighten it out, where the approaching footsteps on the other side of the door only helped make your heart beat faster.

You swallowed your anxiety when you heard the latch open and tried to wipe your face free of fear, knowing how such fragility would not survive here. You almost felt nauseous, but then the patient came in, and, unlike you, he looked completely normal – happy even.

"Good morning." You reported routinely, and just as routinely, he chose not to answer and instead stared at you where you sat on the other side of the table, as ready as ever. 

It had become a ritual shared between the two of you. Intimate.

You, who made yourself comfortable before he was let in – folder and notepad and two ballpoint pens in two different colors, one red and one blue, placed in front of you on the table – just far enough away that he couldn't reach them.

And he, who’s comfortable either way – dressed in his given uniform and slippers as he stepped across the cold floor slowly before dropping into the chair in front of you.

You wear jewelry, and suppose he does so as well.

He looked your body up then down – analyzing what he saw with an unimpressed face – taking in your straight posture where you sat like a doll placed in a glass display with your knees together and your hands folded neatly atop your lap. 

He seemed disappointed when roaming your outfit – a childish pout on his lips. A secular pencil skirt, tight but modest nonetheless, reaching below the knees – only showing calves and ankles. A demure blouse – no sheer fabric, no bright color, no cleavage – just dull pink-beige that reached up below a set of pretty collarbones and a neckline donned a simple pearl necklace. 

If you wore makeup, it couldn't have been much – but your lips had a certain shine to them, not much color other than natural, but glossy in a way that made them look… tasty.

You were pretty, but pretty in a very ordinary way – pretty in such a way that wasn't enough to answer the question of whether you were trying or not. And he thought that was fun. 

You looked boring, but you weren’t boring because you were anything but obvious.

You smiled nicely, pretending that he didn't make you nervous – and that, in turn, made him smile, but not for the reasons you would have liked. He thought you were a little weird for wanting him to get comfortable with you when you were so clearly nowhere near comfortable yourself.

"How are you today?" You asked as if in a normal conversation when your previous ask didn’t earn any response.

He considers playing along for a few seconds but eventually feels he has done so too many times before – that now it would only achieve something boring.

He nudges the inside of his cheek with his tongue and scrapes it against his teeth before finally answering. "Have you ever seen someone go through withdrawal?"

If this had been your first time with him, you would have reacted differently, but you have since learned that he’s happy to force what he feels like telling, regardless of your attempts to turn the conversation onto other topics. So, instead of asking why he's asking what he's asking, you answer honestly and let him continue.

"No. I can't say that I have."

"Then you're in for a treat.” He says and begins the game, quickly noting with a keen twinkle in his eye the way your smile tightens before he continues. "You might think I look like shit now, but you should’a seen my skin then – all ash and gray like a rotten fish. Should have some pictures of that in your binder – I looked as good as dead.” He joked with a smile. "And yet, I was still alive… ‘cause I kept kicking and flopping around. And it was cold – freezing – so cold that my teeth gnashed without having anything to bite into. And even though I’ve never been one to cry, I cried then, like a newborn fresh outta the womb." He confessed with even more of a chuckle in his voice.

The smile only grew sharper when he saw you open the notebook – his eyes twitching a little at the sound of the ballpoint clicking under your thumb as he watched you approach the sheet with red ink.

"Oh- and sweat," He continued, "My God, how you sweat." Grinning as the adrenaline of excitement sharpened the red in his corneas – crazed two-toned eyes bulging as he watched you scribble. “You may think you know sweat, but you don't – you don't know the stench of it.”

He shook his head along with the words, happy to have engaged you in his little game. You were so cute, sitting there opposite him as if the two of you were on a date and he was telling you some fun story from his past.

"And I shook! Like I was crazy – like I had demons on the inside that wanted out!"

You gasped as he brought his large fist down hard on the table with a blow that shook the remaining blue pen as if it jumped in fear and cowered to comfort itself the same as you.

“And then they came out. ‘Cause I puked ‘em out!”

His eyes were impossibly dark, though they remained the same as always. Full of something… something you just couldn't understand. Along with a crack of a smile that was anything but healthy.

"For several hours, I vomited until my soul was left in the toilet bowl… That is… the times I was lucky to even make it to the bathroom in time..."

His words earned a grimace from you, sitting with a lump in your throat, clutching the pen that had now gone silent in your still grip.

"And that smell doesn't go away…" He continued, calmer now. “It sits and sinks into the floors... Remains to remind you of what you are – mocks you, pokes fun, laughs as it predicts the future…”

His eyes gave yours the same feeling as being threatened with a knife, the way he looked down at you while you stared up at him – your eyes wide in prayer before you couldn't hold back any longer and had to look away.

"Because you know..." The voice was even quieter now but still with a reprehensible darkness that required goosebumps. "No matter what promises you make to yourself, you will always break them the moment the hunger strikes again... That's just human nature." He concluded, letting the silence work for himself.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and met his gaze again, trying your best to appear unflappable even though you’d already let the mask slip a couple of thousand times already.

"What made you think of that?" You asked then, clicking your pen – that way you do when the silence creeps worse than his words.

“This room.” He answered. “It's like withdrawal.”

"It doesn't say anywhere in your file that you’re a drug addict?"

"The whole reason I'm sitting in here is 'cause I’m an addict." He snarled, and you almost lost the pen with how you flinched.

There was another pause, and his face softened again into something else.

"But you're right. I've never done drugs." He smiled with his head cocked a little to the side as he looked at you with that fixed unpleasant look. "But I was convincing, wasn't I?"

You clicked your pen again and wrote another thing down in the notepad.

"Psh-" He scoffed. Something in his voice had changed, twisted into something similarly accusatory to yours. "You're just like me."

You stopped writing. Your whole body had been taken by instinct at his disturbing statement – brows furrowed as you fought the urge to gnaw at your bottom lip.

"How so?"

Your heart was pounding to the point where you could hardly feel anything but the bleeding pulsing in your ears – pumping in your fingertips – rocking the ribs in your chest.

A silent toothless smile crept up his face anew from where it had been playing at the corner of his mouth as he watched you cling to the red pen as some sort of weapon you could use if he chose to throw himself across the table.

He laughed at the thought but stopped short upon his next utterance. "You’re also an addict."

You had such a very pitifully confused expression. He took a second to admire it with a smile that only grew sharper, to a sick point where you almost couldn't recognize him as human at all anymore.

"You use – you eat and chew and swallow everything but the bones, everything you can stuff your bottomless belly with in hopes it'll soothe the hunger."

You had to gulp.

"Most people, you see, eat themselves. But we…" His gaze was like a spark – powder and fuse teased by friction, just waiting to explode. "We eat people."

Another silence fell upon you, but this one heavier than the previous ones – as if everything took a moment to catch its breath before you let it go, and with it came a deeply unsettling shiver down your spine.

But before you could question the statement, a beep came and took the patient away.

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

The Pilot Pt. 2

Walking into the dining room, your bunny slippers pink and prominent, you stretched and yawned out a ‘hello’. It was wonderful falling asleep in a mansion, and even more so when you spent some time in the lavish bathtub attached to your room. It almost made you not want to leave to go downstairs. Yet, you knew there was a job to be done. The children commented on your colorful robe and slippers, astounded that you showed up to breakfast in such attire. Mr. Wayne seemed amused and commented as such, playfully saying that he wished he owned the same bunny slippers you did. You offered to lend them to him, and he rejected the idea. 

Sitting at the table, you playfully scolded Alfred, “You should tell me these things. A simple dress for breakfast would have been fine.”

“Forgive me, Miss, I assumed you knew,” He said, slightly smiling, as he set a breakfast plate in front of you. 

You shook your head, smiling at the plate of food. “I’m from downtown Gotham, Alfred. You have to assume I know nothing.” You looked around the table, watching as they looked at you with surprise. “What? I got something on my face?”

“You’re sitting at the table,” Duke said shyly. 

You looked to Bruce, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t as he continued to eat his food. “Where else am I supposed to sit?”

“The kitchen,” Dick replied bluntly. 

You blew him off. “That’s so old-fashioned, and I’m too social for that. Now, what’re we doing today?” 

The kids told you they would need to leave the house since Mr. Wayne would be holding a charity dinner party that the children were not invited to. Not that you said it aloud, you were less than impressed by Bruce’s lack of involvement with the kids in things. So, you offered to take them to buy clothes and other things, and Mr. Wayne was happy enough to lend you his credit card. You marveled at the black American Express card, never thinking you’d see one in person—Let alone hold one. 

Suddenly, Alfred re-entered the dining room to tell Mr. Wayne that Lucius Fox was on the phone for him. You got up soon after, taking your plate full of food, and told the kids that you were leaving to get dressed, happy as a clam with your new position.

—

Dick was reserved, openly hostile toward you, and didn’t like the idea that now there was even more of a reason for Bruce not to be involved. You automatically made a note to force Bruce to be more active in his kids' lives and shake the eldest's rough exterior. 

So, when you arrived at the clothes shop, one your friend owned, of course, you spent more time picking out his clothes. Dick seemed like, well, a dick. He was as clever as he was spiteful and attempted to attack you at every angle. You persisted, though, while managing the other kids' wardrobes. 

Dick huffed and went to sit in one of the waiting chairs on the other end of the small boutique, seething in silence. You left him there for a bit, doting on the other children who were pretty well-behaved, albeit a bit odd. Tim had been looking under the mannequins’ skirts to see if they were anatomically correct—and, you knew instantly that would be a conversation with his father. 

As Duke and Jason were trying on ties, you finally looked over to the teenager brooding in the corner. You went over to him, holding up a red tie to his neck before taking the blue one from Damian’s small hands, who was on your hip, and doing the same. Dick was less than impressed. 

“Blue, it compliments your eyes,” You said. 

Dick huffed. “Why’re you doing this?” 

“Because I think you guys should go to that dinner tonight.” 

Before Dick could say that wouldn’t happen Cassandra stumbled over holding out a dress that she wanted to wear, but he wasn’t too dissuaded by that. He insisted that they wouldn’t be going to the dinner party.

Cassandra, even more clever than her older brother, nicely said, “I think the blue tie would suit you, Dickie. It brings out your eyes. It makes you super, super handsome.” 

He stared at her for a moment before saying, “You’re a bitch, you know that?”

Cass smiled, turning on her heel to walk off, leaving you to scold Dick as Damian slowly became more and more irritated with your arm. 

Dick only snapped at you again.

Usually, you could keep your cool, when it didn’t involve your boyfriend, but this was the last straw. “Listen here, I do not care how you feel about Bruce or anything of the sort, but I do know this; you are under my care, and you will be polite, respectful, and cut that language out when I am around.”

“Or what?”

You smiled smugly, stepping closer to Dick as you told him exactly what would happen if he did not behave.  

—

The children had come home happy, Dick noticeably more so than when he left that morning, and they all boasted about the fun they had with you. Bruce found himself excited at just how well they got on with you, and surprised when the seven of you seemed to be in cahoots. This suspicion rose when he asked you about what the kids bought, but you only brushed him off—heading upstairs in a hurry as you giggled along with the little ones. Fortunately for you, Bruce didn’t dwell much on the thought as his attentions were pulled toward making the evening perfect. 

And so had the party gone. It was starting perfectly. The guests were happy, dinner was being served on time, and, most importantly, the money was rolling in for the charities. Bruce stood in the doorway of the foyer and salon, where the guests were because Alfred had informed him that you needed something. Harvey, who had been in the middle of telling him something, followed him. 

To his surprise, you were standing on the last landing of the staircase in a classy red dress, and he would be lying to himself as well as you if he didn’t admit that you looked stunning. Proudly looking down at him, you grinned before turning to see the kids, all dressed up, behind you. 

“Who is that,” Harvey mumbled to Bruce, grinning from ear to ear. 

Bruce answered, “My nanny.” When you approached, he said in a hushed tone, “I told you the children couldn’t attend.”

You acted shocked, hand going to your cheek, and said sarcastically, “Oh, my! I must be blushing.”

“You’re a dirty player,” He commented before going to his children. Bruce admired how well they all cleaned up, doting on them like he always did, before telling them to be on their most perfect behavior. 

Harvey took this chance to introduce himself, and you seemed charmed. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. DA. Say, I’ve got some parking tickets that I think are pretty bogus, you think you fix those for…”

You trailed off when Bruce came back up to you, motioning all of you toward the salon, and whispering in your ear, “We’re discussing this later.”

You rolled your eyes, you would rather have fun than stress what your boss would say. The children were a hit amongst the party-goers, all of them cooing and awing at the children. You, too, were an intrigue to the guests since you were the mysterious latercomer who also happened to be beautiful. Bruce was surprised by just how well, with your downtown Gotham charms, you ran in the circles of the rich. You enthralled them with little tales of the children, some he was sure you made up, as well as wise outlooks on life (according to yourself, but the people listening took it up like catnip). 

Bruce also found himself having the time of his life with his kids, joking with them, and sharing the bits of business to the best of his ability. Dick was happy that he was paying more attention to them rather than the party, even going as far as to call him ‘Dad’ rather than Bruce. And, when you had left to put Damian to bed, Dickie had told him to keep you around along with something about wanting to keep his social life intact another day. 

That certainly would be something else he would need to speak to you about. 

—

“Goodbye, Harvey! I’ll call you about those parking tickets,” You called out the front door as you put the small piece of paper with his number into your bra. When you turned around there was Bruce, standing there with his hands on his hips, and you thought for sure you were going to get sacked. 

Before you could explain, Bruce said, “Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”

You were shocked, but not undeterred from your original task. “All I want to do is show those kids that you care about them.”

“I do care about them, and don’t need you to show that.”

You stepped forward, snickering. “I seriously doubt that. I mean, look how happy they were tonight. Why would you want to exclude them like that, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce thinned his lips, thinking for a moment before relenting. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were right or that he found the courageous glint in your eyes fairly pretty that he gave up so easily. Reluctantly, he agreed that maybe you were right and mentioned how much the kids liked you, even going as far as to offhandedly mention what Dick said. 

“You can stay,” He said. 

You grinned, “Good. I think you’d have a hard time getting rid of me now. I think the masses in this house might revolt.”

Bruce looked at you again before smiling. No matter how he felt, Bruce couldn’t deny one thing; That you were the perfect addition to the household.

[titan-senpai]

What the hell?? Pt.3

A young lady who was a model lived on earth ended in a tragic way.. and ended up in hell somehow? While she cant hurt a fly.. Right?

Warning: Cursing,smoking.

pt [1] [2]

I don't know how long it's been since I ended up here.. I've joined the Vees as THE Model of hell and ended up as an overlord amongst them.

It's probably been a few years.. The Princess of Hell Charlie was 12 when I came here.. She's almost an adult. so i've been here for a while i guess, my death was a mystery but at the end they both joined me in hell and i made them suffer as an overlord.

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

Heels clacking as me and Velvette walked to the elevator to the meeting being fashionably late. As the elevator closed I checked my phone looking at my upcoming shoots for this week. as Vel opened the door on the phone with Valentino as I took a seat and apologized for being late as Carmilla gave me a nod. " R you doubting me? Really me?!" She yelled at the phone " They're all a joke.. I know" She leaned on the chair next to me " thank you see ya soon, Kisses darling" She hung up taking a seat down.

" Nice of you to join us, Velvette... Will your colleagues be joining?" she asked, turning to look at us. Vel quickly smiled " No they have better shit to then listen to an old windbag, who thinks she's tough shit. We're here to represent." She put an arm over me.

'Charming.."She continued with the meeting. " As I was saying we need to discuss.." she pointed at the board behind her as Vel lifted her hand up "Yes?" Carmilla said.

" On the subject of Discussion." She smiled, pulling a dead exterminator's head, throwing it across the table for her, smiling with a grin as I took notes of the meeting... that was getting interrupted.

Everyone was shocked upon seeing the head on the desk. Carmilla looked with a serious look " Where did you get this.." i spoke up "we found it during extermination day." " If these things can be killed, it changes everything, we can take the fight to them" She stood on the desk, heels klanking. "My gang has come up with a full assault plan" she smiled looking at me as i stood up fixing my skirt walking to carmilla handing her the notes about the plan to assault them.

Loud sipping was heard from Zestial as everyone looked at him. "Is it true my colleagues want to start a war with such little proof." he put his hands together "Thou art far more foolish than i thought." My blood boiled "little proof? Its a dead fucking exorist!" she pointed at the head we brought. she crossed her arms as i sat back down in my seat " You going blind..Old man" she said smiling at him.

"We don't know how this perished..mayhaps was not by demons hands at all." he said holding his cup again " if we rush to war without knowing when they purge all of hell for a daring uprising." Hitting his fist on the table.

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

The meeting was over and me and Vel were headed back to headquarters to rest and I had to get ready for my photoshoot with Angel dust.

as we entered the building i took my heels off slipping on comfortable slippers "That old hag can go fuck herself" Velvette yelled storming inside as i let her cool down.

" How did it go?" Valentino asked me as he looked at his phone. " Nothing much the usual, where is Vox?" I sighed as I took a seat on the couch. " He's at Voxtech doing his daily routine" he inhaled smoke.

rubbing my temples " when will Angel get here.." i looked at the ceiling. as i felt smoke being exhaled " He is getting ready on location. so should you." he leaned closer to my face. " You're right, I'll see you later val. " I stood sending a text to Vel who was pissed in her room. putting on my heels back on and getting in my car.

Soon I arrived at the location of the shoot for a new lingerie set. parking my car reserved for the Vees. getting in the elevator to see Angel dust. "Hey y/n!" he said waving from his chair as they got the set ready. I can say I'm quite close with Angel since he became Valentinos slave. I've been helping him and fighting with Valentino for his sake.

" hey Angiee!" I smiled as I hugged him "Give me a minute, I need to get ready. '' I smiled as I walked to the changing room. making my own lingerie fitting me perfectly. looking in the mirror adjusting tiny details as a necklace, earrings and curling my hair the way I like.

I walked out of the changing room in seconds with floating makeup touching up my face. " Ready I smiled as I made them go away. "In position" the director yelled. " also you y/n!" He yelled angrily as I looked back to him with black eyes with red pupils the complete opposite of what they normally are...

Angelic..

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

As we were in the middle of a shoot the door flung upon revealing the princess of hell. " Woah! this is where Angel does his work" She smiled looking around. " take 5" the director yelled "Charlie?! What are you doing here" Angel walked to her. as I put a robe around myself and grabbed one for angel. " You mean us?" she smiled revealing a familiar face.

" Husk?" I walked closer to them. "Whos asking ?" he yelled. I put the robe on angel and me and husk locked eyes. " Y/N'' he looked at me for quite some time. " It's been a while hasn't it?" I smiled, bending down to his height " yeah i haven't seen you since i left.." He smiled. I missed that smile..

That smile could make Hell feel like Heaven for a minute...

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[aemondapologistfrfr]

Let Me Show You

aegon x sister!reader x aemond 

The Usual Part 2 but can def be read alone!

Summary: Aegon and Aemond know they’re on your mind since the other night and take pleasure in watching you blush and avoid them. Aegon has a couple tricks for them to help you find sleep, which has been escaping you the past couple of days. 

Warnings: 18+ masturbation, oral(f + m receiving), p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, double penetration, swearing

Authors Note: no plot again :) like none x

Word Count: 2.4k 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s only been a couple of days since our rendezvous in the pleasure house but it’s all I can think about. My cheeks burn every time I’m in their presence and they just smirk at me. I don’t know if they’re waiting for me to go up to them but I can’t seem to find the courage. I just avoid eye contact and hope they don’t feel my absolute want pouring off of my body. 

“The maester said you’ve been having trouble finding sleep?” our mother looks to me from across the dinner table. 

“Yes,” I clear my throat. “I may seek a sleeping draft tonight if it still escapes me.” my voice barely a whisper as I drag my eyes to my mothers. 

“We can help tire you out.” Aegon leans in and murmurs in my ear causing my cheeks to heat. 

I try to focus on my dinner as Aegon slowly scoots my chair closer to him. His hands travel up my thigh and I scold myself for wishing he was beneath my skirts. I clench my thighs together as I feel a deeper blush creeping up my neck. I hear Aegon chuckle next to me and I look up and see that Aemond is staring at us with a smirk on his lips.

“I wish I could eat you for dinner.” Aegons voice is low and taunting before he sips on his wine. I have to swallow my whimper at his words and steel myself.

“I’m not feeling well, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the night.” I stand abruptly and my mother looks to me.

“Are you okay?” her brows scrunch as she looks at me with concern. 

“I just need to lay down.” I shake my head leaving the halls in a rush. 

My slippered feet pad up the stairs rushing past the guards standing sentry. I push into my chambers and slam the doors behind me. I start pulling my dress off my flushed body as I begin to overheat. Once I’m left in my slip I collapse to the bed in a huff. I’m not risking going to a pleasure house again so my fingers will have to do for the night.

I lean back into the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. I ghost my hands over my nipples pretending their Aemonds soft touch. I cry out as I pinch one as my hips grind into nothing. I trail my other hand down my navel and slip a tantalizing finger through my wetness teasing myself. The second I swirl my fingers around my bud a whimper escapes my lips. 

“Aegon,” his name slips from my mouth before I can stop it. 

My fingers speed up their movements and I offer rough touches to my chest to imitate both of them. My hips chase my hand as I allow both of their names to fall from my lips. I get lost in my touch and pleasure, allowing my chambers to fade from around me. 

“Fuck, please Aemond,” my voice cracks as I dip a finger inside myself. I feel my pleasure coiling as my hips keep pushing off the bed. Whimpers fall from my mouth as I slip a second finger in and shutter.

“Gods I can’t watch anymore.” I jump back into the headboard as I snap my eyes open and see Aegon smirking next to Aemond who��s stalking over to the bed. 

“How long have you both been here?” my voice squeaks as Aemond crawls over me. 

“Long enough to hear how badly you need us to help you.” he chuckles dipping his head down to capture my lips as his fingers slide through my wetness. 

“Remember what I said brother.” Aegon chuckles coming to sit next to us on the bed and watches as I writhe beneath Aemond. 

“I don’t see the point.” Aemond sighs removing his fingers from me leaving me wanting for release. 

“Let me show you.” Aegon grins licking his lips. “How badly do you want to come my sweet sister?” his voice low as he pushes two fingers into my core. 

“Very badly, Aegon, please,” I mewl bucking my hips into his hand. 

He starts pumping his fingers into me and circles his thumb around my slick bud. Sharp pants fall from my lips as I chase my high. My legs begin to shake and he pulls his hand away and laughs at my frustrated whine. 

“What’s wrong?” his licks his fingers watching me. 

“Why did you stop?” I pout reaching out for his hand. 

“I didn’t feel like you wanted it enough.” I fist the sheets at his words and turn my eyes to Aemond pleading. 

“Aem, please,” my voice soft as I blink to him. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” he starts to dip down my body leaving a trail with his tongue. 

“Brother if you let her come I’ll make sure you don’t.” Aegons voice carries a sense of authority that has me clenching my thighs together. 

“Mm hear that? Aegon thinks he’s in charge tonight.” he chuckles as he licks along my thighs. 

“Aemond please,” I buck my hips up into his face. 

He licks through my wetness and I sigh falling back into my pillow. Aegon turns my head with his hands and locks me into a rough kiss. His teeth nip at my lip as I grind against Aemonds face. My whimpers become more high pitched as I feel my pleasure coiling. Aegon pulls off of me and tries to push Aemond from between my legs. 

“Aemond,” his voice is firm as he tangles his fingers roughly in his smooth locks. My legs start to shake and I begin arching off the bed. Just a couple more swirls and- 

“I know when to stop.” Aemond lifts up from me and I let out a strangled cry. 

“Please, please, I’ll be good please,” tears slip down my cheeks. 

“I know you will.” Aegon chuckles lowly. I wipe my cheeks as he comes into view undressed. My legs open wider as I take in his length and he looks at me with dark eyes. 

“Let her come, Aegon.” Aemond has a serpentine smile as he looks at my squirming body. 

“Not yet.” he shakes his head before he dips down over me. “Gunna use this tight cunt for my pleasure.” he shoves into my core and I sob as he splits me open. 

He ruts into me while moans pour from my mouth. I try to grab onto him but he holds my hands to the bed while he slams his hips. I try to control my whimpers hoping he won’t know that I’m about to burst. I’m about to let go when he pulls out of me suddenly. He kneels back and looks down at me stroking his cock. 

“Aegon, please,” I sit up and reach for his red, leaking member. 

I crawl to him and press my lips against the side of his shaft. I trail my tongue along the underneath until I reach his tip. He groans as I swirl around his leaking slit and sink down on him. Aemonds hands grip at my hips as his hardened length pushes through my wetness. I moan around Aegon as Aemond pushes in. 

“Should we let her come?” Aegon pants looking to Aemond. 

“I’m not pulling out until I fill her.” Aemond grunts snapping his hips into mine. 

I sigh around Aegon at the promise of release. As Aemond pushes in Aegon pulls out. They’re relentless and my high sneaks up on me. I choke against Aegon as I pulse around Aemond. Aemonds hips never falter as he continues to slam into me. 

“You’re doing so good.” Aemond grunts rolling his hips. 

Aegon cups the side of my cheek as I look up to him with pleasure and tear stained eyes. His gentle touch takes a turn as he twists his hands into my hair and starts to jerk his hips into my mouth. I’m gasping for breath any chance I get as Aemond continues at his savage pace. Aegon twitches down my throat and I swallow everything he gives me. 

I collapse to the bed as Aemond pushes my chest down on the bed keeping his hand there as he repeatedly slams into me. I feel my pleasure burst through me again as I sob into the bed. His hips stutter as he fills me pulling out quickly. I lay there with my legs spread and my core up in the air as I try to catch my breath. 

“Perfect position.” I feel the bed dip behind me as my chest continues to heave. “Now we’re gunna make up for all of the orgasms we stole from you.” Aegons fingers push into me and I sigh burying my head into the pillow. 

He supports my lower abdomen as he pumps his fingers into me mercilessly. My thighs quake as I explode around him feeling Aemonds seed seep out of me. Aegon scoops it into his fingers and pushes it back into me. Aemond looks down at my face smoothing my hair as I whimper. 

“Is Aegon making you feel good?” Aemond smiles down at me.

“Yes, so good,” I push my hips back into his hand and he starts to curl his fingers. My hips almost give out once Aemonds fingers brush against my bud. 

“Come for us pretty girl.” Aemond coaxes my pleasure as my body gives out. 

When I open my eyes again I’m laying against Aemonds chest propped up and Aegon is waiting with his face at my core looking up to me. My eyes widen as he smiles before softly licking at my bud. Aemonds hands cup my breasts and roll my nipples. Aegons tongue slips into my center and I cry out. 

“Aegon,” I pant as Aemond continues to tweak my hardened buds. 

“Are you gunna drown Aegon in your juices?” Aemond licks on my neck and I whimper. 

Aegon grunts in approval as his tongue ferociously starts to lick at me. My legs try to clamp around his head but Aemond holds them open with his legs baring me to Aegons attacks. He laps at me like a starved man and I feel my pleasure rock through my body as I shake against his face. 

“You taste simply divine.” Aegon licks his lips crawling up to me to capture my lips. 

I sigh into his mouth as I feel his length press up against me. He grinds me back into Aemond and I feel his hips jerk up against my back. I’m squished between them as they pepper me with kisses and tease me with their fingertips. 

“Got another idea.” Aegon looks from me to Aemond. 

“Mm what now?” Aemond pulls up from my neck. 

“Let us both fuck you. Together.” Aegons fingers slide between us back to my heat. He gathers wetness and continues past my core and circles a slick digit around my tight hole. 

“Aegon,” I squeak as he continues to watch my face as he pushes against the opening. 

“Aemond make her come with your fingers.” my breath catches as Aemond starts circling my throbbing bud as Aegon starts to push a finger in. 

Aegon slowly works his finger into me and I let out soft gasps as Aemond starts circling faster. I grind down onto Aegons finger and whine as he starts with a second finger. I look down to Aegon with low lids as he watches his fingers disappear into me. Aemond slides a finger down and dips into my core and I sob clenching around their fingers. 

I rest back against Aemonds chest as they slowly pull their fingers from me. Aegon pulls me forward and I fall against his chest. I rest on his chest and he slips up into my core. I sigh as he fills me and my head falls to his neck. I feel Aemond push our legs further open and settle behind us. 

“Fuck Aemond,” Aegon groans as I feel Aemonds fingers brush against where me and Aegon are joined, collecting wetness. I hear Aemond let out soft puffs of breath as he pumps himself, coating himself in our release. I feel him push against my tight hole and a whine bubbles out of my throat. 

“Relax for me.” he hums rubbing my hips. 

Aegon stills his hips and goes between us to rub my bud. I sob into his neck as I feel Aemond slowly push into me. My breath catches in my throat as he slides into me. Once he settles in me I focus on the full feeling of them both. Aegon jerks his hips up pushing me back on to Aemond. 

“Fuck,” Aemond grips at my hips tightly.  

I clench around them at the delicious fullness I’m being offered and fully let them take over my body. As Aegon pulls out Aemond pushes in. My body trembles with pleasure as I come holding them still inside. 

“Such a good fucking girl.” Aegons words slurred from pleasure as him and Aemond start a faster pace. 

My body is buzzing, I’ve never felt this much pleasure as I let them use me. I feel Aegons hips falter as his warmth spreads throughout me. I clench around them both and Aemond is immediately filling me from behind. I sob at the fullness of their seed and lengths still buried in me. Aemond pulls out and falls back and Aegon lifts me off of him. 

Whimpers fall from my lips as I feel their spend dripping between my thighs. They lay me between them as they kiss me and pepper me with compliments. Their hands travel all over my body trying to help me relax and one of their hands looks to find a home between my legs which I squeeze them shut shaking my head. 

“I can’t anymore.” I my body still shaking. 

“You’re okay,” Aemond shushes me pulling the blankets over us. 

“Rest our sweet girl.” Aegon kisses my brow and pulls me to him while Aemond drapes across my back as sleep finds me quicker than it ever has with a draft from a maester. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

damn here we go again 🧎🏼‍♀️

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @anaviieiraaa @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang

honorary tag from The Usual @janelongxox

[love-domme]

Run.

Male Sub x Fem Domme Drabble

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dom/sub dynamics, pet play, begging, degradation, use of restraints, riding, predator/prey, breeding kink, hunting, knife play, cutting, sex in the woods, cnc, male penetration

Freaky stuff under the cut

It was dark, darker than any night should be. The shower that could be heard throughout the house cut off, warmth emanating from the bathroom. She stepped out, wrapping a robe around her freshly washed naked body. Putting slippers on as she walked through the halls of her home until she reached the living room. He was still asleep where she had left him. She couldn’t resist running her hands through his hair. He looked so peaceful like this.

As she walked away the creaking startled him awake. The ropes binding his hands to the chair were so tight he felt them bruising his wrist if he moved. How long had he been here? How long had he been asleep? Why was this house so familiar and warm yet horrifying at the same time? And who was this woman whose lavender scent made him both terrified and…he looked down at his pants. It was the only thing he was wearing. The fabric barely hiding his growing erection.

The lavender scent grows intoxicatingly strong as she reappears, no longer in a robe but rather athletic wear. A tight top and a tennis skirt that showed off her perfect legs so well he almost forgot he should be afraid, so very afraid…

Reality set back in when he realized she was carrying a small bag. It jingled with every step she took. She caught his eyes and smiled. The type of smile you give a lost pet that’s just been found. The memories come flooding back…the woods…the game…the chase… her at the center of it all.

His eyes grow wide as he pushes back against the chair.

“Oh bunny.” She says, caressing his cheek. Her touch so tender he melted in spite of himself.“You were so good yesterday, ran so fast for me. Just not fast enough.” Clicking her tongue disapprovingly.

She set down her bag on a table he hadn’t even noticed until now. Too focused on the situation at hand. Frankly just too focused on her. She was so eerily beautiful. Every movement calculated and poise yet natural. Her touch left him as she reached inside her bag. Re-emerging with a set of carefully wrapped knives. Each one gleaming in what little moonlight was left. His heart stopped as she unwrapped each one. Raking her fingernails over each handle. She finally landed on one in the dead center, small with a black handle that fit perfectly in her hand.

She turned to face him again. Pointing the knife at him with a smile before pressing the tip of the blade right into the center of his chest. Blood quick to drip from the small puncture it made. The cool metal against his bare skin mixing with the pain of the wound caused him to whimper.

She dragged the blade down his torso. The incision just deep enough to sting. A crimson line going down to his waist before landing at the hem of his pants. She smirked removing the knife before straddling his lap. Now holding the blade to his neck she whispered in his ear.

“You’ll do better tonight won’t you bunny?” Before pushing the knife further and sinking down to sit on his hard dick.

He moaned at the sensation of her warmth against him, grinding into him. The knife still digging into his neck turning him on more. He wanted to hate it. To hate her. To hate what she was doing. But he didn’t. He loved it all so much. She knew that.

She harshly rose from his now precum stained lap causing him to groan. Placing the knife back on the table before making quick work of taking off his pants. His cock finally springing free, wet and hard. A shade of desperate red only she could make it have.

She grabbed a different knife, much bigger this time and he felt tears roll down his face as she circled him in ways a predator hunts it prey. Standing behind him now she was silent and then…the ropes loosened.

Only one word was said. A command he knew all too well.

“Run.”

And so he did. Ran as fast as he could. The house a blur as he opened the front door to the surrounding forest. The night air cold and harsh on his skin. Bare feet hitting rough dirt, doing their best to avoid sticks and leaves. He had ten seconds. She always gave him a ten second start. She liked to give him false hope.

He was deep into the forest now, farther than she’d ever let him go. He could hear a stream up ahead. There was plenty of night left. A terrifying realization. Yet his thirst clouded his judgement. As he reached the stream he stopped. Taking small quiet steps before crouching down and cupping his hand to take a sip.

A crunch came from behind him followed by silence. She had been watching him. Waiting. She knew they’d reach the stream. He always ran the same way. Almost like he wanted to be caught. Yet tonight this wasn’t going to end quickly. Tonight, her little bunny was going to play with her all night long.

His whole body tensed, her body emerging from the trees like an ethereal being. Her knife glimmering. He was paralyzed. A deer in head lights had better survival instincts than him in this moment. She stood directly in front of him now. Using the knife to guide his chin to look up at her. His trembling body a beautiful sight in the frightening backdrop of the woods.

“Caught you.” Her velvet tone filling his head leaving him dizzy.

“Please…please give me another chance please. I..I..I’ll do better” his voice a manifestation of need and desperation.

“Aw it’s too late to beg now bunny” Her boot finding his still leaking dick, pressing hard so he could feel every groove of the hard leather sole before kicking him hard. The wind left his body as he felt his back hit the ground. She flipped him over with another kick.

“Ass up pretty boy”

She laughed as he begged for mercy, slowing raising his hips into the air.

“You know the rules. Since the big bad wolf caught the stupid little bunny, she gets to breed it.”

She flipped the knife over in her hand. Delicately holding the blade before ramming the handle into his hole. His screams filled the forest, the pain too much for him to handle as she started pulling it out torturously slow. With each thrust she kissed his tear stricken face, the pain slowly turning into pleasure as his hole took every inch. The sobs turning to moans as he felt so full. So full of her. It didn’t take him long to cum on the dirt beneath him. Slumping to the ground too weak to move.

She slowly pulled the handle out, dropping the knife on the floor before gently turning him over once more. Straddling him yet again. Weak protests fell from his lips quickly silenced by her lifting up her skirt. Giving him a full view of her dripping wet pussy.

He could feel his mouth watering at the sight as his erection slowly returned. She grabbed it. Quick to guide it to her entrance.

“I’ll give you this bunny. You sure know how to put on a show.” Taking him whole.

Their moans filled the forest as she rode him like a wild animal. Biting his neck as she grinded on his spent cock. Draining load after load as she chased nothing but her own pleasure. A mixture of their cum dripping from her pussy covering his hips.

Hours passed until finally she stopped. A weak smile on her face as she fell onto his body, resting her head on his heaving chest. He held her tight. The minutes ticked by before she finally spoke.

“You finally did a good job bunny, let’s head back.”

They stayed like this a little longer before finally rising and walking back holding each other. A blissful haze guiding them home.

[macbethsymphony]

Cherry Girl | Chapter 3

Eustass Kid x Reader

Chapters: [1] [2]

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, slow burn-ish, praise kink, size difference

Chapter wc: 7.8k

Summary: Eustass ‘captain’ Kid was in a shit mood. He was pent-up, irritated and you… you and your pink mini denim skirt wasn’t helping. OR You and Kid obviously pine for each other but you're both idiots.

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3

Chapter 3: The Shower

You hadn’t seen your captain nor those girls come out of his quarters in three days now. Most of the men of the crew had opted with staying at a nearby inn, pursuing their own conquests. Killer had instructed you with leaving some water and food by his door every day and every time you changed the old empty tray of food with a new full one you’d hear loud moans in there. Seemed like they were having fun. You tried not to be envious of them. But at night, when the room was empty, you couldn’t help yourself but let your fingers wander past the waistband of your panties and wonder how he’d feel.

The sun was creeping up and you couldn’t sleep. You decided to make your way to the kitchen, get an early start on your tasks of the day. You didn’t bother changing out of your thin pajama shorts and camisole, opting to throw on a thick cardigan and slip on your pink fur slippers. It wasn’t like anyone was on the ship anyways. 

The deck was quiet for a change, fresh air feeling good on your skin. You opened the door to the kitchen. Eustass ‘Captain’ fucking Kid was standing there, shirtless, without makeup and his hair soft. He was grumbling to himself over a pan at the oven.

The smell of something burning caught your attention. You sauntered over to where he was, instinct taking over. You removed the pan from the heat, taking it away from his hand. Whatever its content had been it was burnt to a crisp. With a sigh you turned off the oven top.

“The fuck are you doing,” he said in surprise, turning over to you. He was clearly still in a foul mood.

“Sorry captain,” You answered sheepishly, “instinct took over,” you laughed discarding the contents of the pan in the trash. “You should be careful though, could have burnt the whole ship down,” you added under your breath.

Kid shot you a glare, his piercing gaze making you squirm under his scrutiny. “I know what I’m doing,” He grumbled, his voice low and gravelly.

“Clearly not, captain,” you dared. “I didn’t know eggs could be so charred and still be edible.”

He scowled at you, but not in a menacing way. “If the ship goes down, it won’t be 'cause of a fucking pan, kitten. And I do know how to fucking cook”, he mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. “Was just distracted is all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Captain. Need help with breakfast?” you asked playfully, a small giggle escaping your lips.

“I should throw you over fucking board.”

You looked out the window, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “It doesn’t look too cold, and I’m a good swimmer you know,” you answered teasingly. “A dip in the sea might even feel good.”

The audacity of your comeback caught him off guard. His eyes wandered over your body dangerously, taking you in.

“Huh? When the fuck did YOU get so fucking cheeky?” He asked indignantly, taking a step towards you. He was intimidating up close towering over you, a scowl on his face. But you could see the hint of playfulness hidden in his stare.

The intimacy of the moment made you smile.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you said, turning your back on him, donning over an apron. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

He stood there, unsure how to proceed.

“Fine,” he mumbled eventually, sitting down on a chair near the kitchen counter.

You gave a quick nod, satisfied with his response, and turned back to your work, determined to salvage what you could from his disastrous endeavors.

Just as you switched the oven on, the door to the kitchen swung open, making you jump. Killer strode in urgently. “I thought I smelled something burning,” he muttered between heavy breaths.

You laughed, a mischievous glint crossing your gaze. Kid scowled.

“Captain here decided to try his hand at cooking,” you teased between chuckles, “But apparently his mind was somewhere else,” you gestured to Kid with a playful grin.

Kid shot you a glare.

You could almost hear Killer’s brows go up at the idea. “Wasn’t aware you’d finally learned how to cook, Kid,” even though you couldn’t see his face through his mask, you could feel the amusement in his voice.

Kid shot Killer a fierce look. “Mind your own damn business, Killer. I can cook perfectly fine.”

You stifled a laugh. “Sure, you can,” you said in tandem with Killer.

Your captain grumbled something inaudible, his irritation evident.

You rolled your eyes, plating up what you’d been cooking. “There you go, Captain. A meal fit for the pirate king,” you declared, setting the plate in front of him.

“Oi, girly pop! Everything ok in here?” Quincy shouted as she opened the door to the kitchen, Dive and Heat in tow. “Something smells burnt”

You mischievously eyed your captain, he groaned loudly.

“Kid tried to cook,” Killer beat you to it.

“Huh?” Dive bellowed. “No way!” She was clearly amused.

Kid rolled his eyes, shoving food in his mouth with a vengeance, a slight embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before you. Captain Kid begrudgingly eating the breakfast you’d prepared, while his crewmates teased him mercilessly about his culinary skills – or lack thereof. 

You realized, in this perfect moment that you were happy. This, this felt like home.

Quincy and the rest crowded up in the kitchen, you got back to your cooking. The atmosphere was playful. Yes, this was nice, really nice. Warm and natural.

“Right, Quincy, show cherry girl what you found!” Heat said changing the subject.

“Ah! That’s right, look here girly pop,” Quincy beckoned. You turned to her, your curiosity piqued. She was holding up a pair of earrings, cherry earrings.

“Oh! They’re so cute!” You marvelled, picking them up excitedly.

“Just for you, cherry girl,” Quincy added, obviously proud of her find.

You blushed at the nickname. “I told you all to drop that,” you muttered sheepishly as you put on the valued gift.

“Ain’t no way we’re ever doing that,” Dive laughed.

“What’s that ‘Cherry Girl’ about,” Kid interrupted the moment, words uttered between mouthfuls, clearly intrigued.

Quincy looked at you, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. You blanched. “Don’t you fucking dare Quincy,” you panicked.

She leaned on the counter, her grin wicked as she assessed Kid. “You see,” she started in a sing-song. “Cherry girl here,” she put an emphasis on the nickname. Your ears felt hot. “Has never had anyone go down on her.”

“Huh?” Kid shouted, his head whipping back to you in surprise. Your face was red, a confirmation of what Quincy had just uttered. 

A grin plastered itself on his mouth.

“I’m not a virgin though,” You muttered quickly.

He howled.

“Kitten,” his tone was dripping with amusement. “I can change tha-” He started to say. 

“Get in line, Kid,” Quincy and Heat said together, cutting him off. “We already offered.”

You hid your face in embarrassment, your cheeks felt hot against the coolness of your fingers.

“You fucking bastards,” you squealed, your words muffled behind your palms.

“Oh look at her!” Dive added. “She’s redder than the captain’s hair.”

Your crewmates erupted in laughter, teasing you mercilessly as you tried to bury your face in your hands further. Captain Kid, still grinning like a cheshire cat, leaned back in his chair clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“You’re all insufferable,” you muttered, curling inwards.

“Are we?” Quincy said innocently, mischief filled her eyes once again. “You know captain, we all learned a lot about girly pop when we played truth or dare. It’s really too bad you missed all that,” she continued.

“Quincy!” You shouted.

“Oh really?” Kid leaned forward clearly interested.

“Really! I’ll tell you all about it if you give me a nice bonus,” Quincy added. A conspiratorial look passed between her and Kid.

“You fucking traitor, don’t you dare!” You panicked, blood draining from your face.

Kid got up, his grin down right evil as he put his arm around Quincy’s shoulders and started dragging her towards the door with him. “Deal! Start talkin’ Quin,” he shot back a look at you when he passed the door. “Thanks for the food Kitten,” the bastard dared wink at you, Quincy’s faint chatter about that night barely reaching your ears.

Fuck. You groaned, utterly mortified. You heard an ever so rare laugh come from Killer. You couldn’t help the indignant glare you sent his way.

As the door closed behind Captain Kid and Quincy, leaving you alone with Dive, Heat, and Killer, the kitchen fell into an awkward silence. You could feel the heat of embarrassment still burning in your cheeks as you tried to come to terms with the fact that Quincy had just sold you out for a bonus.

Dive and Heat exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Well, that was expected," Dive chuckled.

"Yeah, Quincy has a good knack for negotiation," Heat added, grinning.

You shot them both a fierce stare, still reeling from the betrayal. "You're not helping," you complained.

Killer laughed softly, shaking his head. "Relax, cherry girl. They're just messing with you."

You scowled at the nickname coming from Killer. You’d thought at least HE’d be better. You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I know, but still..."

Killer's stance softened, a comforting hand went to your shoulder. "Hey, it's all in good fun. And besides, it's not like Kid’s going to hold it against you."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You sure about that?"

Killer shrugged. "Who knows with him? But he's not one to judge."

You sighed, feeling a bit reassured by Killer's words. "I guess you're right."

Dive clapped you on the back, a mischievous grin on her face. "Come on, cherry girl. Let's not let Quincy's antics ruin the day. We've got a ship to run, after all."

You nodded and got back to work, steeling yourself to face whatever the day had in store. A small smile made its way on your lips. Despite the embarrassment and teasing, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the camaraderie of your crewmates. With their support, you knew you could handle any and all challenges that came your way.

Kid had actually been in a foul mood when he’d woken up that morning. The girls sleeping on his bed had suddenly started to feel very annoying. He’d roughly woken them up and thrown them out his fucking cabin. He was still so fucking pent-up. He’d fucked them day and night for three days now. They’d been a good lay, matched his intensity just right. So why the fuck was he still so fucking frustrated. He groaned, closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

Fuck. He wasn’t fucking tired.

He sighed in defeat and got up. Whatever. He was hungry.

Kid grudgingly made his way to the kitchen, his mind still reeling with irritation and restlessness. Eggs couldn’t be that hard to cook, right? He’d been lost in thought when you’d barged in and ordered him around. The fuck you think you were. He was the fucking captain of this ship. 

He’d scowled in frustration, ready to snap. That was until you’d looked up at him with that cute playful little look of yours. It almost made him smile. That wasn’t so bad he’d guessed. He could let you order him around a little, it wasn’t like it really mattered.

He’d sat down like an obedient dog at your invitation. Checking you out as you busied yourself making him something. Those shorts you wore barely hid anything, he didn’t even need his imagination to see the shapes hidden below the thin fabric of your pajamas. A soft grin made its way to his lips. This was nice actually. Really nice. He took in a breath, letting his shoulders relax.

He wasn’t so angry anymore.

Killer had stormed in at that moment. By the way his friend’s masked face had stayed a touch too long towards him, he knew he’d been caught. 

Whatever, Kid scowled.

His shoulders tensed up again in frustration. He knew Killer would ask later. Fuck. He didn’t know what he’d say.

He’d been eating when Quincy, Dive and Heat had barged in. Cherry girl, they’d call you. He was rarely curious about his crew’s antics, nicknames changed all the time on his ship. But he couldn’t help but ask this time around. By the look in Quincy’s eyes, he immediately knew this was going to be good.

Quincy had dropped the bomb. Your embarrassment making it clear that it was true. His cock had twitched momentarily at the suggestive thought that crossed his mind. He could fucking help you with that if you wanted. Hell he’d give you the time of your life. He gave your body a once over. He’d do it right here and now if you asked. A shit-eating grin plastered his lips as he started voicing his thoughts. Quincy and Heat cut him off, revealing they’d already offered.

He howled at your mortification. Seemed like they all shared the same brain cell. His cock twitched again as he looked at your thighs. They’d make amazing earmuffs. His convictions from a few days before were slowly shattering. Maybe he was that kind of man. Maybe he fucking wanted something sweet for once. He was aware of Quincy’s calculating stare on him. He waited for her to decide on whatever she was deliberating in that head of hers. A resolute look had settled in her eyes and she baited him with scandalous revelations. Oh this was getting interesting. Sure he decided, he’d bite. He snaked an arm around Quincy’s shoulder, a conspiratorial look shared between them as they’d left. The irritation he’d felt that morning was slowly ebbing away.

Yes, this was indeed interesting.

As the days progressed, you found yourself caught up in the daily activities of running the ship. The captain was out of his quarters, it was time for everyone to get back to their duties. Inventory checks, maintenance and planning resumed for the next voyage at sea. You’d sail out soon. One more night and you’d all be off. The crew continued to tease you about your new nickname, they all seemed to revel in the amusement it brought them. A faint blush would hit your cheeks but you were determined not to let it get under your skin.

Your captain hadn’t brought the subjects of whatever conversations he’d had with Quincy. You were sure he’d be back to tease you about it eventually. Maybe it was the inevitability of that teasing that brought you on edge but you could swear that his hand stayed longer and lower on your back when he passed you by. Your heart thrummed every time, ears reddening at the thought that he knew you’d fantasized about him.

You groaned. Stopping your current task, you buried your face in your hands. Flashbacks of embarrassing moments crossing your mind to your despair. “Stop thinking brain,” you told yourself aloud.

Heat barged in, interrupting the fragile peace around you. “Come on, cherry girl. Last day on solid ground. We’re going to drink”

You hesitated. Last time you were at the tavern hadn’t turned out the best for you.

“No chickening out,” you heard Dive shout from outside.

You considered trying to turn them down, although you knew it was futile. “Fine,” you mumbled, getting up.

With a resigned sigh, you followed Heat out of the ship and into the bustling streets of the town. The now familiar sights and sounds washed over you. As you walked, Heat chattered excitedly about the plans for the evening, his infectious enthusiasm gradually lifting your spirits. Despite your initial reluctance, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

The tavern loomed ahead, its warm glow inviting you in. The crew had already claimed their usual corner, their laughter echoing throughout the crowded room.

Quincy waved you over, a mischievous grin on her face. "There she is, cherry girl! Ready for round two?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile at her teasing. "Bring it on," you replied, determination in your voice.

As the night wore on, you found yourself caught up in the lively atmosphere of the tavern. Laughter, music, and the clinking of tankards filled the air, washing away the stresses of the day.

Kid wasn’t there. You’d learned he never drank the day before setting out to sea. Him and Killer planning their next route and going over the necessary preparations instead.

Quincy and Dive were engaged in a spirited game of darts, their competitive streaks evident as they cheered each other on. Heat was at the bar, chatting up the bartender and charming her with his infectious smile, probably hoping for a last fuck before the road.

As for you, you found yourself drawn into conversations with various crewmates, sharing stories and laughter as the night wore on. Despite the teasing and the embarrassment, you felt a sense of belonging among your fellow crewmates.

Quincy had eventually made her way back to your side at some point. She was clearly intoxicated.

"Hey, cherry girl," Quincy slurred, leaning heavily on your shoulder. "You know, you're not half bad for a girly pop."

You chuckled, steadying her. "Thanks, I think."

Quincy grinned drunkenly. "No, seriously. You've been holding your own out here. I respect that."

"Thanks Quince,” you laughed heartily.

“Cheers to that,” she shouted holding out her tankard. She wobbled side to side. As she leaned back on you for support, her grip loosened momentarily, the contents of her drink sloshing out of its container and down your shirt. You squeaked at the cold feeling.

“Whoops!” Quincy exclaimed, giggling drunkenly as she looked down at your shirt. “Looks like I’ve had too many.”

You laughed, feeling a little tipsy yourself. “I think you might be right.”

“Looks like the end of the night for her,” Dive chuckled, as she joined the two of you. “Want me to take her back to the ship?”

“No, it’s fine, I need to shower anyways,” you gestured at your shirt. “Before this gets all sticky.”

Dive nodded understandingly. "Alright then, I'll see you back at the ship. ‘Night cherry girl."

With Quincy's arm draped over your shoulder for support, the two of you made your way through the patrons towards the exit. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, a welcome relief from the warmth and noise of the crowded tavern.

As you walked, Quincy stumbled slightly, and you tightened your grip on her to keep her steady. Despite her drunken state, she was surprisingly light on her feet, her laughter echoing through the empty streets as you made your way back to the ship.

The journey back felt shorter than you expected, the familiar sight of the Victoria Punk looming ahead in the darkness. With Quincy's help, you climbed aboard, grateful for the safety and familiarity of the deck beneath your feet.

As you helped Quincy to her cot, you couldn't help but smile. She was a troublemaker and she got on your nerves half the time with her antics but she was your friend. You made sure she was comfortable and placed a bucket at her feet, just in case.

With Quincy safely tucked away, you made your way back up the deck with a change of clothes in your hands and your toiletries. You reached the showers, discarding your clothes and putting your things in a locker. You wrapped your body in your pink fluffy towel as you entered the steamed filled room.

You stopped in your tracks at the sight of your captain under one of the showers. He didn’t seem to notice you, water droplets flowed down his chest, his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape in pleasure. His hand was pumping up and down his dick. Metal scraps that usually made up his left arm littered on the floor. You startled in realization.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What did you do? You panicked. He hadn’t seen you yet. You started to turn away. That’s right you could just turn back and forget about this. No one had to know. Your foot caught on a wooden bucket in your sudden movement. A deafening clang rung in the silence of the room as it tumbled around.

“Fuck,” you squeaked and turned back to your captain. His lidded gaze was looking right at you. He was amused. Your eyes went to the floor.

Eustass ‘captain’ Kid had felt your presence far before you’d seen him. He hadn’t known it was you. No, that was just a pleasant surprise. Truth be told he didn’t mind being caught, hell they’d all seen each other in compromising situations a thousand times over. A ship was small and everyone had urges. Most of his crew had caught him dick in his hand at least a few times now. They’d usually just turn back and never speak of it again. But as he looked at your panicked form, clad only in a towel, he couldn’t help himself but grin.

“Captain,” you managed to choke out. You were stuttering some kind of apology, not daring looking him in the eye. Cute.

“You gonna help or you wanna watch?” He asked his voice low.

“What?” Your eyes shot up to meet his.

He cocked his head, his lips curved in a slow knowing smile. “You heard me, kitten.”

Damn right you’d heard him. Your mind was just struggling to keep up.

Your feet moved before your rational thoughts could decide otherwise, droplets from the shower head soaking your towel as you joined him under the stream of warm water. Your hand delicately settled on his chest as you looked up at him through your lashes. Satisfaction with your decision was clear in his eyes, pupils blown eclipsing their fiery color. His hand buried itself in your hair, leaning in for a kiss.

“Well?” he whispered against your lips, hot breath mingling with yours. He waited for you to make the first move.

Your gaze flickered against his features, taking him in. You leaned in, placing a tender kiss on his lips. His grip tightened in your locks, mouth moving against yours hungrily as he pressed your bodies closer to one another. Without breaking away, he spun you around trapping you against the wall, the cold wet tile a distant sensation as your entire being melted into his touch. His knee parted open your legs, you felt a soft pressure at your core.

“Captain,” you muttered against his lips, the sound somehow needy. “I don’t actually… really… know what to do,” you admitted shyly.

He stopped his exploration, body backing up ever so slightly as he looked in your eyes, gaze searching yours. His grip loosened. His forehead hit the cold tile of the wall next to your head as he deliberated over something. A soft ‘fuck’ reached your ear, and he suddenly withdrew entirely. Quickly turning off the shower, he wrapped a towel around his hips and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder none so delicately. His metal arm reconstructed itself as he walked.

You squeaked in surprise at the sudden shift in your vision. You attempted a small protest, but he was already on the move, striding past the door of the showers right onto the deck, the cool air of the night making the hairs on your body stand up. 

“Captain!” you screeched in embarrassment at your lack of propriety even though the ship was empty. 

His steps left damp marks on the wooden planks as he ignored your pleas, his hand tightening in the softness of your thigh when you tried to wriggle out of his grip. He took a quick turn. The metal door of his quarters swung open far before you even reached it and closed behind him just as fast.

You heard the lock click as he threw you unceremoniously on his bed. He looked down at you, hunger clear in his eyes. 

“You a virgin?” He asked. When you didn’t answer he continued, “cause I can work with that. Just need to know first.”

“I’m not,” You felt your cheeks turn pink. “It’s just been a while.” You felt bold under his gaze, the lust plastered on his features somehow emboldening you. Your hand slowly rose to the edge of your towel, undoing the small knot and revealing your naked form.

Kid tossed his head back, hooded eyes devouring you. “Fuck”, he muttered, “you’ll be the end of me.”

He leaned down over you on the bed. His lips found yours in a domineering kiss, biting and ravaging. You gave in, happily acquiescing to all his greedy requests, his tongue leading yours.

You moaned, everything feeling dizzy with desire. One of his knees parted your legs slightly, making space for him. His lips left yours, travelling to your jaw, down your throat, occasionally stopping for a soft bite. He seemed to be thinking about something, his attention both on you and far away. As he gave your nipple a small flick, one of your hands buried itself in his hair, the other on his arm for support as needy whimpers escaped you.

You felt the way his grin widened against your skin as he started shuffling downwards, kissing down your abdomen. Realization downed on you.

“Wait!” You cried out, almost panicky. He looked up at you, amusement tinging the glint in his eyes. “I-I’ve never…”

He chuckled, the gravelly sound sending shocks of electricity to your core. “I know, cherry girl,” he put emphasis on the nickname, a shit-eating expression stuck on his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of ya,” he continued, each word punctuated with a kiss.

You could feel his quiet exhales ghosting over your heat. Your breath caught in anticipation. His metal arm laced around your thigh, bringing it up over his shoulder, his cold steel hand resting heavily on your hip, pinning you down. He kissed the inside of your thigh, gaze never leaving yours. You looked away shyly. He bit down almost painfully, earning him a gasp.

“That won’t do kitten,” he drawled, “look at me”.

You obeyed, eyes snapping to him, the sight of him between your legs almost too much. Your cheeks heated.  

“Good girl,” he muttered against the softness of your skin.

Oh gods. You let out a depraved moan at the praise. Fuck. You liked that.

His eyes sparkled at your reaction. He kissed your thigh again, getting closer to your core. “Don’t ya dare look away, alright? You keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

You nodded, eager to please.

The thumb of his flesh hand swiped up your slit, parting your folds, playing with the slick positively dripping out of you. It settled right above your clit, pushing up the hood slightly. “So wet for me,” he commented. 

You opened your mouth to say you didn’t know what but his tongue met your heat first. A squeak at the new sensation passed your mouth instead. Your body tensed up, unsure how to react to the intensity of the pleasure wave coming over you. His mouth latched onto your clit, tongue working expertly.

Your hips bucked against his face but the weight of his metal arm pinned you down more firmly. You couldn’t help the begging mewls escaping your lips, incoherent pleas echoing against the steel walls. You moved your free hand to cover your mouth, embarrassed, but the way his glare turned dangerous made you drop it just as fast, fingers tightening in the soft fabric of his bed instead.

Pleased, he redoubled his pace. The hand you had on his head clenched in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you tried not to push down on him too hard. He groaned at the feeling. You could feel the grin on his lips more than you could see it as his tongue dipped lower, his thumb taking over the bundle of nerves momentarily as he explored your heat fully.

His tongue delved in and out of you as he increased the pressure on your clit. You let out a sharp cry at the intensity of the sensations, your breath struggling to find a normal rhythm at the ferocity of his onslaught. It was all so fucking much. Your hand twitched, hips trying to squirm away, white edging at your vision.

“Captain,” you moaned. “I’m close,” that feeling of ecstasy was just right out of your grip.

He hummed in understanding, stopping his exploration to renew his attention fully on your clit. Devouring you with an intensity you didn’t know possible. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to crash over you, swallowing you whole. But, he didn’t stop, tongue lapping as you rode out the waves.

Your body struggled to get out of his grip as pleasure started to feel too much against his unrelenting attention, an almost painful assault on your senses. Everything other than his lips at your core faded out of existence, the feeling bordering on distressing as your consciousness grappled to comprehend the surges of pleasure still washing over you. Your back arched, body tense as your hips sought to back away. The hand you had in his hair tried to push him off. It didn’t matter, he was stronger than you.

“One more for me, kitten,” He demanded.

His hand left your trembling thigh and dropped down lower, pushing one finger, then a second inside of you as his tongue continued his work. He pumped in and out of you lazily, the squelching sound obscene as he felt your heat twitch around him. Your breath struggled between sharp cries. It was too much. Your mind fell into oblivion as a second more intense orgasm hit you.

For a moment, it felt as though your soul had left your shaking body but then all sensations came back with a vengeance, threatening to steal away the rationality of your mind.

“Captain! Captain!” you sobbed, tears staining your cheeks. “Shit! Stop!” He didn’t. “Stop! It’s too much!” Panic laced the tone of your voice. He backed away a little, chin wet with your arousal, fingers still buried in your cunt, playing with your slick. You were panting, breath struggling to find its normal rhythm.

“Do you want to stop here, kitten?” He asked, softly biting your inner thigh.

“What? No!” Your words were frantic. “’’twas just too much, I…” you panted, “Just need to slow down for a bit” you answered between gasps, the world still spinning around you.

“Slow down, huh?” the grin on his lips was downright evil. The pad of his thumb found your clit, tracing soft small circles as he continued fingering you. “Can’t keep up with me? Kitten?” you whimpered, the tight feeling you had in your stomach coming back, begging for release as he carried on teasingly. “Thought you had fantasies ‘bout me.”

You averted your eyes shyly. “Fucking Quincy,” you muttered under your breath.

He chuckled. “Kitten,” his tone had a warning edge to it. “Didn’t say your eyes could leave me, did I?” He asked. You brought your eyes back to his. “That’s my girl, so good for me,” the praise elicited a moan out of you. He added a little more pressure to your clit, your walls fluttering around his fingers. You could feel your orgasm in reach.

So fucking close.

He stopped.

You couldn’t help the “No!” you squeaked when you felt the sweet promise of pleasure being taken away from you.

He laughed, a low rumble. “How about you tell me ‘bout those fantasies of yours? I might even let you come if they’re good.” He resumed the soft circles.

Your face felt hot. The feeling of humiliation at the thought of saying them out loud somehow turning you on even more. “I-I…” You hesitated. “I’ve thought about you, captain, fucking me for a while,” you committed to it. “When I brought you lemonade last time, I thought about you fucking me against the door of your workshop. How you’d slip my panties to the side and fuck me senseless. Maybe you’d bend me over that desk of yours and take me there too.” Just the thought made the promise of your orgasm return.

“Oh? Really?” He was clearly amused. His fingers didn’t stop. “That all?” he probed for more.

“Gods no!” Your high was growing and growing, all but the touch of his fingers and the scorching heat of his gaze felt fuzzy. “I’ve thought about riding you so many times. In a bed, even in that chair you always sit in. I’ve thought about how you’d sound as I move myself up and down your dick. I wondered if you would leave bruises on my hips as pleasure would take you.”

A hum caught in the back of his throat at the thought. You were so close. He stopped.

“No!” You screamed in frustration. “Please,” you almost wept, your high denied to you for a second time. He grinned.

“Go on,” He demanded, evidently entertained.

“I’ve also thought,” You started, suddenly feeling bashful at this one fantasy. “Thought about you using your powers on me. Pinning me down as you fuck me without mercy.”

Kid moaned. Loudly.

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise. The pressure of his thumb increased slightly. Emboldened, you continued. “Thought about you coming inside me, having your seed drench my panties, drip down my thighs as I have to carry on my duties on the ship.” 

The thought made your walls clench hard around his fingers, a desperate moan making its way out of your mouth. He didn’t stop this time, continuing the come-hither motion of his fingers as you rode out your high.

“Good girl, you did so well for me, kitten,” He said when your breathing stabilized. Gods, you could get addicted to this, the way his praises made you feel. “How ‘bout we make one of those a reality?”

“Wha-“ you didn’t have time to finish what you’d started to say. In a flash he’d expertly flipped you both around positioning you over his dick. He leaned up on his elbow, hand in your hair he crashed your lips together, teeth biting at your lower lip before his tongue darted in, exploring your mouth. You tumbled to his chest, his hard-on pressing against your core. You felt some of your slick cooled down by the air drip down your thigh, onto his cock.

He let himself drop on the bed dragging you with him. His metal hand sliding from your hip down your ass. “Captain,” you moaned against him as he squeezed plush flesh. Your own hand slipped between your bodies, grabbed his length. You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of nervousness at how big he felt against your fingers. It was no surprise, really, considering how massive he was compared to you. You gave him a few slow pumps, grip tightening against the tip. He tossed his head back at the sensation, an unabashedly loud moan escaping him.

“Kitten,” He almost begged. “I’m not sure I can continue being nice like that with you.”

His gaze was intense, filled with desire. You leaned back, lips leaving his, your other hand taking place on his chest for support. You studied his face as you brought his cock at your entrance. Gods. He was so pretty. You wanted to make him come in your hands but your need for him to be inside you was just as bad, if not worse.

“Captain, you’re big! Much bigger than what I’ve had before,” You stated, beginning to lower yourself on him, the tip already feeling like a stretch.

You heard a faint ‘fuck’ coming from his lips, stuttered swears uttered below his breath.

“I’m going to need you to be nice,” you whimpered as you slid down a bit lower. His hand settled on your hips digging hard, his self-restraint clearly starting to fray. Maybe it would leave bruises tomorrow. The thought made you moan, clench slightly around him.

“Going to need you to be nice for a bit,” you repeated. He groaned in somewhat acquiescence, eyes not leaving yours. Your voice went up an octave as you continued, “but I don’t want you to be nice.” You took him up to the hilt. “I want you to be rough. I want you to use me.” 

His red painted nails dug painfully into your soft flesh at your words. Yes! That would leave bruises. Good. “Just need you to let me get used to the stretch first,” you ended.

“Fuck, kitten,” He smiled as your walls fluttered around him. “You feel so fucking good.”

His hand left your hip, nails softly grazing down your outer thigh before soothingly going back up. An electric shock of pleasure went down your back at the sensation. You gave a tentative sway of your hips. Your nails dug into his chest, the stretch was so intense, but you thought you could take it. Your movements emboldened after a few ups and downs. Kid gave a low moan, tossing his head back against the covers, his own back arching slightly as he struggled to stay still. He was loud. He didn’t care. You felt pride to be the one getting these moans out of him this time around.

You smiled in satisfaction. Your thighs already trembling in pleasure. “Captain, fuck me! Please!” you pleaded.

He didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words left your mouth his metal hand secured you in place and his hips began to move in and out of you fast. His other hand traveled up your side to your breast giving playful tugs on your nipple. His gaze was as wild as the pace he’d set.

Your mind labored to keep up with the waves of pleasure coursing through you. Your breast bounced with each hard thrust. You moaned loudly every time his pelvis hit your oversensitive clit, your nails leaving red scratches all over him as you struggled to find purchase. You could already feel that you were close, but his pace was too fast for you to get any word in.

It was not like you had to tell him though. With the way you clenched and fluttered against him, he already knew. “That’s it kitten, let go for me,” he said between two moans.

It was all it took for you to do just that. Pleasure took over your senses, your wall squeezing him almost painfully.

“Fuck,” you heard him swear distantly, through the curtains of your high.

You slowly came back to reality. He was still going. You writhed in ecstasy.

“Shit, kitten, can I come inside?” He asked, urgency lacing his words.

Gods. “Yes!” you begged over and over again. It didn’t take him long to reach climax either. His grip tightened on your hips, and you felt his seed flood your womb as he moaned loudly. Hot sticky fluid seeped out of you, painted your thighs, mixed with your slick.

You were exhausted. He’s was still buried to the hilt inside of you as you dropped down on his panting chest. A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two of you.

A chuckle escaped him. “Shit, kitten,” he said between heavy breaths. “Would’ve done that much earlier if I’d known.”

You couldn’t help the smile that made its way to your lips. “You really only had to ask, captain,” you answered. His chest rose up and down in a deep laughter at that. You began to back away but his metal arm pinned you down against him.

“You know,” he started to say, his voice rough from your activities. “As much as you calling me captain makes my dick twitch, you can call me by my name when I’m balls deep in you, kitten.” His hand traveled up and down on your back, sometimes settling here and there, thumb soothingly drawing small circles.

“Kid,” you uttered shyly. How often had you daydreamed of calling him that? 

“That’s my girl,” he answered, his hand traveling up your back, finding its place at your nape, fingers tangling in your hair he guided your face towards his, locking your lips together. It was softer than the ones before, more considerate.

You moaned in his mouth, his metal hand found it was to your hip, squeezing your ass before pinning you still. You could feel his cock coming back to life buried deep within you.

“Kid,” you pleaded.

He smiled against your lips. “The night’s young, kitten. I’m just getting started with you.”

Your walls twitched at the growing stretch, you were oversensitive everywhere. “Fuck,” your breath caught.

He gave a tentative thrust into you, your whole body shuddering before he flipped you over, your back hitting the covers. He backed away momentarily, you felt empty without his cock stretching you. He took one of your ankles in his metal hand, bringing it to his shoulder. He reentered you at an agonizingly slow pace, clearly looking for something with each thrust. His flesh hand took your other knee, positioning it in different ways.

“K-Kid! W-what are you doing?” you couldn’t help but wonder.

He didn’t need to answer, you felt it first. The angle of his thrust made you see stars. A sharp cry escaped your lips, tears of pleasure threatening to flood your eyes.

“Ahh, there it is,” He roared in triumph.

With no warning he started pounding into you without mercy. His flesh hand left your leg once he was sure you’d anchored yourself, instead going to stimulate your clit.

You couldn’t control the sobs of pleasure that spilled out of your mouth. Your hands fought to find purchase in the covers of the bed, digging as hard as humanely possible as your entire body struggled to keep up with the ecstasy coursing through it.

“Kid,” you begged, as you came around him, walls spasming uncontrollably. He didn’t stop as you rode your high.

“You’re doing so well, kitten,” he praised you, between his own moans.

He left your heat for a moment when he felt you coming back to reality. He flipped you around. Your arms failed to keep you upright, your face burying itself in fabric instead. Drool and tears seeping in the soft cotton.

He reentered you, continuing his merciless pace. You felt your thighs tremble, your whole body tense and slack simultaneously. His metal hand kept your hips in place, flesh hand finding its rightful place at your clit. Your pleas were muffled, your nails digging in the covers harder than you thought possible. Your toes curled. You could only see white as pleasure flowed through you. When Kid came inside of you, your body dropped down heavily. You were so tired. You heard him say something but your brain didn’t register the words as you drifted to sleep.

The soft rays of the sun woke you up. You were laying down on your captain’s chest, his arm pinning you against him. You blushed as memories of your activities flooded your mind. 

Bathroom. You needed to go to the bathroom.

You tried to move his arm from you. Your whole body felt so sore. He groaned softly as you inched slowly out of his grip. Your legs almost gave out, feeling wobbly as you made your way to the bathroom attached to his quarters.

Your thighs were surprisingly clean, you spotted both yours and Kid’s towels in the hamper. He’d clearly used them to clean you up after you’d passed out. Your cheeks heated at the thought.

Fuck. You panicked. With your towel gone you’d have to find something else to wear as you’d run to your quarters for a change of clothes.

Your eyes landed on clothes scattered all over the room. You wondered if he would be angry if you borrowed one of his shirts. You picked one up from the floor, bringing it to you. You smiled. It smelled like him.

You slipped it on. It was big on you, easily covering you down to your thighs. You creaked the door of his quarters open, head peeking out to see how busy the deck was. No one was in sight. Good. You backed off, ready to make a run for it. A metal arm slammed the door closed before you could do anything.

“Did I say you could go, kitten?” Kid asked, trapping you between him and the door.

You let out a small, surprised squeak.

You turned around to face him slowly. You looked at him through your lashes, meeting his amused gaze. He gave your body a once over, clearly checking you out in his shirt. His flesh hand found its way to your thigh, nails grazing your skin as he roamed upwards, pushing the fabric in his movement.

“Good morning, Captain,” You mumbled shyly, “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so comfortable.” You rambled on, embarrassed.

A soft smile adorned his features. He leaned down catching your lips almost tenderly, lazily deepening the kiss. His fingers wandered against your body, knee finding its place in-between your legs, hands roughly palming your ass as he moved your bare cunt against his thigh.

You broke away, in need for air. “Kid,” you moaned.

He grinned, his kisses traveling to your neck. “I know it’s the wrong door,” he undid the first button of the shirt you were wearing. “But, If I remember properly,” he continued skillfully undoing button after button. “You have a fantasy involving me fucking you against a door.” The shirt opened, revealing your naked form. “What do you say, we make this one a reality too?”

Kid was fucking you senseless against the door when you heard someone knock against it. You tried to stifle your moans but that only made him redouble his efforts.

“The fuck you want,” Kid yelled between thrusts. “I’m. Fucking. Busy”

“Kid,” you heard Heat’s voice. “I lost the bet, so don’t get mad,” he pleaded. “But…” Through your moans, you heard Quincy say something along the lines of ‘go on, coward’. “Are we still setting sail today?” he asked.

Kid looked at you with a wicked grin. “Delay it for a few days,” he shouted between grunts. “I’ll be busy for a while.”

And he was busy for a while. When he finally let you go, it was with his fur coat draping your shoulders as you ran to your quarters, soft blush on your cheeks.

Fuck. You indeed looked magnificent in red.

← Previous chapter

[magickcandie]

I Want To Break Free

Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

You were invited to set by Roger. You had heard the song and loved everything about it; to John’s writing, Freddie’s singing, and you had heard that Roger decided on the theme of the music video. You assumed that somehow, a car would be involved. Boy were you wrong! When you were let in, you noticed John first in an old lady outfit with grey hair! Brian was seen next drinking tea in a set chair, wearing a pink nightie and rollers thrown in his curls. Of course seeing Freddie in a pink top and black leather skirt seemed so crazy, he seemed to be a natural in it. “You know, if you wanted to raid my closet, you could’ve asked!” You laughed. Doubling over, clutching your stomach as if that’s ease the pain of laughter. “Where’s Roger?” “I haven’t seen him yet. Maybe ask her.” John said, pointing to a blonde woman talking to a set director. You ignored the giggles coming off the boys and went over her. What you saw sent you into a fit again. When you tapped her shoulder, Roger turned and looked at you, smiling. A thin layer of pink lipstick on. “What’s… what’s going on!” You said in between laughs. You grabbed the counter to steady yourself but sunk to your knees anyway.

“I told you it’s make Y/N laugh!” Roger said, grabbing your hand and helping you stand again. “Roger set all of this up to try and get you to laugh. Or really seeing if you’d laugh.” Freddie leaned on John’s shoulder, throwing a leg in the air. “Don’t we all look great!” “You’re definitely something. The wigs, makeup, it’s all so great. You look beautiful,” you said to Roger, hooking his chin in your hand. “Kiss?” You leaned in to kiss him. “I’m staying for the entirety of filming. I wan to see how this plays out.” You laughed again, finding an empty chair to watch. And what a show it was. You had come to see John reading a newspaper and scowling at the others. Brian had a new costume piece; bunny slippers. Freddie danced around with a Hoover. God, this is why you loved these men. And especially Roger Taylor. Setting this up just to see you laugh and smile.

[fleet-of-fiction]

Josh Kiszka x Female Reader POV

Summary: You've had enough and want to go home. He's been gone for weeks, and you're desperate to enjoy your new house with your long-term love. You just want Josh all to yourself.

Warnings: Drugs. Alcohol. Dirty talk. Fingering. Oral sex female receiving. Edging. Oral sex male receiving. Rough penetration. Degradation. Choking. Throat play.

(Original post here)

"You wanna go home, get high and fuck?"

Josh slammed his glass down onto the table and scanned the bar for anyone who might have heard you.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, raking a hand through his facial hair.

You begin to pout. "You know tequila makes me horny."

He nods in agreeance, almost pleased with himself for insisting on slammers instead of sensible 'welcome home' drinks.

"I fucking love it when you're all tequila horny." He whispered, grabbing his jacket off the back of his bar stool.

It wasn't just the tequila, though. Josh had been gone for weeks, serving his time as everybody else's object of desire. You'd been willing yourself to wait until he returned before giving in to your own desires, not even touching yourself in the shower until he was back where he belonged. In the fixer upper you were still working on, despite moving in months ago.

There were still boxes waiting to be unpacked in the open spaces, pictures leaning against walls you hadn't nailed them to yet. Plants sat waiting to be watered on the stairs, and a kitchen that needed bringing into the current century.

As you opened the front door, greeted by your slow progress, Josh peeled off his jacket and threw it down on the unpacked boxes. Neither if you seemed to care that there was so much to do, not when you could meander through the chaos and do what you wanted instead of what you needed.

He slinked out of his emerald green jumpsuit as he made his way towards the back of the house, you following him with equal desire to be rid of your clothes. Dropping your white skirt and halter neck on the floor. On tip toes you grabbed two beers from the fridge, Josh padding around the cupboards with his bad posture and flat feet.

You couldn't stand it when he moved around like that. In his tight little boxer shorts, waving his arms around as he tried to remember where he'd put his stash. Almost like a little old man, so endearing and yet the shape of his body made you quiver. The way his stomach planed out at the waist, every breath straining against the elastic of his underwear. His chest soft and toned, casting shadows down his torso as he switched the kitchen lamp on. Those curved arms lifting behind his head as he stopped to think. His teeth gripping his lower lip, you could feel yourself lilting towards fucking him before getting high.

His eyes came to rest on your naked breasts and the tiny pair of lace panties that sat snugly against your thighs. He recalled buying them for you and a shit eating smirk began to curl on his upper lip.

"You wanna skip to the fuck part?" You asked, feeling the chill of the beer bottles against your skin.

He shook his head, errant curls falling around his face.

"I wanna get you in that frame of mind, first." He replied, opening the cupboard nearest and peering inside. "That one where you don't give a shit about anything and just let go."

You watched him click his fingers as he reached into the back of the cupboard, pulling out a bag of weed you hadn't even known was there. Benny and the Jets coming through the speaker on shuffle.

"Don't I always welcome you home like this?" You said rhetorically, rolling your eyes before tip-toeing over to the sun room, taking Benny and the Bluetooth speaker with you.

It was the only room you'd completed. Lined with glass panes from floor to ceiling, it had been the thing which made you beg Josh to buy the house. Pleading with him. Baby, I need this... knowing he would eventually see things from your perspective. And he had, when you'd introduced the slipper chairs and day bed. The low, warm lighting and church candles. The little mosaic table where you kept all your grinders and papers. And the fact that all the windows reflected the way you fucked him in the dark.

You popped open the beers and leaned back into one of the chairs, your knees up and toes gripping the edge of the green velvet. Josh sat opposite, deftly working to build a joint as you sipped on your beer, spectating.

"Every fucking night, I had to roll a joint just to sleep in that fucking bunk." He complained, easing himself back into home life. "Listening to Jake on the phone all night, all because he refuses to sleep until dawn."

You rested the head of the beer bottle on your lip and extended your foot out, caressing your pointed toes through his hair. He looked up at you as he rolled, his line of vision coming to rest on the material covering your pussy lips. As he licked the papers and twisted them shut, you nudged his cheek with the side of your foot playfully.

"You're home now, baby." You said softly, in the sort of voice you reserved for placating his worries.

He was so sweet to you, especially when he was fresh from the road. Desperate for his comforts and your body. You never grew tired of it, that feeling of longing for him coming to an end. Like an orgasm after being choked. He lit the joint and pursed his lips around it, exhaling upwards as you watched his throat flex.

"You wanna know a secret?" You asked, taking a long swig from your bottle.

"Always." He responded, passing you the joint so that he could take care of his own beer.

"I haven't even masturbated while you were gone." You said casually, pressing the joint to your lips and pulling hard.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair to appraise you. Mouth rounded at the hilt of his beer bottle, trying to think of a worthy response to something he knew you had done to make his homecoming fuck all the sweeter.

"Was that all for me?" He asked, edging the possibility that it wasn't.

You passed the joint back to him. "Just like every fuckin' thing else."

He laughed as he took the smoke back, a white cloud billowing out of his mouth as he tempered your humour with his own. He loved it when you teased him, when you played him as your king and you were at his service.

"You could have slipped a few fingers in while we were on the phone." He chuckled, "I really wouldn't have minded."

You could feel yourself begin to vibrate. That tingle on your skin and your vision beginning to flow like a painting as you moved your head. Your pussy was already throbbing, a tangible sensation of your body responding to the weed and to your beautiful boyfriend watching you closely.

"And miss seeing the way you're looking at me right now, I don't think so." You replied, locking his gaze with yours. "What you thinkin' about?"

"Putting my fingers inside you." He replied, taking a deep breath as he dashed the joint in the ashtray and sunk his beer.

He was hard underneath his boxers. He adjusted himself with the palm of his free hand as it sat against his thigh, thick and pulsating with the thoughts running through his head.

"Whatever you want." You sighed, feeling the heat of knowing how it felt inside you as you watched the tip peek out from the edge of the material.

His eyes were half closed, his mouth open to a pout. Everything felt slow when you were like this, even the words that slipped out his mouth sounded slow. When he was stoned it was like a part of his brain awoke from slumber, and you loved how he eloquently spoke of things he wouldn't dare say when he made love to you. He was still your sweet boy, but that demon which was yours whenever he came home took it's moment to shine.

"I want your pussy juice on my fingers." He said without hesitation, shoving the table aside in one swift movement.

He cleared the space between you, on his knees by the foot of your chair. He wasted no time in pushing your legs wide apart, revealing the wet crutch between the woven lace. He slipped it aside and his eyes widened. He moaned softly at the sight of it, your glistening lips freshly waxed and smooth.

"Sweet fucking jesus." He said breathlessly, cocking his head to the side as he took in the view. "You've been neglecting her."

You looked down at him between your legs, dizzy and aching for him to touch you.

"Pay her some attention, baby. Go on..." You urged, your voice a needy whimper.

The tip of his index finger flew down your wet slit, eliciting from your lips a primal moan that was all relief. You kept your eyes on him as he slipped his finger inside, the wetness of your cunt making a beautiful sloppy sound that made him hold his breath.

"I fucking love that sound." He told you, his voice almost breaking as he slipped a second finger inside and watched your entire body shake. "Yeah, you like that?"

Your bottom lip was planted firmly beneath your teeth, your resolve hanging there as you nodded and felt your toes curl over the edge of the velvet seat. You were dripping onto it, ruining the material but you couldn't stop yourself.

"I fucking love it, baby. Don't stop." You were begging now, feeling your arousal drag you into the pits of depravity. "You like how my pussy feels?"

He smirks at the way you check in with him, leaning up to kiss you while his fingers continue to pound into you. You feel his tongue glide into your mouth, his soft lips open against yours. You allow him to venture deep, your own tongue brushing back. He only kissed you like this when he was lost to his arousal. When he was so deeply turned on, all inhibitions were smoked away.

"So tight and warm." He replied, dragging his mouth away for a moment before returning to you with more force. "And so fucking wet..."

You were grinding into his hand now. "Put your tongue on it baby, please...do that thing I like..."

You could feel yourself wilt beneath his touch. As he pulled away from your mouth, his eyes watching your tongue rest against your lip he wore the face you loved the most. The serious one where his jaw was clenched.

"You want me to sing on your pussy?" He asked, drawing a gasp from you as he pulled out his fingers.

"Josh..." You breathed his name, tasting yourself as he inched his fingertips into your mouth. "Sing on it, please..."

He knew what you meant. Your hands flew to his curls as he buried his face between your open legs. Pushing your lips apart with juiced fingers, he pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit and began humming softly. Using the vocal techniques he had learned to keep his high notes belting out for longer, you felt his tongue begin to shudder against you.

He understood what you needed. Padding his vibrating tongue against your swollen clit, his voice rich and low as he moaned against your sweet cunt. Ever since he'd been taught how to carry his voice, he'd known it would translate well when his mouth was on you. It never failed to reduce you into a quivering wreck, your knees shaking wildly as his head moved back and forth. Your mouth breathing silent pleas you couldn't speak. The sound of him swallowing your wetness making you audibly whine.

"Talk to me, baby." He grunted between swills of his tongue probing inside your entrance.

You snapped your head back and felt his soft, warm flickering increase. "Damn it, Josh! You fucking know what you're doing to me..."

Rivulets of sweat trickled down your chest into your heaving cleavage. Your skin becoming sleek with it as you moved your hips against his working mouth. The swells of orgasm threatening to end you, sweeping up from your clit into your stomach.

Instinctively, you push him back with a careful foot. His body reeling, his face covered in your juice. His breathing is laboured, a look of devilish satisfaction painted across his face as he swallowed hard.

"You were gonna make me cum in your mouth, weren't you?" You surmised, catching the way he looked down at the mess he had made.

"I'm thirsty." He replied solemnly, raking his thumb over your clit to keep you edged. "But I can see you're in the mood for something a little darker."

"I missed you." You purred, "I want to make it last..."

He nodded sweetly, in that way he had about him. Josh moved so fluidly, his mannerisms almost like a dance. Even if he was being subtle, moving from one position to the next. As he began to rise, you were greeted with his bulge as he reached in and pulled his cock out of his boxer shorts. You leaned forward, helping him to pull them down as the tip of his penis brushed against your cheek.

He tapped it against your lips. "Why don't you open that pretty little mouth of yours and show me how much you missed me?"

You shuffled to the edge of the chair, your incessantly wet cunt drenching the velvet now. You hissed at the sensation of your clit against the soft upholstery. Gripping the base of Josh's cock as you rocked your hips against the edge of the seat.

Opening wide, you looked up at him. Through the valley of the trail of hair that reached up towards his navel, finding the way he looked back down at you almost more than you could take. He was wearing that clenched jaw again.

"I missed you too." He said, almost as an afterthought, tapping his head against the flat of your tongue. "Now, let me in...be my dirty girl for just a little longer."

Josh was deceivingly big. A secret only you carried. The way he carried himself belied the truth of his girth. You often watched him when he didn't know you were looking, imagining the size of his cock when it was hard as he carried out mundane tasks.

You stared down the length of it, marvelling at the blood coursing through the veins. The pinkness of his head as you sucked on it gently. Easing him into your mouth slowly, so that you could prepare your throat for the pounding you knew would come. Because that's the way Josh liked it when he was high. When he was overstimulated. When the filthy, intrusive thoughts spilled out.

He leaned down as you nibbled at his tip, grazing your teeth against the edge. it sent a shiver down his spine as he picked up the joint and lighter, reigniting it as you began working his base with your hand and sucking down on the end of his cock with your mouth.

Tilting his head back, he exhaled a plume of smoke as you rocked your head back and forth. He almost coughed on it as your nails brushed up against his balls. You knew his weakness, and he knew you were heading towards it as you lifted up his erection and pressed it against his stomach. Your tongue bearing down between his balls, slipping beneath to run up his taint.

"Oh, you little fucker...." He growled, taking a knot of your hair in his fist. "Dirty little bitch."

Bitch was reserved for moments like these. When he wasn't quite himself. When he was a version that was so far removed from who he was in the cold light of day sometimes it felt like you were fucking his alter-ego. The one he used to grace the stage. The one who manifested himself in rage fucks when something had pissed him off. And when he came home to you and got high, he was still the man you loved. But with an edge to him that excited you so completely still, to this day.

You're well versed in the girth and ridges of his cock that feel like home to you. All the versions of Josh that spill out of his mouth don't matter when you can feel the familiarity of him sliding down your throat. You hear a familiar sigh, a low and gutteral sound that lets you know he's lost for words.

A string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock as you pull away, rubbing your spit up and down his shaft.

"Say it again." You venture, jerking him so hard his entire body shakes.

There was something about him speaking to you like that which planted a seed in your psyche. You were safe with Josh. He took another drag of the joint, raising his head to blow out the smoke as he realised what you meant.

"Oh, you are in the mood for something a little darker tonight, aren't you?" He said, that same shit eating smirk from earlier returning to his mouth. "Get your mouth back on my cock right now, you filthy little whore."

You did as you were told, a high pitched moan escaping your lips before he rutted into your open mouth. He dropped the joint back in the ashtray, completely consumed by your request. His hands pushing your head into his crotch, determined to choke you until you begged for air.

You could feel him leaking down your throat. His salty, smooth pre-cum dripping down the back of your tongue. Your eyes were watering and your pussy throbbing so hard at the name he had called you. Whore... It made you feel as if you could ruin him.

"Take it down." He ordered, keeping your head locked with his entire cock buried inside your mouth. "That's my filthy little bitch whore, right there..."

When he released you, the air rushed to your lungs and you gasped for it. He stood back and watched your hands fly to your chest. He knelt down, wiping the tears that fell down your cheeks. Palpable panic in the place of arousal.

"Shit, baby..." He fussed, "I took it too far, didn't I?"

It took a moment to regain your composure, but when you did there was a reluctance to give up the darkness. His worry dissipated as you smiled, mouth covered in saliva and pre-cum. He ran his thumb across it, sealing a kiss as he pulled you off the chair completely.

Both of you languished on your knees, the rug pressed hard into your bony flesh. You picked up the joint from the ashtray and took the last few drags of it, blowing the smoke into Josh's waiting mouth. Sharing it, savouring it. Sinking into a kiss that was soft and pleasing.

"Fuck me nasty, Daddy..." You said with a wink, knowing it was the first time you'd ever called him that.

He clamoured at what to say. Almost stammering. "Fuck... you are something else tonight."

"Maybe I should abstain while you're gone more often." You suggested, trailing a finger tip down his chest.

There was no teasing in the way he needed you now. He rounded the back of your neck with his palm, pulling you in to another soft, romantic kiss. Feather light fingers guiding your waist to rest against his, his erection pressed into your stomach.

"I know you love me baby, I want this..." You reassured him. "You can fuck me as hard as you've ever wanted to."

"Yeah?" He gauged, running his hand down the side of your face.

"Haven't you ever imagined it? Holding me down until I beg? Has the thought never crossed that cavernous mind of yours?" You asked, parting the curls which fell about his forehead.

"I've imagined a great many things." He confessed, "Mostly while I'm jerking off in hotel rooms."

"If you were ever going to tell me, tonight is the night." You said, brushing his lips with the tip of your tongue, slowly edging it into his mouth and covering his lips with yours.

You gripped his cock tightly and he shuddered. Moving your hand up and down, forcing him to speak.

"Sometimes I think about fucking you in the ass from behind." He said, almost in whisper until your pace quickened at the idea of it. "And when I think about it, you cry out and beg me to fuck you harder and it always makes me cum so quick."

"Mmm'hmmm..." You continued, "Give me details."

His throat flexed as he swallowed. "Well, I just think about parting your ass cheeks and what my cock looks like all wet from being inside your pussy when I push it into your asshole. Oh god..."

You felt the warm trickle of him leaking down your curled fist.

"When I think about you, I always imagine what we're doing right now." You confessed right back. "Calling me your dirty little fuck whore, making me choke on your big fat cock."

He stifled a giggle as you described him. "The fuck did I do to deserve you, huh?"

"No, baby..."You murmured, leading him over to the day bed. "I'm the lucky one."

He placed slow, gentle kisses from your chin, down to your neck, stopping in the front of your throat to nibble gently. You may have stopped breathing, because you could no longer feel anything but his sweet caresses. A fever burned, starting in your stomach then spreading down to your core. A heat that threatened to start a fire if he didn't fuck you soon.

There was a glint of greed in his eyes as he lapped over your hard nipples with his tongue. As if he knew what he was doing, but he would have this first. Laid side by side, surrounded by soft woollen throws and embroidered cushions, he pulled your leg up to his hip and his hand flew to your throat.

"You want me to fuck you nasty?" He clarified, moving his hips so that the tip of his cock languished at your entrance.

"Just fuck me Josh, I need it..." You begged.

His hand gripped harder, fingers digging into your neck. His cock slipped inside you, stretching you after the weeks he had been parted from you. He filled you up whole, his pubic hair rubbing against your pussy lips as he thrust.

"Is this what you want is it? To be fucked like the little dirty bitch that you are?" He asked, keeping his grip on your neck as he pummelled into you.

Your entire body was jerking against him. The heat in your belly reaching out for the rest of your body, muscle and sinew, aching at what he was doing to you.

"Yes..." You cried, "Fuck me so good, Daddy please..."

Oh, he liked that. It pleased him greatly to be the one in control. You could see it in the way he couldn't stop himself from that half-smile. That cocky side-eye.

"Filthy little fuck whore..." He breathed, his pace so quick all you could hear was your own panting against the wetness and sloppy sound of him hitting your wet pussy so hard.

He countered it with a few mutterings of beautiful and love, which spurred you on just as hard as the degradation. More than that though, was his desperation. The way he thrust into you, never breaking eye contact, never releasing your throat. He moaned so melodically you could only imagine how it must have felt for him.

You told him when you were close. Your walls clenching hard against his thrusting shaft. Every inch being taken rough and hard. You could feel when he was nearing the end, too. He loosened his grip and his thrust became more deliberate. Holding his cock inside you a little longer after each one. As if baiting his own cum to spill out.

"I love you, Josh..." You whispered between his primal grunting.

He released as he said back. "Fuck....I love you, too..."

He was still pumping his cum into you as you felt yourself let go. Both of you chiming in unison as you came down. He'd never looked more fucked out and beautiful as he did then.

"So..." You said, still catching your breath. "You wanna go back to the bar?"

The End.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289

[theeccentricraven]

The 15th Day of Writemas🎅🎄🤶🍒🤍

Another merry day of Writemas is here! Thank you @agirlandherquill for setting up this tag game/writing prompt/writer challenge for the holidays ❤️To find the rules of this tag, go to the invitation post. Today on Day 15 I chose the setting prompt "A stage". I figured I would use it to rewrite this scene from my YA Dystopia The Blood Cleaners. I was able to greatly improve this scene from the previous version. 👩‍💻

_________________________________________________________

Miriam’s gig was a family lounge. The tables and chairs were mostly filled by surfacer families. Administrators wore suits and dresses. Accountants and operations agents dressed in “business casual” attire. Some wore the surfacer version of uniforms for law enforcement officers, teachers, doctors, and couriers. Their children wore no uniforms, clad in jeans and cotton t-shirts.   

Justin quickly noticed the difference between the warm, homely surface lounge from the cold, rusty tunnel lounges. He sat in a booth with Elena and Joselyn. They were a peculiar group in the crowd, no doubt perking curiosity over the two tunnel street cleaners and farmer girl. 

A skinny dark-haired man sat at a piano, playing a few folk tunes. He entertained the first hour as the patrons ordered their dishes. When the servers had served most of the patrons, the piano music stopped. The pianist stood up and held a microphone. 

“Hey, mis amigos! We’ve got a new dancer here tonight. You’re sure to love her!”

Miriam’s wobbly feet walked on the stage . She wore the lounge singer uniform for a girl her age - a pink dress with puffy sleeves and a skirt that went down to her knees. Her brown ringlets fell to her shoulders. Her feet fit in rhinestone covered pink slippers. The patrons applauded. Miriam looked down, hiding her blushing.

She turned her eyes to the booth where Elena, Justin, and Joselyn sat. Elena put her hands to her lips. Justin smiled and waved. He gave a thumbs up and mouthed, “You’ve got this.”

Miriam put on her grin and curtseyed. 

The pianist played the familiar tune of Corpa’s anthem. Miriam skipped on her feet and let out her tap dancing skills. She sang.

“We weep the tears of the wrongs we carry,

By our ancestors long ago. 

In the cruel wasteland there's a light of hope,

By the hands closing over our sorrow.

Our fathers break the chains,

Freeing us from pain,

Destroying misery and woe.

We build a new life,

Free from angst and strife,

Where the fathers would have us go.

May Corpa be a land of prosperity,

Kept by the hands of our fathers.

They give much to us and so we give back,

By our sacrifices and our labors.

Our fathers break the chains,

Freeing us from pain,

Destroying misery and woe.

We build a new life,

Free from angst and strife,

Where the fathers would have us go.”

She ended with her arms open wide. 

The patrons applauded. 

Miriam smiled as she skipped off the stage to backstage.

Elena’s face was bright, possibly because of the bowl of chicken soup, but Justin could tell Miriam impressed her mother.

“All of that practice paid off,” Elena said. 

“She’s good,” said Joselyn as she cut her chicken. “How often will she work here?”

“Once a week,” Elena explained. “She still has to go to school when it’s in session and work as a cleaner, but she will get to perform here every Saturday night. Possibly a couple of other nights when school is not in session.”

“I hope she doesn’t work too much,” Joselyn said. 

“I would never let her,” said Elena. “Between Miriam at this joint and Justin as a blood cleaner, we’ll make end’s meet, but I don’t want to lose either of you in the process.”

“Hey,” Justin spoke up, “Miriam knows what she’s doing and so do I. Not to mention, working at this joint will help her score entertainment positions in the aptitudes. She could get here full time.”

Joselyn rolled her eyes. “Unless the Fists say they don’t need any more entertainers.”

 “She’ll prove herself,” Justin said confidently.

“It won’t matter,” Joselyn said, looking down at her food. “Only they can choose her future. They won’t let it be what she wants if it’s not in the best interest of Corpa.”

Justin leaned over to Joselyn’s ear and whispered. “Jos, be careful what you say in a place like this. Someone could hear you.”

She whispered in his ear. “I’m far from what the law calls usurpation. People complain about the Fists all of the time.”

“You’ve heard the horror stories,” Justin added. “I’d never sing the anthem unless I get paid like Miriam, but if things stay as they are, they won’t get worse.”

“I know it could be worse,” Joselyn whispered back. “I don’t think we need to use that to dismiss when the Fists fall short of the promises they make in that anthem.”

“I hear you,” said Justin, “but they’re not our ancestors who dropped the bombs and they keep the lils from consuming this place.”

“Have they really helped with that?” Joselyn said quietly. “Or are they taking credit for our work?”

Justin  shrugged. “I don’t know Jos. It’s just….I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Joselyn smirked. “Jus, you worry so much about me. I should be worried about you.” She sipped her drink of cola while eyeing him.

“Hey,” Justin said grinning, “we’ll go break the rules on our own time.”

“Now, Jus! Shhhhhhhhhh!” she put her fingers to her lips.

Elena cocked an eyebrow as she looked up from her plate. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” Justin snickered as Joselyn chuckled under her breath.

Miriam walked up to the table. Her dress and smile glimmered under the ceiling lights.

“Miriam!” Justin declared. “You rocked!”

Joselyn clapped. Elena opened her arms. Miriam hugged her.

“I'm so proud of you,” Elena said. “I wish Deirdre were here to see you.”

“I feel like Deirdre is here, Mamá,” Miriam said.

“Oh, I feel the same,” Elena said as her tears fell to Miriam’s shoulders.

Justin looked around, wondering if any of the teachers nearby would step up to remind that spirits and ghosts don't exist. Miriam stepped up to him with arms extended. He opened his arms as she hugged him.

“Thank you big brother,” she said as she dug her face in his shoulder.

____________________________________________________________

Tagging!

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@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @late-to-the-fandom

and Open!

[cheatsykoopa98]

its 4 AM and im trying not to freak out, let me write something to see how I feel

Her eyes opened and closed repeatedly, slowly. The dim light coming from the window let her know that it was daytime, everything felt so fuzzy. What had happened? What time was it? Her arm reached to her side looking for something on her counter. Glasses? Phone? She didn't know for sure yet. Slowly she realized, this was not her room, it was clean, white walls with a brown carpet. She sat by the side of the bed, still not fully awake, feeling the soft carpet on her feet. It then came to her: She needed her glasses, and quickly reached for them again. A yawn overcame her and as her thoughts became clear, she noticed her surrounding. It was a very tidy bedroom, with horse decorations on the counter by the other side of the bed. Figurines and a small pony plushie sat by it. The half open closet door had a coat hanger with skirts and sweaters on it, barely visible coming out of it. She scratched her eyes under her glasses. Another yawn. It had been long since she felt so... Calm? Paying no mind to the apparently unfamiliar bedroom, she moved her feet around the sides of the bed, looking for any kind of footwear. She felt the rubber of a sole under the bed. Her crocs. Quickly she put it on with only her foot, while the other moved around looking for the pair. Another object touched her foot, a soft one, a slipper. Slightly bothered but too lazy to find each pair, she finally got up, opening the bedroom door. The morning sunlight blinding her for a second before her eyes adjusted to it. She could hear a faint noise not tol far away, the sound of someone talking, and the smell of food being prepared. Following it, she found the kitchen. The smell of grease from the fried eggs with bacon got to her nose and made her realize how hungry she was.

"Uh... Hello?" She muttered with a grumbly morning voice. Her head was still not wrapped around everything. It felt so comforable yet so alien. As if she had travelled to a different culture and was kindly taken in by some nice hosts.

"Oh did I wake you up? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't leave my phone so loud..." A woman in her 30s took notice of her. She was making breakfast while listening to the morning news on her phone, quickly grabbing it and turning off the livestream it was tuned to.

"Don't worry..." She muttered in response. She tried to take a closer look at the woman. She had curly reddish brown hair, small lips and a round nose. Her face was filled with freckles that were clearly visible despite her tan skin. What took some time to notice, though, was everything about her eyes. At first she thought she was seeing things, but upon looking more and more she could confirm. One eye blue, the other brown, both very bright. Even with her tired face one could see genuine happiness in them.

"Am I... Dreaming?"

"Aaw, you're still a little sleep groggy! Come here" The woman with bright eyes pulled a chair, inviting the other to sit down. As she did, the woman put a plate and silverware in front of her, with fried eggs and bacon.

"I think I don't usually have breakfast, but... Thank you" She tried to smile, but she was still confused. She had to ask.

"Is this really not a dream? I'm... not sure what to think"

"Oh, well... I can't say I do either, honestly" The woman responded. "If you don't like it I can make something else! I can go out and buy..." The woman suddenly appeared to be getting nervous.

"No, this is good, but... Where am I? I remember the circus..." Suddenly the woman held her hand.

"The circus is gone Pomni... I mean, Pam. Everything is fine now" It was all clear now. Pam. Pamela! She had escaped that horrible nightmare. This wasn't just some woman, it was her wife. Tears came to her eyes.

"Oh... You're right..." Pamela smiled a bit, feeling whole while taking one of the bacons to eat.

"I know it's our first day out of the hospital, I just wanted to make it special, you know? I don't like thinking you're having a bad first experience..." Annie tapped her fingertips on the table nervously.

"Rag... Annie... This is delicious, did you know that?" Pamela had a bigger smile on her face, a genuine one she couldn't have afforded for years.

"Look... I'm sorry, this is all so new to me... I just... Thank you..."

"Hey, it's all cause I love you!" Annie winked and did finger guns at Pamela's direction, waving them around in a "get it?" motion. Pamela giggled. They kissed.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long..." Pamela muttered close to Annie's lips, as they both smiled looking at each other passionately.

"We'll be doing that a lot, new stuff" Annie smiled as they kissed once more. Suddenly, Annie's phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, getting both of their attention. Annie picked it up, looking at the screen, a familiar number

"It's work stuff" She showed the phone screen to Pam, rolling her eyes, to which she giggled a bit.

"Hello?"

As Annie talked on the phone, her usual look of happiness faded. Whatever she heard shook her. She fell sitting on the floor, sliding down the side of the counter. Pamela jumped in to aid her wife.

"W-What happened?! What did they say?!" She questioned, anxious and scared. Maybe she did not want to hear the answer.

"A new adventure is about to begin! And what circus is complete without it's performers?!"

"w-what?"

"It's time to come back, Pomni! Your time out is on time out!!!"

Pamela looked behind her. No kitchen. No house. Just the monstrous, gigantic dentures and millions of eyes everywhere, looking at her. The mere sight of it was enough to make her dizzy. Looking closer, she realized she stood atop a giant pole, ready to jump into a tiny pool.

"Caine... What the..." As words couldn't leave her throat. Where was Annie? Pomni spun around trying to find her, only to lose her balance and fall.

She couldn't scream, for her lungs were filled with tears, and with a gurgling noise, she hit the floor next to her couch. A dream. There was no daylight. She remembered this place. Her run down apartment. All she could afford. Her clothes scattered on the bed, waiting to be folded. Paper bags from groceries she forgot to take out close to a full trash can. The living room illuminated by her phone, which she was watching videos on before falling asleep.

She was breathing heavily, her eyes jolting around, looking for danger anywhere, but still she was unable to move or turn around. Just shaking and moving her eyeballs. She bit her nails and scratched her cheeks. It was like second nature to her. She felt like crying, but was too scared to let her guard down.

That is, until she felt a hand touching her hair. It was clumsy, but still soft.

"Hmrr... Are you ok, Pam...?" A sleepy voice grumbled. Annie's voice, much to Pamela's surprise. As it slowly came back to her.

"I... Had a nightmare... About the circus again..." She said with teary eyes. Annie grumbled something she couldn't make out, before slowly pulling Pamela back to the couch, closer to her. She could feel Annie's soft skin and soothing smell. Her soft carressing on her hair. The safety and warmth of her embrace. Slowly but surely, she felt home.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Throwing your shoe at them—headcanons

a/n: maybe had a little too much fun creating these scenarios, oops (again, thank you 🩰)

warnings: all round suggestiveness, hinted somnophilia w/ Eris, slight ‘enemies to loves’ vibes with Lucien

Azriel:

“The last time your legs were shaking this badly—”

“Don’t you dare.” You hiss, glaring up at him with fire blazing in your eyes from where you’re lying on the floor, downed by the exercises he put you through.

He crouches at your side, the heel of his palm pressed leisurely against his cheek, glancing down at you smugly, a glint in his hazel eyes.

“I thought you liked it when I pushed you over that edge,” he muses, that obnoxiously prideful look on his features.

Outrage pounds through your blood as you stare up at him with an open mouth.

He raises a provoking brow, a smirk curving his mouth. “Continuously.”

“You shut your mouth, Shadowsinger,” you snap, hands tightening into fists as you try to get to your feet. “I’m done for the day.”

He huff a low laugh, getting to his feet. “Five more. Then we can stop.”

He pauses, turning to glance at you over his shoulder, a smug grin on his mouth. “I could make you do more, if I wanted.”

The boot is off your foot and flying through the air before either of you can blink, and his shadows seem to intentionally dart away, allowing it to pass into his personal space.

Azriel catches it—barely in time—shooting a fed-up glance to his shadows, that has a spark of triumph lighting in your chest.

His attention switches to you, marking your expression, something hungry flitting through his gaze, wings flaring slightly at his back with male interest. Then his mouth curves at the edges, tossing the boot back, turning to stand beside you, again crouching down.

“Fine. You want to be a brat, that’s fine,” he murmurs lowly, having heat unspool in your lower abdomen. “But you’re doing ten more. Then I’ll really make your legs shake.”

Cassian:

“I think this one will look lovely,” Cassian remarks, holding up the red dress with a deep cut down the neckline that plunges to the base of your sternum.

“The colour won’t go with my earrings,” you reason, holding up the gold and emerald earrings you’d picked out for the night, appropriate for the dinner being held at Spring—making efforts to mend relations after centuries of unfriendly silence.

“I was thinking for me, actually,” Cassian counters, holding the lovely fabric up to himself, splaying out the skirts.

You pause, fingers poised to set the clip into your hair, before setting it down and turning to him. “Cassian…” you begin slowly, “I’m sure you’d look wonderful, but that was given to me by Mor, so you will not be getting your hands on it. You’d rip it to shreds.”

“Maybe if it was on you,” he returns lowly, eyes taking on a hungry gleam, dress lowering as his mind wanders elsewhere.

“Keep it to yourself,” you laugh, “we have a dinner to go to tonight, and I need to get ready.”

“I know something you could do a lipstick test on.”

You gape at him. “And where did that come from?”

“I listen to the things you talk about,” he counters, putting the dress aside as he walks over to you, sat prettily at your vanity. “I pay attention to every single word that comes from that lovely mouth of yours.”

You flush, something about his tone having heat warming your lower abdomen.

He smirks, leaning closer, bracing one hand on your vanity, the other on the back of your chair. “Every, filthy, word.”

Laughter breaks from your chest, grabbing one of the slippers you’d been trying to sew a pattern onto and throwing it at him. “I’m serious, Cass! I need to get ready. Don’t try to distract me.”

He chuckles, standing up, stepping back with a smile in his eyes. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding his hands up as he retreats. “I’ll let you get on with your routine.”

You roll your eyes, but return to the mirror, a smile warming your mouth.

“I’ll save the teasing for dinner.”

Eris:

Sunlight burns into your lids, and you groan, shoving your head under the pillow. “Eris please, I’m begging you to learn the concept of sleeping in,” you moan, pulling the cushion tighter as you snuggle beneath the duvet.

“If the sun’s up, so should you be,” he reminds, coming to a stop at the side of the bed, trying to pry the pillow from your clutched fingers, having to rip it away, making you whine, shying from the light.

“It’s not that bad,” he mutters fondly, pulling the duvet back and you make a show of shivering, his rosey lips cutting up faintly at the corners. “Maybe if you weren’t reading so late into the night this would be easier for you.”

You glare up at him, curling tight into a ball to preserve as much warmth as you can, rolling into the heat of the soft mattress. “Maybe if you didn’t get up so early you’d be able to stand late nights,” you grumble, finally getting up as he walks away.

“You know, early mornings wouldn’t be so awful if it was something else getting up with the sun,” you muse, legs swinging over the side, feet sliding into warm slippers.

“We both know you’d be drooling all over the place and half asleep,” he scoffs, back to you as he glances through your wardrobe.

You gasp, brows pulling together in an offended fashion, grabbing a slipper and launching it across the room, watching with distinct satisfaction as it smacks into the back of his head.

Eris pauses, as if registering what happened, before he glances over his shoulder, looking down at the shoe, then back to you. Unimpressed. “Am I wrong?”

You huff, folding your arms over your chest indignantly. “Maybe I’d like that…”

Eris stiffens, arms pausing as the confession slinks down his spine. “Maybe you’d like that,” he repeats quietly, taking a moment to comprehend.

Then he nods to himself, turning to peer at you over a broad shoulder, a mischievous gleam in his swirling amber eyes.

“Perhaps we’ll try that out…”

Lucien:

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say slightly tersely.

“He didn’t have to put his hand on your waist, either,” Lucien counters smoothly, but the tightness to his jaw belies his casual calm.

You look away, posture rigid as he walks you toward your chambers, escorting you politely. “I thought he was rather dashing,” you muse lightly, watching through your peripherals.

“Is that so?” He muses with equal lightness. “I think your standards should be raised. At least higher than a limbo bar.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy, Vanserra?” You remark, keeping your gaze off him as you open the door, allowing him entrance as you walk further into the room.

“Not in the slightest,” he drawls, though you can feel his gaze burning into your back. “Rather, I had assumed you were a lady of substance.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, not quite able to keep the snappiness from your tone.

“If all it takes is a light touch to your waist to prepare you for bed…” he responds lowly, and you’re able to hear the smirk on his mouth.

“Finish that sentence, Vanserra,” you say sharply, turning to where he’s stood by the door. “I dare you.”

His lips quirk, gaze a little more intense than before, and a surprising heat blossoms across your skin as he practically strips you naked, his eyes sweeping over you.

“I think your mind will provide ample endings there,” he remarks lowly, the light catching on the sharp canines that have dragged over your shoulder.

You seethe, nails biting into your palms as you glare at him from across the room. “You should learn when to keep your mouth shut.”

“I think you enjoyed my mouth being open.”

The heel shoots across the room with such force it thuds against the swiftly closed doors, being thrown hard enough to almost lodge into the ornately carved wood.

You hear him chuckling in the hall, thighs pressing together at the delicious sound.

“If you’re in need of a reminder…” he calls through the door, and you throw the other shoe, this one indeed lodging in the wood, calling another low laugh from his chest as he at last leaves you to your own devices.

Leaving your blood boiling and a flustered heat over your cheeks, traitorous arousal warming between your things.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[shadowdaddies]

imagine rhysand helping reader get dresses and he’s in such a fashion icon mood. i mean his mother was a seamstress so no wonder he dresses amazing. He helps reader pick out and style stuff and says stuff like

” no this would look better with that ”

” yes you just need some accessories ”

” try it with these heels instead ”

and him and the shopowner stand next to eachother looking through fabrics, looking so concentrated with reader just chilling on the chair knowing rhys will pick out immaculate stuff

Thank you to everyone who sent in fluff requests! I'm so excited to work on these💜

LOL I love this idea, I immediately thought of this gif from Crazy Stupid Love. He's so Rhys coded

Dress Shopping

Rhys x Reader

“What about this one?” you teased, holding up the frilly yellow floral dress for Rhys to see. You gave a little twirl, pausing to laugh at the look of disgust on his face. “That would be a perfect dress if we are ever exiled in punishment to the Spring Court, darling.” Rhys turned back to the rack of sleek dresses he’d picked out for you, pulling a shimmery iridescent gown and turning to you. It was breath-taking. 

“Unfortunately, darling, there is not a dress that could compare to my mate’s beauty, but I would love to see you in this,” Rhys purred, his eyes raking up and down your body before taking your hand and leading you to the fitting room. “Try this one on, love, and I’ll be right outside.” 

You slipped into the dress and laced up the back, turning to see yourself in the mirror. It was the most beautiful you’d ever felt, like you were wearing a molten diamond. You wanted to run outside just like this and never take it off. You stepped out to show Rhys, and his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you. He gave an approving grin, and you whirled around for him, tossing the skirts of the dress, “What do you think, Rhys? I say we get this one. It’s perfect as is.”

Rhys gave you an incredulous expression. “Darling, of course we’re getting that dress, but you need shoes and accessories.” You looked down at the plain slippers you were wearing. “I could just wear these with the dress, they look fine.”

Rhys pinned you with a flat look. “My dear High Lady, you never look just ‘fine,’ and we will not be pairing those shoes with that dress.” He strode over to the wall filled with accessories, grabbing a belt, necklace, stacks of bracelets, and rings before swiping a pair of silver strappy heels. “Sit, darling,” Rhys said as he knelt before you, adorning you with jewelry and putting on the shoes for you. You walked over to the mirror, Rhys coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. “Beautiful,” he breathed. You turned and smiled at him, giving a soft kiss. “So are you ready to go home?” you asked him. 

Rhys chuckled as he playfully flicked your nose and turned back to sorting through the jewelry displays. “Oh, darling. We still have all these dresses to try, and accessories and shoes, and we’ll have to have crowns made for each one.” You sighed and shook your head, smiling as your mate ushered you back into the dressing room while he picked out shoes for the next dress.

[clockwork-ashes]

@sjmromanceweek

Summary: Elain knows how important the little things are when it comes to her relationship with Lucien.

Elain was humming softly to herself, bright sunshine streaming in through the windows of the small kitchen as she stood on the tips of her toes, grabbing the sugar from the highest shelf.

Lucien had stayed up late the night before, had thrown himself into their bed and had fallen asleep right after giving her a goodnight’s kiss. Lucien had even woken up earlier than usual that morning to close himself in their shared study, not even bothering to eat breakfast.

Elain knew that Lucien was working on finalising a trading contract between the solar courts, and while she cared very little over the details of such business, Elain cared very much about how overworked her husband seemed to be as of late.

Elain would have to speak to Helion about it, she thought.

Adding sugar and milk to her tea, and a lot less sugar and a lot more milk to Lucien’s coffee, Elain checked the time. She had lunch with Nuala and Cerridwen in an hour, something the three of them did every time Elain found herself in Velaris.

Elain stirred her tea and then Lucien’s coffee with the same spoon before she tossed it carelessly into the sink. She always appreciated when Lucien would bring her tea, just the way she liked it, to her desk as she worked, and Elain did the same for him. It was nice, and oddly very flattering, when your partner knew just the way you liked things, Elain thought.

Tucking a stray curl of hair behind her arched ear before grabbing both her and Lucien’s drinks, Elain continued to hum as she made her way to the office. She didn’t bother knocking, bumping the door open with her hip.

Elain had been expecting Lucien to be actively reading over his papers, or furiously scribbling suggestions in the margins of the contract he’d been editing for the past week. Elain had not been expecting Lucien to have fallen asleep, using his arm as a pillow, as he leaned in such an uncomfortable position on his desk.

Elain breathed a small laugh as she walked towards Lucien, setting the drinks down but out of his reach just in case he decided to wake up.

“Lucien,” she said softly, not exactly a whisper but not loud enough to startle him either. Making her way to his side, Elain placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She took a moment to appreciate how lovely he looked when he was resting. “Lucien, wake up.” Surely his back would hurt the way he was sitting, better to wake him up now and send him off to bed, Elain told herself.

She heard Lucien’s sharp inhale and the clicking of his golden eye. “I’m awake,” he mumbled, shifting in his chair, turning his head to blink up at her sleepily.

“I told you, you’ve been working too much,” Elain declared, eyebrows raised.

“I’m awake,” Lucien repeated, blowing a strand of wine-red hair away from his face. “I was just resting my eyes.” He attempted, and failed miserably, to straighten some of the wrinkles on the sleeve of his white shirt.

“Mhm,” Elain rolled her eyes in response, taking hold of her skirts and sitting on the edge of her husband’s desk. “I brought you your coffee.”

Elain had come to find that it really was the little things that made her marriage truly wonderful, knowing each other so well that the mundane and everyday became special.

Lucien smiled at her, the smile that still managed to bring a blush to Elain’s cheeks. “Did you get home from your lunch?”

Elain knocked her slipper-clad foot against Lucien’s leg. “It’s not even noon yet,” she lifted her tea cup to her lips, watching as Lucien scrunched his nose rather charmingly.

“Maybe I have been working too much.” He brought the mug of coffee Elain had left on his desk to his own lips, sighing and relaxing into his chair. “How do you always manage to make the coffee taste like it does in Autumn?” He wondered, more to himself than to Elain.

Lucien did not have to know that she asked Eris regularly for whatever coffee they used in the Forest House, Elain thought. She flashed him a smile as she lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. Leaning towards him, Lucien met her half way so Elain could kiss him softly.

“I make it with love.”

[nomie-11]

Chapter 23 - Between the Fading Stars and Fireworks

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CONTENT WARNING: my shitty second attempt at writing smut!

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As the final burst of fireworks faded into the night sky, Genevieve lingered in the warmth of Xaden’s embrace. The intensity of their moment was a sharp contrast to the cool winds whipping around them, but for once, the chill didn’t penetrate. She pulled back slightly, gazing into his dark eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty, but all she found was an unwavering resolve. 

“Come on,” she urged, tugging at his hand, eager to lead him away from the parapet. The night had been a battlefield of emotions, and she wanted to take him somewhere they could breathe, somewhere safe. “Let’s go back to your room.”

His eyes shifted back to where he was just sitting. Even after all of it, he wants to stay out here and wallow. He shakes his head and looks away. 

“I’m not in a place to take care of anyone tonight. And yes, I know it’s a shitty thing to say, since your dad also died and it’s the anniversary of losing Quinn–”

“I know,” she says softly, her hands sliding down his arms. “Come with me, Xaden.”

“Gen…” His shoulders dip, and the sadness that permeates the air between them puts a lump in her throat. 

“Trust me.” She steps back out of his arms and takes his hands. “Come on.”

A moment of tense silence passes before he nods once, moving forward and holding her steady as she turns around. “You’d think I’d be better at this than last July, but shattering your leg does kind of kill your balance.” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood after what was easily the best kiss of her life. 

“I remember you running across the parapet last July,” He stays close, one hand on her waist as she walks the last part of the parapet. “It’s hard to beat that in a dress.” 

“It’s a skirt, technically,” she says over her shoulder, only feet away from the wall. 

“Eyes forward!” he grumbles, and it's only the fear in his tone that keeps her from running the parapet for the second time. The second they’re in the confines of the walls he spins her around, his face to hers. “Don’t ever put your life at risk over something as trivial as talking to me again.” It’s as low as a growl against her ear, and a shiver runs down her spine. 

“Next year is going to be so much fun,” she teases, walking forward from him, not bothering to counter his statement. She laces his fingers with his so he follows, and the motion is foreign yet familiar to the two of them. 

“Liam will be here next year to make sure you’re not doing asinine things,” he mutters. 

“You’re going to love getting his letters,” She promises, jumping the final foot off the parapet to the courtyard below. Glancing around, she registers the empty courtyard where Garrick and Bodhi just were. “Garrick and Bodhi were just here.” 

“They probably know I’m going to kill them for letting you out there. A dress, Genevieve? And barefoot? Really?” 

She shrugs, just taking his hand again and heading across the courtyard. He knows where they are going—up to his room on a path she’s walked time and time again. His room isn’t even warded against her anymore, and she heads right to his door, her hand steady on the doorknob. 

The door feels uncharacteristically light under her weakened arm, and she knows he’s even warded the door to be lighter. He warded the door to be lighter so she could enter his room whenever she wanted. 

The room is as familiar as it always is. 

His boots are still in a pile by the door, and she tosses her slippers into the pile as well. His weapons are still hung on a rack right above the desk on the wall to the right of the door, and she unstraps the daggers from her own body, hanging them up neatly. Her leathers—without the jacket as she had stolen his to go sit on the roof—that she had left there last time was strewn haphazardly over the desk chair, and maps and open books lay cluttered around the desk, but all of his clothes were neatly folded and his sheets were neatly tucked. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” His voice lowers. “If not, I’m a fool, because you are magnificently beautiful.”

A flush rises in her cheeks, but she just shakes her head. “Sit down.” she gestures to the edge of his bed. 

“What?” his eyebrows raise. 

“Sit,” she orders, staring him down. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Neither do I.” There’s no question in her mind about what ‘it’ is, nor does she want to let what happened six years ago drive a wrench in their night. To her absolute surprise, he does as she asks, sitting on the edge of his bed. His long legs stretch out in front of him, and he leans back slightly on the heels of his hands. “Now what?” 

She moves between his thighs and runs her fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and leans into her touch, and she could swear she felt her heart skip a beat at the complete and utter trust he has in her in this moment. 

“Now I take care of you.” 

His eyes fly open, and gods, are they beautiful. Genevieve has memorized every gold fleck in those onyx depths, and it’s a good thing because she never wants to forget what his eyes feel like on hers. She never wants to remember that in a few days he won’t be here for her to be with whenever she likes. 

Leaving his hair, she sinks to her knees before him. 

“Gen-”

“Relax. I’m just taking off your boots like you did for me all those days.” She says, a small smirk playing on her lips. It is an oddly familiar position if it were to be flipped. There were weeks when she couldn’t bend down to unlace her own boots. 

“You can just leave them in the pile,” he blurts. 

She places them on the floor next to the other two pairs of boots that lay next to his door. “I know.”

His gaze is heated when she walks back. “You should wear backless stuff more often.” 

Her gaze immediately diverts at those words, her own self-scrutiny flaring at every compliment. But she is not about to make this night about her. 

“Be quiet and let me get this off you.” She undoes the line of diagonal buttons across his chest, and he shrugs out of the leathers. “You went flying tonight?” 

“It usually helps.” He nods as she leans over to set them on the armchair. “This day is always…”

“I’m sorry.” She says, averting her eyes from his, reaching for his shirt. 

“I’m sorry, too.” he lifts his arms, and she tugs the shirt off before putting it on the side with the flight jacket. 

“Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” 

She shifts her eyes to his as she cups the unrelenting angles of his face, then traces the scar that bisects a brow. “Challenge?” 

“Sgaeyl.” He shrugs. “Threshing.” 

“Most dragons scar their riders, but Tairn has never hurt me,” she says absent-mindedly, her hand slipping down his neck. 

“Maybe he knew you already carried too many scars,” he says softly, his own hands trailing the ridge on her face, the singular scar running from the bottom of her eye to her jaw. The first scar he saw on her. The only one she can’t hide.

The marks of injuries and torment on her body suddenly feel like they’re burning under his gaze. From the cuffs on her wrists to the gashes on her torso to the torn-up patch of discoloration on her shoulder, she’s suddenly all too aware of how he knows that she’s been broken and put back together. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” She leans in and kisses the scar on his eyebrow. “It will be tomorrow when you wake up.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” His arm curls around her hips and he tugs her in closer. “But I’m going to keep you all the same.” 

“Good.” she leans in and brushes her lips over his. “Because we’ve already established just how much I love you.” 

There’s a beat of hesitation in the air, but not because she doubts he feels the same. Now she knows he does, and the tension is all the same. It’s like that day in December all over again, the proximity, the heat, but now it's so different. Now she loves him and he loves her. Now she’s in his arms fully of her own devotion and not because of the overwhelming emotions of dragons. 

His lips crash into hers, and the moment ignites. The tension that had been simmering between them all night bursts into flames, and suddenly, everything else—the grief, the pain, the guilt–melts away in the fire of their desire. Xaden’s hands are everywhere at once, strong and sure as they grip her waist, bringing her closer to him, impossibly closer. She sinks into the kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair as she presses her body against his, craving more of him, of this, of the safety she finds in his arms. 

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against hers as he gasps for breath. “You shouldn’t… I can’t-”

“You should,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as she searches his eyes for a confirmation. He nods, the words unspoken saying a thousand things between them. 

She tilts his face back to hers. Her lips find his again, and this time, there’s no hesitation. She kisses him deeply, pouring every ounce of her love and longing into it, letting him feel just how much she needs him, how much she’s always needed him. 

His resolve crumbles. In a fluid motion, he lifts her effortlessly onto his laps, his hands splayed against her back as their kiss intensifies. Genevieve wraps her legs around his waist, her heart pounding in her chest as she gives herself completely over to him, feeling just how much he wants her. His fingers trace the scars on her back with reverence, like he’s memorizing every part of her, not just the flawless warrior but the broken pieces too. 

His hands move upwards, slipping the knot of her halter top part of the dress out and off over her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her skin as she does. Genevieve shivers under his touch, her breath catching in her throat. The soft, silken fabric of her dress pools at the waist where their two bodies are the closest. 

“I need you,” he practically moans to her, his voice soft but reverant as his words brush her ears. 

“Then take me,” she breathes, her own desires matching the fire in his gaze. She wants him to feel how much she craves this, and how every lingering touch ignites her body into a sea of want and need. 

Xaden’s grip tightens around her waist, and he captures her lips again, this time with a desperation that leaves her breathless. His free hand tugs her dress off of her body in one move, tossing the fabric to the floor as he pulls her in. It’s as if he’s pouring every ounce of longing and pent-up emotion into the kiss, and she reciprocates with equal fervor, deeping the connection that binds them together. 

Lifting her up, he gently shifts their position, her legs still wrapped around his waist until her back presses against the cold stone wall behind them, their bodies resting on the bend underneath them. The contrast between the cold sheets and the warmth of Xaden's body is exhilarating, and Genevieve gasps against his mouth. His strong arms support her effortlessly, his chest firm against hers, muscles taut with the intensity of the moment. 

She feels his heart pounding in sync with her own, the rhythm of their desire echoing in the small space between them. His skin is warm under her fingertips as she traces the lines of his shoulders and arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as if they’re barely holding back the storm within him. Every part of him is solid, unyielding, yet his touch is tender where it meets her skin, like he’s afraid she’ll break under him despite her strength. 

His hands slide down her sides, strong and sure, pulling her closer as if the space between them is too much, even though they are already pressed together as tightly as possible. Genevieve arches into him, her body alight with need as his lips find her neck, kissing and nipping softly at her skin. Every touch, every movement sends waves of heat through her, pooling low in her stomach. 

She tilts her head back, her breath ragged as his mouth travels lower and lower, his lips brushing against her collarbone. Her body responds instinctively, arching into his hands as his thumbs slip into the waistband of her underwear. 

The air between them thickens, charged with the undeniable tension that has been building for months, and now it’s breaking free in a flood of desire and love that neither of them can stop. Genevieve clutches at him as if that's the only thing anchoring her to this world, her fingers curling into his skin, marking him just as he’s marking her. 

“Xaden,” she whispers his name, voice shaky, her mind barely holding onto rational thought as his touch consumes her. His name falls from her lips like a prayer, like a confession. “Take your fucking—” she gasps, words failing as Xaden sucks at her neck, leaving marks as his lips travel. “—gods—pants off.”  

The request pulls a low, throaty chuckle from Xaden, vibrating against her skin where his lips are still exploring. His teeth graze over her collarbone, sending a shiver down her spine as she fists her hands in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. His breath is hot against her as he murmurs, “Patience, Genevieve.” But there’s a teasing edge to his words, his control slipping as the fire between them ignites further. 

“Fuck patience,” Genevieve growls, her voice raw and urgent as her hands move down his chest, fingers fumbling at the waistband of his pants. She’s done waiting, done holding back. The heat between them is unbearable, an inferno that’s threatening to consume them both if they don’t give in to it completely. 

Xaden groans as her touch sends shockwaves through him, his hands tightening their grip on her hips, pulling her even closer, their bodies locked in this impossible, unbreakable need. With a swift movement, he helps her, his pants joining the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. 

Their lips crash together again, more intense, more desperate than before. Every moment feels like it might combust from the sheer force of their need. Xaden’s hands glide over her bare skin, reverent in tracing the now angular edges of her body as if he’s memorizing every inch, every touch lighting her up from the inside. Genevieve presses herself against him, skin on skin, her nails digging into his back as the last remnants of restraint slip away. 

The cool air hits her flushed skin, a brief contrast to the heat radiating between them, but it only heightens her awareness of him—of everything. His body presses her harder into the wall, every hard line of his muscles melding with her sharp ridges. His lips trail down her neck, sucking at the sensitive skin as his hips go into hers, both of them gasping at the friction, the overwhelming sensation of finally having nothing between them. 

With one last searing kiss, he aligns with her and thrusts in, dampening her cry with his lips, catching the whimpers of pleasure on his own tongue. Her nails dig into his back, her body arching into his as she chases the strokes of his tongue. He groans, because gods, she feels so good around him. 

He drives her up the bed with every thrust, and she keeps their mouths intertwined, her lips unable to leave his for more than a second, as if the connection between them is the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Each movement of his body against hers, inside hers, sends a fresh wave of pleasure rippling through her. The rhythm of their movements becomes frantic, wild, as they both let go. 

She urges him to go faster, and he matches with a wicked grin that nearly makes her cum just at the look of it. Genevieve grips Xaden’s shoulders tighter, feeling the heat building in her core, her body aching for release. 

“I—fuck—this needs to last forever,” 

“But I’m—” Gods, she’s so close, so overwhelmed by the motions of his body growing rougher, more urgent. 

“I know,” he drives forward again, her name falling from his lips like a prayer, and she whimpers. “Just stay with me.” 

He adjusts the angle, hitting her clit with every thrust as he presses her forward, taking her impossibly deeper. 

I’m not going to survive this. I’m going to die, right here, in this bed.

“Then I’m going to die with you,” he promises, kissing her once more. 

“More. I need more.” Her legs lock as power simmers beneath her skin, she’s so close, he is so close. 

“You’re almost there. Fuck, you feel so damn good around me. I’m never going to get enough of this. Enough of you.” 

“Please save me,” her plea falls freely from her lips, and he can’t think clearly enough to distinguish if she’s just begging for release or if something else is going on. His control snaps and his eyes flare as he pounds into her. 

The pleasure explodes with a cry, the intensity of the orgasm ripping through ether like a storm. Every nerve in her body is alight with pleasure as his wardrobe explodes into a sea of greenery, the wood splintering as he throws his weight to the side, bringing her with him as he drives towards his own release, groaning into the side of her neck as the last waves of her orgasms leave her shuddering against them. 

“You’re all right?” He asks after a long minute and her breath steadies, brushing her hair back from her face. 

“I’m great, you’re great. That was…”

“Great?” He supplies. 

“Exactly.” 

“I was going to use the word ‘explosive’, but I think ‘great’ covers it.” His fingers tangle in her hair. “I fucking love your hair. I know you like it short, but I love it like this.”

She smiles, arching her back to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror on his dresser. 

Her stomach drops as she pushes herself onto an elbow to look over his shoulder. “Oh no,” she giggles, her hand covering her mouth as she catches a glimpse at the destruction. “I’m pretty sure I blew up your dresser.” 

“Unless there’s someone else throwing dark vines around, then yeah, that was you. See what I mean? Explosive?” He laughs. 

It clicks then, that's why he threw himself sideways. To shield her from the splintering wood she had caused. “I’m so sorry,” She murmurs, scanning him for damage. “I thought I had that under control.” 

“I threw up a shield. Don’t worry about it.” He pulls her back in for a kiss. 

“What are we going to do?” 

“Right now?” He strokes her hair back from her face again. “That was only one, if we’re counting, and I say we clean up, get the wood out of the bed, and get to three, maybe four if you’re still awake.”

Her jaw drops. “After I blew up your dresser?” 

He smiles and shrugs. “I’ve got other furniture.” 

She glances down at his body, and her own ignites again. How could it not when he looks like the gods blessed him and she feels like the gods blessed her. “Yeah. Let’s go for three.” 

———————

They’re going for five, her hips in his hands as she slowly rides him, her fingers trailing down the black swirls of the relic on his neck. “It really is beautiful,” she tells him, rising up to sink back down again, taking him deep within her. 

His dark eyes flare as his hands flex. “You have the same mark,” he arches his hips, hitting her at a sublime angle. “Yet it’s only beautiful on me?” 

Someone pounds on the door. 

“Go the fuck away!” Xaden snarls, reaching up her back and hooking onto her shoulder to pull her down into his next thrust. 

She falls forward, muffling her moan in his neck. 

“I really wish I could.” There’s enough regret in the voice that Genevieve fully believes it. 

“Someone better be dead if I get out of this bed, Garrick,” Xaden retorts. 

“I think there's a lot of people dead, which is why they’re calling the entire quadrant to formation, jackass!” Garrick growls. 

Both Xaden and Genevieve startle, our gazes colliding in shock. She slides off him, and Xaden tosses the blankets over her to cover her before shoving his legs into his leathers and striding for the door. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asks through a tiny opening in the door. 

“Grab your flight leathers, and you’d better bring Genevieve with you, too,” Garrick says. “We’re under attack.” 

Genevieve has never gotten dressed so fast in her entire life, quickly pulling on her thigh sheaths and slipping the flight leathers she’s conveniently left in his room over her shoulders in fluid motions that she is frankly surprised even worked. “What time is it?” She asks Xaden, pulling on her boots and brushing the hair from her face. 

Mandatory urgent formations means now. The wards are falling. Everything is going wrong. And she doesn’t have a jacket. 

“Four fifteen.” He finishes, lacing his boots, already armed to the teeth as she slips her last two daggers into their places. “You’re going to freeze out there.” 

“Eh, whatever,” She shrugs, “I’ll be fine.” 

“Here,” Xaden throws one of his flight jackets over her. “If Garrick’s right and we’re under attack, then my guess is they’ll order the third years to staff the mid-guard posts, so you shouldn’t be out in formation too long. I can’t stand the thought of you being cold.” 

She rolls her eyes, but her heart somersaults as she shoves her arms through his jacket. He’s leaving. For real this time. He’ll be safe, right? It will just be a midland assignment, and he’s the most powerful rider in the quadrant. No, she’s the most powerful rider in the quadrant, it should be her going out, and—

In her brief pausing moment of thought, he buttons his flight jacket over her. 

“We have to get to formation.” His hands cradle her face. “And if I have to go, then I’m sure Sgaeyl will drag me back in a few days.” He leans in and kisses her hard and quick. 

Are we… dating? She’s so confused. 

Besides the confusion in her own mind, the confusion in everyone else is working to her advantage. Everyone is running on adrenaline, too busy getting their shit together to notice what she is doing or the brief touch of Xaden’s hand against hers before he heads to the leadership in the courtyard. 

The wind is dampened by her…boyfriend’s(?) jacket as she slips into formation beside Violet and Liam. Violet is still in her dress and Liam is buttoning up his dress shirt, and Genevieve smirks. 

“This had better be good, because I was finally taking my shot with that gorgeous brunette healer,” Ridoc whines as he also steps into formation. 

“Good night?” Genevieve teases Liam, glancing between him and Violet with a knowing smirk. Violet’s cheeks flush, though she manages a shrug, trying to play it off as if nothing significant happened. 

“Fine,” he mutters, his cheeks turning pink in the moonlight. 

“Anyone seen Dain?” Violet asks Nadine as she steps into formation ahead of them. 

“All of the squad leaders are with leadership,” she answers over her shoulder as Rhiannon jogs up. 

Rhiannon yawns, sliding into formation right next to Genevieve, then glances her way and does a double-take. “Genevieve Hale,” she whispers, moving closer. “Are you wearing Riorson’s flight jacket?”

Liam’s head snaps in her direction, and she immediately looks away. 

“Why would you say that?” Her voice raises uncharacteristically, doing a shitty job of feigning shock and a blush rising on her cheeks. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Because it’s huge on you and there are three stars right here?” She taps where there are three stars on Genevieve’s jacket and one star on Violet’s. One star on Violet’s and a gauntlet patch, which is definitely not her’s. 

“It could be any third-year’s.” She shrugs. “Can we focus on Violet clearly wearing Liam’s jacket and leave me alone?”

”No, no,” Violet snickers. “I’m in an established relationship so it doesn’t matter. What are you doing with a third-year jacket, with a fourth wing shield on the shoulder, and a wingleader emblem beneath those stars.” She teases. 

“Fuck you both,” she grumbles, casting a glare at him. “It’s his. Now leave me alone.”

“No way!” Rhiannon grins. “I knew it! This isn’t the first time, right? Tell me it’s good.”

“I may or may not have blown up his dresser.” She winces and her cheeks heat. 

“Like… he slammed you up against it and it broke?” Violet asks, eyes gleaming with mischief. 

Genevieve bites her lip, unsure if she should even answer, but the heat rushing to her face betrays her. “More like… my signet flared while we were… you know. And, uh, it just kind of exploded.” She makes a small gesture with her hands, mimicking a burst and vines crawling in the splinters. 

Rhiannon bursts out laughing, and even Liam and Violet can’t suppress their snickers. 

“Wait, wait.” Liam steps in, his eyes wide. “Are you telling me you used life weaving while life—”

“Shut up, Liam,” Genevieve cuts him off, crossing her arms over Xaden’s flight jacket. “You and Violet start forest fires, I only blew up a dresser.” 

She glances over at Xaden, who looks anything but pleased as they eyes lock for a millisecond. “Fucking War Games.”

Relief and disbelief hit her with equal measure. “You’re kidding.” 

“Nope.”

“Hey, Aetos,” Rhiannon says, draping her arms over Violet and Genevieve, hiding ‘their’ jacket patches. “Good morning, huh?” 

Dain looks at Rhiannon like she’s drunk too much mead as he approaches the squad. “Not really, no.” He glances over the rest of the squad. “I know it's early… or late, depending on your night, but we’ve spent all year training for this, so wake the hell up.” He turns to face the dais as Panchek takes the podium. 

“Nice save,” Genevieve whispers to Rhiannon as she stands back at Violet’s side. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Violet nods. Neither of them were in the mood to listen to Dain lecture them about their choices. Not tonight. 

“Riders Quadrant!” Panchek shouts, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “Welcome to the last event of this year’s War Games.” 

A murmur rips through the formation. 

“The alert that was sounded is similar to what it would have been if this were a real-life attack—to see how fast you would muster—and we will continue this exercise as if it is. We’re the borders to be simultaneously attacked, and the wards faltering, you would all be called into service to enforce the wings. Colonel Aetos, would you do us the honor of reading the scenario?” 

Dain’s dad steps forward, scroll in hand, and begins to read. “The moment we’ve dreaded has arrived. The wards we’ve dedicated our lives to upholding are falling, and there has been an unprecedented, multilevel attack along our borders, putting villages under siege from drifts of gryphon riders. Mass casualties among civilians and infantry are already being reported, as are the deaths of multiple riders.”

He’s laying on the melodrama pretty thick. 

“As we would if you were a battle ready force, we are sending your wings in every direction,” he continued, forcing on each wing until they reached Genevieve’s wing. “Fourth Wing to the southeast. Each squad will pick which outpost they will reinforce within that region.” He holds up a ginger. “Choices are first come, first served. Wingleaders, however, will be assigned to theirs for the purposes of determining a headquarters for this exercise.”

He turns to each wingleader, giving out orders, but he glances in their squad’s direction—no doubt looking out for Dain—before he turns toward Xaden. Something about the way his smile slips for a heartbeat makes the hairs rise on the back of Genevieve’s neck. 

“Riorson, you’ll establish your headquarters for Fourth Wing at Athebyne. Wingleaders, assemble your headquarters squads at your own discretion, pulling from any and all riders within your wings. Consider this a test of leadership, as there are no limitations in a real-world scenario. You will receive the updated orders once you reach your selected outposts for this five-day exercise.” He steps back. 

“Athebyne?” Genevieve whispers to Violet. “Isn’t that beyond the wards?”

”Unfortunately, yes.” Violet nods, and Genevieve’s heart sinks. 

“Five whole days? This is going to be so much fun,” Heaton exclaims with terrifying glee, running their hand over the purple flames dyed into their hair. “We’re going to pretend war.” 

“Yeah,” Imogen adds quietly. “I think we are.” 

“Just like real life, you squad leaders need to make your choices quickly, then report to the flight field within thirty minutes,” Panchek decrees. “You’re dismissed.” 

“Tairn?” 

“Already moving.” 

“We’re going to claim the outpost at Eltuval, the northernmost one in our assigned region,” Dain says, turning around to face them as Rhiannon leans over Genevieve and Violet’s shoulders again, blocking Xaden and Liam’s insignia. “I’m not getting stuck at some coastal outpost when we know that's not how Poromiel would choose to attack. Anyone have a problem with that?” 

The entire group shakes their heads. 

“Good, then you heard the commandant. You have thirty minutes to change, pack what you can carry for five days, and get your asses to the flight field.” 

They immediately break, rushing to their dormitory rooms. 

“What do you think our orders will be when we get there?” Rhiannon asks as they force their way through the bottleneck of cadets. “More eggs to hunt.” 

“Probably not.” Genevieve shrugs. 

“Who knows?” Violet responds, before rushing down to her dorm. 

Rhiannon and Genevieve share a look before entering their own dorms. 

It takes Genevieve 15 minutes to pack, between switching Xaden’s jacket with her’s and putting every single dagger she owned into a pile, she was already ready to go with more than half time to spare. 

“Wear every single dagger you own,” Xaden demands, startling her. 

“I’m wearing 12.” She says, throwing the last three into her overnight pack, alongside some other clothes and items. 

“Good.” 

“I’ll see you on the flight field, right?” She asks, making sure he won't leave without saying goodbye. 

“Yes.” His reply is curt, and Genevieve finally meets Rhiannon and Liam in the hallway, Violet quickly following suit. A buzz of excitement accompanies the crowd as they make their way to the flight field, taking rations the kitchen hands out on their way down. No doubt breakfast will be eaten mid flight. 

When they arrive, it takes Genevieve a second to absorb the sight. Every dragon in the quadrant fills the field, standing in formation under the hundreds of mage lights that float overhead like hovering stars. It would be almost beautiful, if it didn’t mean Xaden would be beyond the wards in a few hours. 

They all head to their dragons, with Tairn taking Cath’s spot once more. Andarna is there too, right behind Astrape, her own miniature saddle clipping right into Astrape’s, as per Genevieve’s design. 

“Second Squad!” Dain calls out. “Prepare for a four-hour first leg of our flight. We’ll need to keep a tight formation for the first fifteen minutes as the squads disperse.” He glances at Genevieve, then over her shoulder. “Wingleader?”

She pivots to see Xaden striding her way, the hilts of his swords strapped to his back rising above his shoulder, and Genevieve’s fists clench. How is she supposed to say goodbye to him in front of all these people? And worse, how will Tairn say goodbye to Sgaeyl? 

“Don’t worry, little soldier,” Tairn interjects, his tone resolved. “Everything is as it should be.” 

“How can I help you?” Dain bites out, his shoulders straightening. 

“I need you,” Xaden says to Genevieve. 

“I’m sorry?” Dain retorts before she can even nod. 

“Relax, Aetos, he just wants to say goodbye.” She explains. 

“If you’re saying goodbye, it's to him,” Xaden corrects, nodding at Dain. “I’m constructing my headquarter’s squad and you’re coming with me. So are Liam, Violet, and Imogen.” 

Violet’s jaw unhinges. She’s what?

“The fuck you are,” Dain barks, stepping forward. “Violet’s a first-year, and Athebyne is beyond the wards.” 

Xaden blinks. “I don’t hear you giving me the same argument about Mairi or Hale.”

Violet looks over at Liam, who stands with his chin raised in front of Deigh as if he expected this. And then her eyes drift to Genevieve, who looks not surprised at all. 

“What is going on?” Genevieve asks, trying to figure out why he’s so hellbent on her coming with him. On why he’s so hellbent on Violet coming, too. 

“Liam is the best cadet among the first-years even with you assigning him guard duty over Genevieve, and Genevieve is the strongest rider in the entire quadrant and has the deadliest signet seen in decades.” Dain argues, folding his arms over his chest. 

“And Sorrengail wields lighting,” Xaden counters, taking a step closer to Genevieve. “I’m taking the four of them, end of story. And not that I owe you an explanation, second-year, because I don’t, but Sgaeyl and Tairn can’t been separated for longer than a few days—”

Oh yeah, it’s about this. Genevieve half-sighed. And he’s taking Violet and Liam because where I go, they go.

“That you know of!” Dain exclaims. “Or can you honestly tell me that Sgaeyl was at her wit’s end when you showed up to Montserrat? You’ve never fully tested how long they can be apart.” 

“Feel like asking her yourself?” Xaden quips, arching a brow. 

A low growl rumbles as Sgaeyl stalks forward, and Genevieve pushes Violet behind her, the menacing gleam is Sgaeyl’s eyes forcing Violet’s heart into her throat. Genevieve isn’t scared of her, not anymore at least, but any other rider in their right mind would think of her as terrifying. She’s a living, breathing death sentence. 

“Don’t do this. Riders are known to die during War Games, and she’s safer with me,” Dain argues. “Anything could happen once we’re away from Basgiath, let alone you taking her beyond the wards.”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response. This is an order.”

Dain’s eyes cast over to Genevieve’s, hardening as he looked directly at her. 

“Has this been your plan all along? To separate her from her squad so you can let your girlfriend use her for her revenge fantasy on General Sorrengail?”

“Dain!” Violet shakes her head at him. “Genevieve saved my life multiple times. You’re being an idiot. You know that’s not going to happen.”

“Do I?” He fires back. “She’s been so performative about not wanting to kill you anymore, but that doesn’t mean she won’t change her mind when things get rough out there. You can’t trust her, Violet. Not beyond the wards.”

Genevieve’s jaw tightens, and her fingers itch towards the daggers strapped across her chest. “I’m right here, Aetos.” Her voice is low, icy. “If you have a problem, say it to my face instead of hiding behind Violet.”

Violet sucks in a breath. “You need to stop right now.”

“Please, do quit while you’re behind, Aetos,” Xaden seethes. “You want the truth? Violet is a fuck of a lot safer with Genevieve beyond the wards then she is with you within them. We both know it.” The look in his eyes is shockingly close to Sgaeyl’s, and Genevieve knows that's why she chose him. He’s ruthless. 

“This is stupid.” Genevieve grumbles. “Aetos, mind your own business and get off of your high horse. I’m the one with the power here. I’m the strongest. If you want Violet to be safe then trust that I will keep her safe at all cost necessary. Now let’s go.” 

A flash of tension echoed between Xaden and Dain, Liam’s hand held Violet’s protectively. 

“Are we all clear?” Genevieve snapped, cutting through the thick tension that had enveloped them. “I’m going, Violet’s going, Liam’s going, and that’s final.”

“Fine,” Dain huffs, crossing his arms. “But if anything happens to her—”

“It won’t,” Genevieve interrupts, her voice steady and unwavering. “I promise you that.” 

“Yeah, you tell him, Ma’am,” Heaton chimes in, barely suppressing a grin. 

“Shut it, Heaton,” Dain snaps, but the tension has eased slightly, and there’s an air of reluctant acceptance in his stance. “I’ll miss you, Violet.” 

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Xaden orders, stepping back and gesturing towards the assembled dragons. “We’re wasting time.” 

With a quick glance at the sky, Genevieve feels her pulse quicken. “Mount up!”

This did not feel right. 

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Hey everyone.... so what did we think??? Did I get better at writing smut?? I think so (tbh I did use the book for help, but I did a lot myself), but honestly Idk. Let me know!

not much else happened, plot wise, just some love between the two of them and dain being lowkey an asshole. Just know that we get into some real drama in chapter 24 and then its full steam ahead all the way to the end of the book through resson and the epilogue!

let me know if you liked it! as always, if you did, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and don't forget the taglist is open if you would like to be added! see you all on saturday!

p.s. please boop me I love getting booped it’s my favorite thing on tumblr omg (and happy Halloween everyone!!!)

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