#spicy tickle fic

[screams-of-laughter]

just wanted to ask if that lady d x maid tickle fic was coming out anytime soon 😘😘

It’s definitely in the works and I hope to get it out sometime in the near future. It’ll definitely take a bit since I’m hoping to make a series out of it, but I hope to get a lot of it done during Christmas break. Thank you so much for asking!! ❤️‍🔥

[lovelynim]

More than he gambled for

Honkai: Star Rail - Sunday x Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

Collab with @ticklystuff

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I'm so excited to publish this. Thanks friend ( @ticklystuff ) for bearing me for 2 months, most people would've quitted in the first 48h, but you stayed there.

I had a blast writing this with you and enjoyed every one of our talks during breaks.

ahem, this all started with us thinking about aventurine getting obliterated by two handsome men and here we are. i hope you all like it as well

Summary: What happens in Penacony, stays in Penacony.

Word count: 5208 words

Warnings: N$FW, minor bondage

“Agh,” Aventurine gritted his teeth, using some of his strength to sit back up without using his arms - not that he had an option anyway. “Couldn’t you be a little more gentle, doc?” With mischievous eyes, he looked at the man standing in front of him and, then, to the one a couple steps behind. He wasn’t sure what those two agreed behind his back, but Aventurine knew Ratio was up for something.

Arms restrained behind his back, all the doors that led to the Dreammaster Hall locked and not a soul if not theirs in sight. If this wasn’t Penacony’s dreamscape, Aventurine would dare to say this was some sort of murder attempt. He chuckled, making the other men exchange a confused look - who was he trying to kid? This could be a murder attempt, and how oh-so-exciting it would be if it was actually one. “Please, you’re not going to give me the silent treatment, are you?”

Ratio rolled his eyes, sighing as he had anything but patient to waste on that damned gambler. “You-”

“You’re so confident, Mr. Aventurine. I envy this trait of yours,” Sunday spoke gently, taking a step forward and standing by Ratio’s side. With one hand behind his back, he gestured with the other, continuing his speech. “I was just telling Mr. Ratio about how very appealing you were after your arrival in Penacony. I can’t grant that the Great One would approve your methods, but you sure knew what to do.”

Aventurine’s jaw dropped slightly. A pinch of embarrassment mixed with apprehension and doubt. It was hard to believe that Sunday would actually share the word about their private negotiation, especially with someone like Ratio. But above that, what was even more improbable was the fact that the doctor would bother to hear it. Unless… “Doc, you’re not about to say you got jealous, right?” Aventurine teased despite his position, watching the man keep his serious facade.

Humming a chuckle at the short bickering, Sunday gestured with his free hand as he continued his speech. “It happened to me, Mr. Aventurine, that Mr. Ratio would find it hard to believe just how convincing you can be at certain times. So, I imagined it would be a good idea to show him it.”

…What?

Of all things that crossed his mind when he was first dragged into that room, this was not one of them. A interrogation, a torture session, a stealth assassination - anything! But… “a threesome?” Aventurine chuckled, leaning back into the soft cushions. He definitely did not expect things to come to this.

“But who said anything about having sexual intercourse?” Sunday feigned, tilting his head slightly while Ratio cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But as you said to me a couple system-hours after our meeting in the Reviere, ‘this is Penacony, for the Amber Lord’s sake, land of dreams. Is it a crime to fuck?’, right?”

Did he say that? Well, the line certainly did sound like something that would slip out of his mouth, Aventurine wouldn’t deny. Yet more perplexing was the fact that this specific comment was what stuck with Sunday all this time, imprinting on the Halovian’s mind. Truth be told, there was a bit of purpose to the question. Why not make the most of his stay? Penacony, land of dreams, a place most sought, yet only accessible to the elite. It would be disingenuous to deny that many individuals here possessed an illustrious charm to their person and, if given the chance, Aventurine wouldn’t turn down a bit of fun. And yet, somehow, by the grace of the Amber Lord maybe, he found himself locked in this very room with what were possibly the two most.. delectable men Penacony had to offer. Apprehension turned thrill, Aventurine licked his lips; perhaps lady luck truly favored him after all.

“Speak, gambler.” Ratio’s voice effortlessly resounded off the walls of the hall, filling the dimly lit room with his presence. The authority behind his voice was something Aventurine had grown accustomed to over time, for better or worse, yet there was a noticeable difference that made its mark, sending a tingle of excitement through Aventurine’s body. “Or has the situation before you rendered that tongue of yours impotent for once?”

Aventurine chuckled, a half-attempt of a shrug with his snugly bound wrists. “Oh please, you know me better than that, Doc,” his voice softer than intended, eyes flitting as the imposing figures glowered over him, “but I’m not sure I’m in the position to say anything, to be quite frank.”

“An astute observation,” Ratio nodded with the usual condescending smile, turning to Sunday. “Mr. Sunday, may I suggest we now show the guest of honor why he’s in this position in the first place? I’m aware of your growing impatience.”

“Oh, but of course,” Sunday said, gesturing one hand to Aventurine’s seated figure. “After you, Dr. Ratio.”

Confidence can oftentimes be described as a double-edged sword: effective at fooling not just others, but oneself as well, and as Aventurine watched the two men take their place by his helpless frame that it dawned on him that perhaps there was something more in store, something underneath that smile Sunday wore well. He could only feign his own weakly, the act he put together quite well crumbling ever so slowly with each passing second, observing as Sunday and Ratio seemingly communicated with their eyes. What he wouldn’t give to hear their thoughts.. or on second thought, perhaps the dark was for the best.

“Poor thing, are you nervous?” Sunday cooed, almost in a lullaby-like tone, while he sat himself by Aventurine's right side. Before the gambler had a chance to voice another smart remark, Sunday gently held his chin, turning Aventurine’s face towards his. Barely inches away from each other, it was nearly impossible for the blonde to stop blood from rushing to his cheeks. “Worry not, for you have nothing but good moments awaiting ahead.”

“S-sure…” Aventurine muttered, hoping the small crack on his confident facade would go unnoticed by the other two. As Sunday’s lips hovered above his, Aventurine closed his eyes, letting his face be guided into a short kiss. For someone as “pure, righteous and collected” as Sunday, the head of the Oak Family was surprisingly skilled with his mouth. This was the second time this thought crossed Aventurine’s mind - with the first being during his first private encounter with Sunday - but he couldn’t help but be just as impressed.

It didn’t take long for the gambler to feel a shift in the cushions by his other side. With no doubts that Ratio had joined the scene, Aventurine tried to relax and let the other man work on him as he pleased. Opening the buttons of his coat, Aventurine felt Ratio’s hands trailing up his torso, adjusting his posture so he would lean his back on Sunday while having his legs resting on Ratio’s lap. “Don’t be shy, doc,” the gambler teased, resting his head on Sunday’s shoulder, feeling his wing gently resting against his jawline. “If anything, you should make mr. Sunday impressed.”

If he was about to get fucked, he might as well let himself enjoy the ride, Aventurine thought. Kicking off his shoes, he kept Ratio between his legs by wrapping one of them around the doctor’s waist. The only thing stopping Aventurine from hugging Sunday by his neck being the cuffs that kept his hands together, the gambler let out a pleased sigh, allowing a smirk to take place in his lips. “You already know the drill, doc, come on. ~”

Behind him, Sunday couldn’t help but to look up to the doctor, as if waiting for an answer after such provocations. The scholar, however, scoffed quietly and towered over the gambler, a wicked grin playing in his lips while his hands pushed Aventurine’s clothes out of his way, getting a hold on the blonde’s bare waist. “You should have held your tongue, gambler.”

Finding himself trapped between the two men, Aventurine clenched his hands - that, thankfully, were out of their sight. He looked down, watching Sunday slide one of his hands down his chest and Ratio rest his palms over his hip bones. The texture of their gloves were different, which added a touch of… uniqueness to each of them. While Sunday’s hands were covered in a delicate fabric, smooth and soft as silk, the contrast between Ratio’s bare fingers and covered palms would constantly capture Aventurine’s attention and interest.

But… Aventurine didn’t expect the other two to be touchy. Not this touchy, at least. “H-hngh… hey, c-can you two be a little less… g-gentle?” Aventurine gasped through gritted teeth, sinking his teeth in his lower lip as Ratio rubbed small circles with his thumbs. “T-this kinda- agh, t-tickles, heh…”

“Mmm, interesting,” Sunday chuckled lowly, the wisp of his breath grazing Aventurine’s skin ever so slightly, sending a trickle down his spine. This in tandem with the incessant caress of Sunday’s fingers, from the curve of his waist to the edge of his pecs, made it difficult to focus on the task at hand and Aventurine would open his mouth to fuss about the excessive display of touchiness, but would curl his lips shut soon after, fighting the unique sensation bubbling at the back of his throat. As if to knowingly further coax the feeling, Sunday’s hand slipped underneath the tight shirt still clad around Aventurine’s torso, repeating the same motion from before, threatening to pop the buttons of his top from below. Sunday’s delicate fingers intricately imprinted on his bare skin, a hint that this was a familiar game he played, and with the slight brush of his gloved hand along Aventurine’s nipple released a shiver through the blond’s body, cascading into a ragged arch of his back that accompanied a mewl Aventurine fought to suppress. 

Had it been Sunday alone, perhaps the ordeal would have been manageable, but there was still Ratio and his own set of hands to contend with. Despite the certain familiarity behind those hands, the subtle differences were all too difficult to ignore. It was almost like Ratio had taken a page out of Sunday’s book, mimicking the gentle strokes that Sunday used to mark all over Aventurine’s torso, a stark contrast from the rougher treatment Aventurine had grown accustomed to. His legs quivered with each passing second, anticipating the Ratio he knew so well to pick up the pace, yet even the doctor seemed caught in the moment, kneading his fingers into Aventurine’s hips, forcing a sharp gasp from the blond as he involuntarily jutted his hips.

“S-Stop th— this nonsense,” his voice wobbled in his throat, pushing back the laughter that only grew the more their hands claimed inches of skin. “It tickles— stop, I-I said it tickles..”

“Ah, our dear peacock seems to be quite the… sensitive one.” The tone in Sunday’s voice, the way in which he emphasized that word— it all pointed to one thing and Aventurine didn’t like that. This wasn’t what he expected, their plaything in such a manner, and Aventurine discovered the more he squirmed, the more he attempted to retract his legs, the closer their bodies pressed into him—

And yet, there existed a distinct kind of tension, a faint presence rooted at the pit of his stomach. Under normal circumstances, this would be no more than a passing thought, a mere blip in his system, yet the feeling budded ever so slightly, nourished by the stimuli plaguing his body, to the point that Aventurine could ignore no longer. For all his efforts, the feeling continued to flower, invoked by the heat of his surroundings, unfurling its petals to propagate through his limbs, his system, an unfamiliar sensation knotting throughout him, yearning to be touched.

And yet, he still fought.

“Perhaps we should’ve taken care to restrain his legs as well,” Ratio expressed irritatedly as Aventurine’s legs continued to jerk, contrasting the subtle whines that escaped the blond’s mouth with each touch.

“And here I thought you’d prefer a bit of a challenge,” Sunday tutted, resting his chin atop Aventurine’s shoulder, as if he wasn’t struggling in his grasp, searching for reprieve from those damned hands. “And to think, we haven’t even really started.”

A death sentence wouldn’t have evoked as much fear as those words did. Aventurine’s jaw opened slightly, struck by realization. Just when he was about to turn his head to look over his shoulder and face Sunday, Aventurine was forced to look back forward by a firm grip on his chin. 

“Is there something troubling you, gambler?” Unlike Sunday’s, Ratio’s voice was firm, demanding, almost as if he was scolding Aventurine. The blonde opened his mouth to retort - his body moving faster than his thoughts - but instead of words, something he had been fighting so hard to repress came out: a giggle.

Distracted by Ratio’s sudden approach, Aventurine failed to notice Sunday’s hands slipping further inside his shirt, reaching for the soft skin of his sides and prodding at those spots - on both sides, at the same time. And as he was caught off guard, a short, breathy laugh escaped his lips.

“Oh?” Sunday mused, arching his eyebrows in a pleasant - at least, for him - surprise. “Did you hear that, mr. Ratio?”

No, no, no, no, no!

A million thoughts rushed through Aventurine’s mind, as if he and the other two were all frozen in time at that moment. The gambler looked up to see the doctor’s face and felt his heart sink inside his chest when he noticed those amber eyes he knew oh-so-well weren’t looking at him, but rather past him.

“R-Ratio,” Aventurine wheezed, with a dozen of other words stuck at the back of his throat, “don’t even think about tha-AHAT!” His body jerked violently, arching his spine when Sunday dug his fingers just below his lowest rib again.

“I beg your pardon, mr. Aventurine, but I was talking to mr. Ratio,” Sunday cooed into his ear, making the blonde grit his teeth. Aventurine felt frustrated, humiliated even, but also… thrilled.

“Yes, I did,” Ratio scoffed, roughly yanking his hand down Aventurine’s torso, ripping off all the buttons of his expensive shirt that were in the way. “But I can’t say I’m anywhere near impressed, mr. Sunday. He has always been ticklish. Awfully ticklish, if you ask me. So this reaction is anything but unexpected.”

Aventurine groaned quietly, feeling a faint heat spread across his face after being exposed, both physically and verbally, like that. He slightly scrunched up his shoulders, as if trying to sink into his own body. If he was a little more flexible, he would have pulled his leg back just to land a kick on Ratio’s handsome face. That bastard, how could he be handing such a valuable, classified intel like that?

“I see,” Sunday chirped content, sliding his hands up and towards the middle of Aventurine’s torso, palming at the underside of his chest. “He seems to know you really well, mr. Aventurine. I bet you two get along well,” he teased, humming a chuckle while his fingers tapped at the top of his abs, making the blonde tremble with anticipation.

“N-no such thi- ah! W-wahahit! R-Ratio, ahAHAh, n-nohoh!!”

“I would appreciate it if you could spare me of your monologues, mr. Sunday,” Ratio snapped, planting his hands back at Aventurine’s waist and drawing both men’s attention back to him. Thumbs dug just above where Aventurine’s bones would be while the rest of Ratio’s fingers prodded and vibrated against his lower sides and back. 

“You already have plenty on your hands, no?” The scholar continued, casually ignoring Aventurine’s loud, panicked pleas between his laughter.

Sunday clicked his lips, pondering about what would be a proper response. “By the Great One, doctor, it seems that I struck not just mr. Aventurine’s nerves, but yours too,” he teased, grinning at the sight of Ratio frowning.

Still, he couldn’t really deny that he, indeed, had plenty in his hands already. Sunday clawed at Aventurine’s sides, slowly working his way up the blonde’s ribs and, much to the gambler’s horror, managing to worm his fingers under Aventurine’s arms.

“H-hey, hehey!!” Aventurine whined, throwing his head back into Sunday’s shoulder and kicking one of the nearby cushions as he squirmed. “F-fucking stahahap this shihihit!” Aeons, it tickled. It tickled so bad it made him want to crawl out of his skin. It tickled so bad that he… wanted more? 

“Mr. Sunday,” Ratio tutted, “bear in mind that I do not entertain lowly provocations, especially from beings such as yourself,” his voice chided the other, working his hands over Aventurine’s thighs at the same time, “though, if it humors that pigeon brain of yours, my most recent observations confirm that you perhaps possess an inkling of expertise when handling our gambler here.”

“I presume a compliment from you is but a rare occurrence, which explains mr. Aventurine’s display of lonely behavior the other day,” Sunday commented with a hint of playfulness, but full of second intentions. His voice, however, barely audible over Aventurine’s laughter, just loud enough to make his message clear to the scholar, “but I am no man to refuse such courtesy— I humbly accept the praise, mr. Ratio.”

Throughout all this, Aventurine’s pleas fell on deaf ears, begging to be granted even a shred of mercy from the hands that were seemingly everywhere. And yet, if one could take a bird’s eye view of the situation, one would be able to observe the way Aventurine sunk into Sunday’s hold, his legs clinging tighter to Ratio’s body, head lolling to the side, body twitching to the source of the sensations, seemingly begging for more, unbeknownst to Aventurine himself. Each poke, each prod, each pinch, invoked a string of pleasure, wringing together into a jumbled mess that brought both confusion and.. excitement.

“Waihah- stop! Stahahap, I-I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can. Yes.. you can,” Sunday cooed smoothly, his breath warm against the tip of Aventurine’s ear. His hands traveled the length of Aventurine’s torso freely, no longer restricted by the tight shirt from before, taking liberties in how he tormented the blond. Digs to his ribs, a squeeze to his side, learning Aventurine’s body with his hands. A yelp escaped his lips right when Sunday’s hand reached for his exposed nipple and Sunday’s intrigued ‘ah’ that followed made Aventurine want to curl up if he could. Having caught his interest, Sunday’s fingers continued to roll what seemed like his new favorite spot in between his thumb and index finger and Aventurine shifted and squirmed underneath his touch, almost as if Sunday had complete control of his body with one simple movement, all while still digging into Aventurine’s underarm. 

And Ratio.. his damned hands at his thighs, digging into them ravishingly. He looked upwards to face the doctor, mouth agape with laughter, hoping his eyes could convey that he just needed this to fucking stop, yet the slight grin that crossed Ratio’s face was enough for Aventurine’s stomach to sink. The man clearly found amusement in Aventurine’s reactions, squeezing harder with each shriek, keeping the slim legs apart whenever Aventurine would attempt to protect the sensitive inner regions, all while keeping that delighted gaze locked with Aventurine’s own helpless one.

“R-Ratio, pleHEHEase! Stop! Just— staHAHap!” The fingers at his thighs combined with Sunday’s special attention to his pecs was too much, past the point of overstimulation. His body felt weightless, head fuzzy from the high coursing through his veins. His struggles withered away, slumped back in their hold as the tickling continued on, and on, and on..

Until it didn’t.

“...Oh.”

It took a moment for Aventurine’s brain to register that the hands had come to a gradual halt— first were the ones at his thighs, then Sunday’s hands at his upper-body. He laid there, eyes glazed over, aimlessly following the blurred stars dance across the ceiling. Although the tickling had stopped moments ago, light giggles still flowed from his mouth, thinning out into the occasional heavy intake of breath as Aventurine took in his break.

“You seem perplexed, doctor,” mused Sunday. “Is something the matter?”

Through half-lidded eyes, Aventurine took in Ratio’s inquisitive gaze, almost like he was focusing on Aventurine, yet not. “Mr. Sunday, it appears that our gambler here has something to share with the two of us.”

Spent of energy, all Aventurine could manage in response was a half head-tilt, rolling the back of his head along the lining of Sunday’s chest, head too hazy to follow along, though it soon became clear what Ratio was referring to. Aventurine’s eyes jolted open and a choked gasp filled the air following the feeling of Ratio’s hand grazing his crotch…. or rather, what was there. 

“W-Wait, Ratio, no.. no, don’t, pleas- hAH!” Aventurine’s legs twitched as Ratio’s palm began methodical rubs against the tented pants, gentle pressure to stimulate his already hardened member. Sharp intakes of breath were all that Aventurine could cling to in an attempt to control himself with the rising heat overtaking his body. His eyes once again locked with Ratio’s own, shaking his head in plea, yet the scholar carried on, using his free hand to keep Aventurine’s thighs from clasping together, while the other continued to feel.. touch.

“Ah, I see, I see,” Aventurine could make out a chuckle from behind him, before fingers made their way to the base of his chin, turning his head to face Sunday’s amused smile once more. “What a turn of events— I suppose the course of action is clear.” Breathy whines filled the air as Sunday’s own free hand came into play, palming Aventurine along with Ratio, as if the two men were competing for his attention. “Doctor, if you’d care to do the honors.”

“Gladly.”

It all happened so quickly– first his belt and thigh strap tossed to the side, followed by the graze of fabric shifting against his skin. Despite his earlier demeanor, Ratio was surprisingly gentle throughout the whole process, slowly stripping Aventurine’s legs with care, bending and straightening his limbs with delicacy as he worked away at his pants. While one hand tugged at the fabric, the other would trail along, feeling along the newly bare skin, akin to a merchant threading his fingers through the finest silk, continuing until Aventurine’s feet had slid through his pants, socks discarded in the process. 

All the while, Sunday’s fingers treaded the outline of his boxers, toying with the elastic, before burrowing underneath. A short whimper slipped through Aventurine’s mouth the moment he felt Sunday’s thin fingers wrap around his cock. “Hmmm~” Sunday hummed, contrasting the series of frantic breaths that only grew in beat with each passing second. His body jerked with each complete circle that Sunday teased along the head, as if the other man had complete control over Aventurine’s body through a singular rhythm. Even as Ratio’s own fingers hooked around the hem of Aventurine’s boxers, Sunday’s hand never left ownership, keeping Aventurine his plaything till the last layer discarded.

“...s-stop staring,” Aventurine sobbed quietly, his chin pressing down at the middle of his chest as if it was somehow hiding him from the other two - that only seemed to grow more amused at his reactions. His dick, however, stood up proudly, contrasting its owner. It clearly enjoyed the attention it was getting and, of course, it craved for more. Aventurine felt his body burning under the two piercing gazes that surrounded him and, to the death of the last bits of his pride, he didn’t even need to look at Ratio’s or Sunday’s faces to know where they were looking.

He wanted to close his legs shut, kick the doctor in the face and punch the family’s head as he ran away. He wanted to want to fight back, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. As much as he would rather die than admit he got hard because he was tickled, Aventurine knew that his body - that had already betrayed him - would never miss such a chance.

Before these thoughts could occupy any more room inside his head, the feeling of another hand joining Sunday’s around his cock brought him back to reality. Aventurine bit his lower lip, his pupils quickly moving up to Ratio’s face and down to his own erection. “Is something troubling you, gambler?”

“I assume there must be a lot crossing mr. Aventurine’s mind right now,” Sunday answered, humming a chuckle sweetly as he pressed his cheeks against the blonde’s. “Should we help him release some?”

Aventurine wished he could snap back at that, say something and prove Sunday wrong, but, again, he didn’t. Barely any sound came from his gaping mouth and, taking his silence for an answer, the men continued to toy with him.

Sunday closed his palm around the tip of Aventurine’s dick, carefully rubbing circles over the spot as he massaged it, almost fluttering his digits over the skin of the blonde’s length. Ratio, in the meantime, wrapped his fingers around the hard cock - tight enough to force a whimper out of Aventurine’s mouth - and began to stroke it, up and down and up and down, methodic like the man himself.

A sweet, but restrained moan poured from Aventurine’s lips. A shiver ran up his spine, carrying enough pleasure to make his back arch and his toes curl. 

“It must be heavenly, no?” Sunday cooed, his free hand resting over Aventurine’s stomach while the other worked nonstop to please him. “The attention, the care, the pleasure… I know you’re fond of those, mr. Aventurine,” he continued, making Aventurine feel safe, reassured, validated. Despite all the warnings and recommendations regarding Sunday’s figure before his current mission, here he was, leaning into his touch and giving himself to the fullest.

Still, something was missing. Something of ultimate importance for his pleasure and that, until not long ago, made itself present during his engagement with the other two. With teary, half-opened eyes, Aventurine stared at Ratio, hoping this would be enough to deliver the message. “D-doc, h-hah… ple-ehease…”

The scholar sighed. Should his and Sunday’s places switch, Aventurine’s needy mumbling wouldn’t carry as much meaning as they did. Ratio moved his other, hooking it under one of the blonde’s legs before caressing the smooth, tender skin. “Is this what you want, isn’t it, gambler?”

Not giving Aventurine the chance to even nod at his question, Ratio squeezed the back of his thigh, pinching and digging in a way that made Aventurine’s head spin and his lips curl into a smile. 

“N-nohot so h-hahard, hhngh… doctor, b-be nihihice, ahh…”

Sunday, left out of their conversation, couldn’t help but to allow a slight smile to take place on his lips. “Yes, mr. Ratio,” he added to Aventurine’s pleas, beginning to trace circles and tickle around the blonde's navel while pre-cum slowly soaked the palm of his glove, “mr. Aventurine demands quite the care when dealing with him, isn't that right?”

“H-hehey, don't- ahhgh… S-Suhunday- s-low dohohown! ThaHAHahat's t-too muhuhuch!”

“Peculiar that he still holds himself to a position of authority,” Ratio scoffed, addressing only Sunday, yet his eyes stayed honed on Aventurine, as if scrutinizing the sorry state he found himself reduced to, “though I suppose a modicum of reprieve can be permitted.”

“I believe we are in agreement, then,” Sunday mused, and Aventurine could feel a shift as Sunday leaned in, murmuring against the tip of his ear once more. “You hear that, peacock? We’re almost there…”

“I- hah-hahaaAAH! Pl-please.. m-mm,” Aventurine stuttered, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in a vain attempt of holding the little dignity he had left at that point. He circled his lips, thrusting his dick into Sunday and Ratio’s hands, nearly demanding more.

Protests morphed to pleas, Aventurine’s own voice was foreign to him as he traversed the unfamiliar form of pleasure, steadily losing himself in the ripples. The hands were seemingly everywhere, intricately driving a string of sensations that pooled at the base of his crotch, constantly feeding attention to his shaft that craved for more. Even the slightest of touches were enough to set Aventurine off, evident by the way his body desperately pushed into those hands, seeking relief in what once brought him torment. Helpless whimpers spilled past his lips, unrestrained in nature as the seconds passed. Just.. a little longer…

Tickles and strokes, teases and squeezes. Aventurine's head spun under all that attention, losing track of what made sense and what didn’t. All he could feel was that heat swirling in his lower stomach, underneath the fingers seeing those electric sensations that made him smile and moan like an idiot. 

He could feel it, it was right there.

“A-hAHAh, I-I’m c-cumming! I- hnngh! Ahh!!”

A sharp gasp struck through the air as Aventurine screwed his eyes shut, the dam reaching its collapse. Waves of pleasure began pouring through his body as he arrived at his climax, seeping into his nerves like sweet honey, rendering all other stimuli null. Shots of seed dirtied his chest and the hands that adored him so, finally acquiring what they sought. Aventurine relaxed back into Sunday’s hold, dots of color popping into his vision as his eyes stared listlessly into the ceiling of the hall. His legs trembled ever so slightly, recovering from the aftermath that he was finally free from.

Or so he thought. 

“W-Wait.. stop! Stop it! Please- aH! A-AhahaHAHAHA! NOHOHO!”

A moment of respite and nothing more, the hands were at full vigor even more than before. Contrary to the previous bout of tickling, there seemed to be a silent agreement between Ratio and Sunday, as if both simultaneously came to the conclusion that play time was over.

What used to be light teases and subtle jabs became rougher digs and squeezes into the delicate skin. Each press against the surface created their own butterfly effect, setting a ripple that spread through his nerves, igniting each one so that the next could be set in greater ablaze. Compounded with the post-orgasm sensitivity, Aventurine’s body felt like it was on fire, absorbing every touch from the fingers that seared him, as if the sensations melted past his skin and coursed through his body to send him into sensory overload. Even the cool air of the hall was enough to make his body tingle.

“P-PLEASE!” Aventurine whined, overwhelmed. “N-no mOHOhore! I-it’s too m-much! AHAahah, f-fuck!” He tried to squirm, but each of limbs felt like they weighed ten times more. It tickled too much, it felt too good.

“You should know best between the three of us that there’s always a price to pay,” Ratio answered as he routinely pressed his calloused thumbs into the divet of Aventurine’s bare hips, speaking with a sadistic grin that made things all the worse. “I mean, this is what you wanted, right, gambler?”

“Besides,” Sunday spoke, licking the shell of his ear while his cum-soaked palm continued to rub Aventurine senseless, “mr. Ratio and I were only working for your pleasure. It’s time you do your share for us, right?” He chuckled, making Aventurine’s eyes roll inside his skull.

“Hold still, little peacock. For the night is still too short…”

[ticklygiggles]

Ten minutes in heaven | Wrioney [n$fw]

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN THE AFTERNOON WONDERFUL FABI @lovelynim! I hope you enjoy this little gift! It's my first time working Wrioney, I hope I made them justice and you like this! I LOVE YOU ❤️

Summary: Wriothesley not only stood him up, but also ghosted him. It's only Lyney is so mad. 

Words: 2k+

“Sigewinne, let me out! I'm not kidding!” 

“Nope.” The sweet voice came from outside. “I'm tired of listening to you both bickering, so you'll both stay there until you reconcile.” They couldn't see her, but Sigewinne nodded, proud of herself. “Or else you won't get out. I'll be back in ten minutes.”

00:01:00

Lyney whined, pressing his forehead against the wooden door. If he had known that his visit to the Fortress of Meripide would end with him locked in that small closet with the person he least wanted to be around at that moment– well, he wouldn't have gone in the first place.

Besides, he had only gone for one reason: he wanted to fight. He wanted to argue with the administrator of the place, also called Wriothesley, also called his boyfriend. Turning his head slightly, he looked at Wriothesley standing behind him, arms crossed above his broad chest, with his imposing stature and his warm eyes fixed on Lyney. Lyney frowned, also crossing his arms and leaning his back against the door. Wriothesley chuckled and a deep blush spread across his cheeks from pure anger; he bared his fangs in a snarl, glaring at the other man. 

“What?!” 

Wriothesley shook his head softly, “are you really that mad at me, kitten?” 

Somehow, Lyney felt heat radiating from his vision, he was ready to attack at any second. “Don't call me that! I hate you so much, get me out!” 

Wriothesley chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders. “I can't. Sigewinne has the key and I'm not planning on destroying my office.”

“Hmph!”

00:02:07

Lyney couldn't decipher the emotion in Wriothesley's eyes. Something between sadness and tenderness and shame and love– he couldn't stand looking at him anymore and he closed his eyes, turning his head. 

“Listen, kitten-” 

“Don't call me that.”

“Lyney, I'm truly sorry about what I did,” Wriothesley said, gently touching Lyney’s elbow, but the magician jerked away. “You know my work here is not easy, I truly wanted to be there on time, but then Neuvillette came by and I had to take care of some stuff and-”

“It's not just that!” 

Lyney hated that he felt his eyes tearing up. He was used to Wriothesley's rudeness, but knew it was not on purpose. It was true that his job wasn't exactly an easy one, and Lyney forgave every time Wriothesley missed one of their dates or arrived ridiculously late, because he understood, he really did. But just because he knew that Wriothesley's job kept him busy most of the time, Lyney made sure to invite him to a super important show he was having months in advance, and he made sure to remind Wriothesley every single week, every single day and he promised so sure of himself that he was going to be there. 

But of course, he wasn't, but the worst thing was that it had been two weeks since that day and Lyney had heard absolutely nothing from Wriothesley in all that time! He even thought that something bad had happened to him, but what was his surprise when he found him stuck in his office; when their eyes met, Wriothesley didn't even seem surprised to see Lyney and greeted him as he normally did. Wasn't that too much?! 

“I can't believe you treated me like that. And you know it's not only about you not coming to see my show, but you just not reaching me in two whole weeks! Do you know how worried I was?!” 

“I'm so sorry, I really have no excuse for that,” Wriothesley said sincerely, scratching the back of his head. “I thought you'd be really angry with me, so I wanted to give you your space, but… I think I messed up even more.”

“Yes you did!” Lyney wiped the tears from his cheeks angrily, and taking a single step forward, he encountered Wriothesley's body and punched him in the chest. “I felt so bad! I thought you didn't want to see me anymore! You're so stupid, Wriothesley!” 

Perfect, now he was really crying. Lyney whined and growled when Wriothesley suddenly hugged him, pressing him tightly against his chest. He struggled, trying to break free from the embrace, he didn't want to be comforted, he wanted Wriothesley to know that he had made him feel terribly bad! 

“I'm truly sorry, Lyney,” Wriothesley said softly, his deep voice against Lyney's ear making him shiver. “I was just careless and stupid. I truly wanted to go see you, but I didn't dare– I didn't know how to face you and what to say to you after promising for months that I would be there. I'm sorry, kitten.” 

Lyney pressed his face against Wriothesley’s chest and cried. The last two weeks had been hell for him. Had Wriothesley stopped loving him? Had he missed Lyney's show because he never  wanted to see him again? Worse yet, had something happened to him? Did he get into an accident when he was on his way to the show? A thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind, they didn't let him sleep, eat, and sometimes even breathe. He was afraid to go to the Fortress of Meripide because he didn't want to know if something bad happened to Wriothesley, but in the end he did and to find him there… just working. 

“I was scared! I hate you so much, Wriothesley!” 

That was a lie, of course he didn't hate him, on the contrary, the only reason he was there was because he loved him desperately. His heart longed to see him safe and sound, he wanted to be in Wriothesley's arms again and hear his voice. Lyney just couldn't hate him because he loved him too much. 

Wriothesley gently cupped his flushed, wet cheeks, his thumbs gently rubbing under his eyes to wipe the falling tears away. He pressed a tender kiss to Lyney’s forehead, then his nose and the corner of his mouth before pressing their foreheads together. 

“Please forgive me, Lyney. Just this once. I promise I'll do better.” 

Lyney whined, his eyes crossing a little as he tried to look at Wriothesley’s. “I just want you to let me know you won't come and if you're okay! I understand about your stupid job!” 

Wriothesley chuckled and Lyney couldn't help but smile, gently hitting his arm. “You are so stupid!” 

00:04:45

Wriothesley nodded, “I am. I missed you very much, kitten.” 

Lyney pouted and with a smile, Wriothesley kissed his lips. A small, chaste kiss that made Lyney feel butterflies, but a small kiss like that wasn't enough for the two weeks they hadn't seen each other. Lyney wrapped his arms around Wriothesley's waist and brought him close to him, his tongue pushing between the other's lips, making him gasp into Lyney's mouth. Wriothesley grabbed the back of Lyney's head, tilting his head back slightly so he could kiss him better. A war broke out within their mouths; gasps and soft moans escaped their lips as they hungrily devoured each other. 

Lyney felt light-headed, breathless. His heart was beating fast, bouncing within his chest. He had missed Wriothesley's passionate kisses so much, his strong hands holding his face, the warmth of his body against him. He had missed it so much. He opened one of his eyes, his sight slightly blurry with tears; Wriothesley's expression was a sight to behold… but why was he looking so happy after the torture he made Lyney go through? He had forgiven him, but would he get out of this without being punished? Of course not! 

Lyney tapped his fingers against Wriothesley’s waist, between those fierce kisses, Wriothesley barely noticed the light touch on his waist, but it was very different when Lyney pressed that super sensitive spot just above Wriothesley's hips. 

00:05:37

Wriothesley gasped, quickly pulling apart and grabbing Lyney's shoulders to push him away. “What are you- ngh!” His words got stuck in his throat, Lyney was smirking widely.

“What? Did you really think I won't punish you? Silly Duke.” 

Wriothesley opened his mouth to say something else, but Lyney pressed against him, cornering him against the wall as his light fingers clawed at Wriothesley’s hips, making him jump and break into loud laughter. He arched his back, but Lyney simply pressed against him tighter, one of his legs between Wriothesley's. He always found it funny how a big guy like Wriothesley became almost useless when tickled; even someone small like Lyney could manhandle him a bit like this. 

Wriothesley's hands tried to push Lyney away, but when his nimble fingers moved under his arms, Wriothesley pressed his arms to his sides, laughing brightly. He squirmed and begged between gasps and laughs and squeals for Lyney to stop, but his pleas fell in deaf ears. 

“Ah, so your armpits are still really ticklish, hmm? What about here?” 

“N-NoHOho! K-KihiHIhitten, plehehease!” 

Snorty giggles left his mouth when Lyney started to wiggle his fingers against the sides of his neck, a sweet spot the magician especially loved. It made Wriothesley so desperate, his laughter panicking and his squirming intensifying. It seemed completely torturous to him and Lyney couldn't help but feel a little sadistic seeing Wriothesley's state. He was flushing already, even crying as he mercilessly tickled his neck and- oh? 

00:06:40

“You are disgusting, Wriothesley. Why are you grinding against my thigh? Ah, I see, you liked your tickles too much?” 

Wriothesley shook his head, going crazy with the tickling on his neck. His hands lacked the strength to push Lyney's fingers away, and Lyney laughed.

“S-Stohop, PLEHEASE, I- NGH!”

“You don't want me to stop,” Lyney purred, the maddening tickling stopping so he could palm Wriothesley's hardening cock above his clothes. “You're not supposed to enjoy your punishments, Wriothesley.” Lyney wrapped the red tie around his hand and pulled at it, bringing Wriothesley’s face close to his. “I really should show you how pissed I am with you, hmm?” 

“K-Kitten,” Wriothesley gulped, his teary eyes blinking and trying to find a way out. Lyney smirked. “I s-said I'm sorry. And you said… you forgave me.” 

Lyney shrugged, “and I did, but you need to learn your lesson. Do not mess with me again, Wriothesley.” 

Wriothesley gasped when Lyney suddenly dropped on his knees in front of him, his fingers hooking on the waistband of his pants and the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down to his knees at once. Wriothesley whimpered and he tried to cover his half hard dick, but Lyney slapped his big hands away and took Wriothesley’s cock between his smaller hands. 

His cock wasn't even half its usual size, but Lyney knew what to do. He lifted the cock with one hand and his tongue traced a warm, wet path of saliva from Wriothesley's balls to the tip. Wriothesley's legs shook and he pressed a hand against his mouth to keep from making a sound. Lyney laughed, closing his mouth around the tip and circling with his tongue. The salty taste of precum exploded in his mouth as his hand moved up and down slowly, stroking the growing length. 

“L-Lyney,” he moaned, his voice muffled behind his hand. 

“There we go,” Lyney said, pulling the cock out of his mouth with a pop and it kept up, moist and dripping. “That was fast, huh? Were you pent up? Did you miss me during these two weeks? You just wanted to fuck me, right?” He slapped the tip of Wriothesley's cock and he trembled, a deep moan leaving his mouth. 

“I- I didn't only miss f-fucking you, I-”

“You didn't? I don't believe you,” Lyney said with a shrug, his hand wrapping around Wriothesley's cock again, stroking him fast. “I think you just wanted to put this thing on my butt all these days.” 

Wriothesley shook his head, grunting and moaning, his hips circling and thrusting. Lyney smirked, oh his poor Wriothesley was so close to cum. He really was pent up, hmm? What a shame~

00:08:59

“No you can't.” Lyney stopped, his hands moving away, and Wriothesley cried, clenching his dick as trying to reach his peak, but it was useless. 

“H-Huh?! W-Why not?!”

Lyney pouted, looking at Wriothesley's cock as the tip of his finger tapped against the wet head, making it twitch. “It's frustrating right?” Lyney pressed a kiss to the tip and looked up at Wriothesley. “That's how you make me feel, Wrio. So. Frustrated.” 

Lyney stuck his tongue out and licked the salty precum before pushing the whole length into his mouth. Wriothesley was huge, but Lyney wasn't scared of it anymore, rather he was hungry. Wriothesley moaned loudly, his hands moving to grip at Lyney's hair. The magician frowned and slapped at the hands, pushing them away from him as he started to bobble his head, sucking Wriothesley. One of his hands gripped Wriothesley's thighs to keep his balance while the other started to tickle his balls.

Wriothesley gasped. “Nngh! H-Hold on! Hold ohohon! D-dohon't tickle me t-tohoo!”

He squirmed and Lyney frowned, pressing his hand against Wriothesley's hip to keep him in place. 

“L-Lyney… ah! Ah! I'm c-cumming. I'm- 

“Phaw!” 

00:09:15

“N-No, please! Le-Let me cum, please. Please!” Tears of despair fell down Wriothesley's cheeks. Oh, Lyney loved seeing him so desperate. He smiled angelically. 

“Ow, you wanted to cum, Wrio? I'm so sorry, I had no idea!” Lyney raised, placing Wriothesley's cock between his legs, making him hiss. “You really wanted to cum?” He whispered against Wriothesley's lips and he nodded desperately. “I really wanted to see you these two weeks.” 

Wriothesley whined, “I'm sorry, Lyney. I'm s-sorry- anh!” 

Lyney began to move his hips, squeezing Wriothesley's cock between his thighs. The duke moaned, his eyes crossing. Lyney smirked, his fingers flicking Wriothesley's hardened nipples over his suit. “Are you feeling well, your excellency?” Wriothesley shuddered, nodding as his breathing became erratic. He was close again. “Oh no, his excellency is going to cum, does he deserve it?” 

“Yes! Yes, please don't stop, please, I-”

00:10:03

“I am back! Are you guys reconciled?” 

Wriothesley gasped and Lyney giggled when he pressed him tightly against him, but he pulled away, leaving his cock twitching with yet another ruined orgasm. 

“What a shame, you were so close, Wriothesley,” he whispered, shrugging and winking at him before turning around. “We're ready, Sigewinne, we're good again.”

“Great! Then I'll open the door.” Lyney heard the key turning in the bolt and the padlock opening, Sigewinne's small hand closed around the knob and she turned it, trying to open it. ‘'Huh?! Why can't I open it?!” 

A wide smile appeared on Lyney's face as a hand pressed against the door, right next to his head.

“Sorry, Sigewinne,” Wriothesley said, his voice strained. “We still… need to talk.”

“Ah I see,” Sigewinne said, leaving the knob. “Then I'll let you to it then. I'll be back in another ten minutes!” 

They both heard small footsteps walking away and then the office door opening and closing. Lyney laughed softly. 

“Do you need something, Wrio?” 

00:01:01

“Yes and we have ten minutes for it.” Lyney gasped when Wriothesley pulled his shorts and underwear down, freeing his hard cock. A finger touched his butthole and he whimpered, holding onto the door. “Let's see how much you missed me, Kitten.” 

Lyney purred. “I wonder~” 

Lyney wondered if ten minutes would be enough to satisfy Wriothesley… and himself after being away for two whole weeks. Ah, make-up sex was always the best.

[chickenparm]

Where You Willed the Moon - Pt. One

AO3 Link Next Part

Scaramouche/f!Reader (reader is the traveler, but not lumine) 10,756 Words - NSFW Unhealthy Codependence, Enemies to Lovers, P in V, f!Receiving Oral, Thigh Riding, Mentions of m!Losing Virginity, Pining, Bullshit Sereniteapot Magic, sub-ish Scara when it counts :^)

Spoilers for the Sumeru story, and spoilers for 3.2 based off leaks.

(written pre-3.2)

---

The sound of metal hitting the floor is eerily similar to the tolling of bells over Monstadt. Ones that call the populace to the cathedral - those who practice, that is. While you hadn’t been much to worship Barbatos after puzzling out Venti and his identity, it’s a different sort of church that you kneel at now. 

One made of crumbling metal and stray static, enough to set the hair on your arms on edge. Your fingertips touch the metal floor and with it comes the zapping of loose electro. You’re far enough away from the residual pools of water and towering cryo structures that you can almost forget what’s brought you here. 

The ignorance is shattered in seconds by the sound of a choking sob, one ripped through teeth in a fit of fury and heartbreak. 

“Not like this… not like this…!”

Your knees scrape against the floor painfully, though it’s miniscule compared to the pains you feel elsewhere in the aftermath of this worship. You’re wholly unconvinced that this is the sort of prayer that he’d been hoping for. Wishing for. 

Demanding of you as metal arms towered over you in a threat of total annihilation if you simply didn’t concede.

The helmet of the metal monstrosity lays in jagged ruins at the center of the room, an altar for you to prostrate in front of if you hadn’t emerged the victor. Your fingers curl over the side as you crawl through the wreckage, hauling yourself up and over the lip to fall next to the prone figure inside. 

Your own body gives out as you collapse on your side, facing Scaramouche’s broken expression as his limbs lay dormant, body spent after expending the entirety of his less than holy divinity in the battle he’d lost. All you can hear is the sound of his heart breaking and his nails digging into the steel and metal that encases the two of you now. 

For a brief moment, as you slide down into the cradle and land so, so close to him, you’re taken aback by the sight of him curled on his side. Like a bug almost, squashed without a care. Without a thought. But you’ve thought about him far too often for this battle to have been meaningless. As meaningless as a simple showdown between some generic good versus generic evil could be, you suppose.

For a moment, it seems as if the world no longer exists. The structure rises and curves inward enough that only an oval of ceiling is visible. There are cracks far, far above from the stress of your clash. One hand clutches over his chest, cradling the place over his heart if not for the way his knuckles and tendons strain at his skin with the force of it. The arm attached to the shoulder he’s laying on is stretched out as if to reach toward you.

His words speak the opposite, all but screamed as his teeth gnash with every syllable. “Get away from me, you… you worthless-… GET AWAY-”

“Stop that.”

Your response isn’t elegant. It isn’t the proper way to speak to a God, especially not one that had held himself so highly above others that he never saw the one coming from below to strike him down. Now you’re on equal levels, cocooned in metal and darkness as static spits back and forth. 

“It’s done.”

“Not like this.” His voice wavers as he repeats himself. Then once more, even weaker, “...not… like this.”

“That’s enough, Scara-”

“I’ll say when it’s enough! Get up and face me!”

It would be far more convincing if you weren’t staring at his visage, watching as a thick stream of tears travel across the bridge of his nose, into his temple, and soaking the indigo hair that’s dampened with blood from a gash across his hairline. With a weak hand, you absently reach forward to push the hair from his forehead and judge that the wound isn’t so deep. 

If his hair weren’t matted with sweat and tears and his absurdly dark lifeblood, you’re certain it would feel like silk against your fingertips. You rub a lock between them anyway, just for the sake of touching him in a way that isn’t outwardly malicious. 

His head jerks back, the hair slipping from your fingers as he does so, and you’re greeted with an expression of pure loathing. It’s disgust that colors him as his lip curls and he sneers at your audacity. At what in particular is unclear. Certainly you’ve done a lot today to earn his ire; tenderness may just be the most heinous of all your transgressions.

But he can’t fight you anymore. Not while he’s so exhausted that he can barely shift his head. You’re certain he’s only awake now out of an endless well of spite and rage, borne of a lifetime threaded with consistent disappointment and betrayal. You’d seen his memories, you’d witnessed the wrongs committed against him. One after another, interspersed with moments in-between that showed you who he might have been had things just been different.

At the time, you’d carefully schooled your features in fury against him. But on the inside, you nurtured a twisted sort of understanding. You’d be just like him, if things had gone differently. Your powers stripped away, your only family is far beyond your reach, and somewhere out there is a goddess that wronged you in so many ways.

It’s this kinship that leads you to reach for him once more, dirty fingers dragging against a cheek that you’d thought was made of porcelain at one point. No being has the divine right to be crafted so beautifully, especially not one made of flesh. Yet here he lays, sucking a startled breath through his grit teeth as you sweep away tears and blood. 

“It’s alright now.” The words crack around the thickness in your throat, brought on by exhaustion and your own welling emotions. “We’re done.”

“We? We’re nothing.” It’s a snake’s hiss, but the fangs are long gone. “All of this is nothing. All my work, everything I’ve done…”

“That’s not fair to yourself to discount everything. I always thought you were the kind of person to turn a blind eye to your failure-”

A bitter laugh leaves him, the smile that accompanies it is ugly and twisted, filled with the tang of bitterness far worse than one should have from a simple defeat. The world is silent. The electro has sputtered out, the groaning of metal settling has finished, and all you’re left with is your own heart pounding in your ears and the ragged sounds of Scaramouche’s frantic breathing. 

Off in the distance, one of the pillars of cryo cracks and groans, the residual heat in the room from Scaramouche’s errant use of pyro created an environment unfitting for ice. It will take time for them to truly melt on their own, but they protest under the pressure nonetheless. In the remains of the metal body, it’s almost frigid. 

“You’ve seen it. I know you have. If it wasn’t leading to this moment, to my victory… then what was the purpose of it all? Why would the gods have deemed it right to leave me broken three times?”

Four, actually, if you’re to count this time. You decide not to.

His real name settles at the tip of your tongue as you fight the instinct to call him such. It’s found a home in your mind since you’d suffered his memories, warping your perception of him from one of distaste to empathy. Like it or not, you understand him now. Perhaps more than anyone else could.

Another shaking breath fills his lungs, and for a moment he holds it as if he’s not quite ready to let go. Then, all at once as if he’d been punched, it leaves him in a harsh sob that turns the twisted expression he wears into something far more heart wrenching. Rage and fury is gone, and to take its place is despondency so deep it takes your breath away. 

And with that cry comes another, wetly forced from the back of his tongue as it catches on phlegm and his own spittle. Just before his eyes clench shut, Scaramouche looks at you with a gaze that suddenly seems far younger than it had moments ago. Hopelessness, pain, fear. You recognized it painfully from the moment he’d entered the hut and witnessed the beginning of his third betrayal.

“If it was all for nothing, what do I have to continue on for? If you have even a shred of mercy in your body left for me, then end it now.”

Instantly, before you can consider the ramifications of his request, you deny it. “No.”

“Then you’re far more cruel than I ever gave you credit for.” From the first syllable, his voice cracks until he’s left whispering the words. Resignation is a poor fit on him. You’re unwilling to let him continue to hold it close to himself. 

Shuffling closer, until you’re nearly nose-to-nose with him,you feel the absence of his body heat that would surely be there with a human. Your fingers glide from his cheek to his hair once more, pushing it all from his forehead once, then twice, over and over in a soothing motion that he visibly melts into. Not so long ago - seconds, really - he would have fought against this. Now, he leans into your touch as if it’s the only thing keeping him pieced together. 

“Scaramouche.”

His body stills, but he refuses to open his eyes to acknowledge you. While he claims you’re merciless, you have enough kindness to give him a few moments longer of your comfort before you try again. “Kunikuzushi.”

“...Hm?”

“Would you like to try again?”

“No, I’m not sure I’d be able to put up as much of a fight the second time.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You can’t help the curl of your smallest smile as you lean close enough for your forehead to press firmly against his own. It’s clammy and sticky with his blood, nearly cementing the two of you together as one. That wouldn’t be so bad, you think. 

“If I took you away from here, would you trust me not to betray you?”

The answer doesn’t come. Only the steady press of his skull against your own, harder and harder until it just toes the line of beginning to hurt. 

Only then does he shakily breathe out, “No.”

With a bitter smile of your own, you push yourself onto your hands, then your knees to pull him into your lap. Blood rushes in your ears at the shift in position, and your wooziness lasts for only a moment before you’re back in control. When your vision clears, you realize rather quickly that your fingers clutch to him a little too hard - he never even flinched.

Trust or not, you’ll take him anyway. 

—

Explaining the destruction of Scaramouche is easier. Convincing everyone of your honesty is even moreso. 

Why would you lie? Scaramouche was your enemy, the mastermind behind everything that’s happened in Sumeru. The samsara, the expedited withering of Irminsul, the foul actions of the Akademiya… All of it would be attributed to Scaramouche, if the presence of Dottore hadn’t been confirmed by multiple witnesses. 

With one harbinger dead and the other having taken flight with the Dendro Archon’s gnosis, the only enemy that remains is one consisting of the sages that had knowingly assisted in the Fatui’s deeds. There are no monsters to fight, no evil to thwart in martial combat, and thus you state your intentions to take some time to rest. 

At first, it made you nauseous. Being pulled through time and space is unpleasant to the uninitiated, but multiple trips for both yourself and the adepti have left you more than experienced in managing the sensations. 

All you see are stars. Streaking past you in a blinding array that leaves you breathless every time you witness it. Your little pocket dimension is somewhere unknown within the fabric of reality, yet you can almost recognise the patterns that shoot past you so quickly they’re gone in the blink of an eye. 

Aether may feel like home, but your feet hitting the cobblestones of your teapot home is a close second. 

While there are storage buildings scattered across your land, only one truly dominates the skyline with its shimmering tiles and sturdy dark wood. A wall surrounds it, but it’s purely for aesthetic reasons - who could invade you here, when permission is required to enter? Brute force would never succeed. 

It’s instinct to call on Tubby to tell you of happenings in your absence, yet this time you refrain. There is another here, and while you’re unsure of the exact amount of time that’s passed between this realm and reality, you’re almost certain he’s exactly where you left him. The door to your home groans open - the only sound that interrupts the careful silence. 

In the entryway, you kick your shoes off to avoid damaging the tatami, and make your way to the second floor. The stairs barely shift under your weight thanks to Tubby’s meticulous upkeep, meaning your presence will go unnoticed if he happens to be on edge. 

But your subterfuge is entirely for naught. As you slide the door open and step into what you’ve claimed as your bedroom, you take in the sight of Scaramouche still unconscious in your bed, even as the sun shafts illuminate the high cheekbones and furrowed brows of his face. 

With little more than a thought, the sun shifts across the sky until it sits low on the painted horizon, just above the stylized waves that surround your home. The light no longer beats against his face, instead casting the room in a warm glow that almost makes the air feel thick. In the distance, you hear those very waves as you nudge one of the windows open to allow a breeze to shift through. 

At first, you’d expected to need to provide medical aid. You’d been prepared to fight him on it, up until he passed out in your arms before you brought him here. Tubby had done most of the work - bringing him from the threshold of your home, cleaning most of the blood off, changing him into something that didn’t smell of smoke and ash and whatever remained of his dreams of grandeur. 

Without the trappings of his harbinger uniform, Scaramouche looked far less menacing in shades of azure and green. It stood in contrast to his hair that was still matted - Tubby couldn’t do everything without thumbs, you supposed. 

Hunger claws at your naval, but you’re far more preoccupied with sitting halfway at his side and picking through the mess of his hair with a fine-toothed comb. It doesn’t take at long as you thought it would, and isn’t nearly a long enough excuse for you to be in his space like this. 

The implications of your need to be here make your skin crawl. You retract your hands so quickly that the comb clatters to the floor with the sound of wood on wood. Scaramouche doesn’t stir, at least to your knowledge, and you take the time to rise from the bed and reach for the abandoned object. 

A vice clamps around your wrist, holding you in place with a grip tight enough that it’s certain to bruise. It takes all your strength to rip your arm away and stand from the bed. Scaramouche looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a haziness to his gaze. A thud follows his hand hitting the bed once you’re bereft of him. 

A long breath leaves him at first, as if he’s testing his lungs and reassuring himself that they’re still functional. After a swallow that reaches your ears with its sound, Scaramouche tries again to reach for you. All that leaves his mouth is, “Don’t leave.”

And against all your instinct to leave, your desire to stay wins. The bed dips as you sit at his side once more, a careful distance away with your hands in your lap. The lacing of your fingers is so tight that your knuckles are as pale as bone with the pressure. 

Scaramouche doesn’t look away, even as his gaze grows hazy with its focus. It’s not clear he understands who you are as one of his hands reach out and tangle in the fabric of the clothes across your back. “You left before.”

“I had to make sure no one was going to question anything.”

Pale lips quirk into the smallest smile, just for a single second. It leaves as soon as it comes, the quickness in stark contrast to the slow way he blinks up at you - weariness incarnate, it seems. “I woke up and all that was here was your… little bird.”

“Tubby. That’s it’s name.”

“It’s a stupid name.”

Scaramouche is feeling better, it seems. The lacerations he once sported have knit themselves shut, the bruises have turned from fresh red and blue to a sickly green akin to the sky before a storm at sundown. Your skin beneath his grasp is alight with far too many sensations, goosebumps traveling along your arms. 

Scaramouche zeroes in on them, and there’s that twisted little smirk again that stays far longer. Blessedly, he doesn’t say a thing about them. Perhaps he can be a benevolent god, when he wants to be. 

“I need to go for a little longer-”

“I said stay.”

“I need to eat, Scaramouche.”

The name makes him flinch, his hand falling to the bed and leaving you bereft of his grip. A yearning little part of you misses it fiercely. Fear isn’t the right word when you pinpoint how wrong it is for you to have become attached like this, yet after having learned so much of his life in the span of moments, you feel an involuntary kinship that colors all your thoughts of him. 

His reaction to the name isn’t explained. While most of him is tucked beneath the blankets of your bed, the hand that had been touching you lays above them with his palm to the sky and his fingers clenched into a loose fist. They only clench tighter as he pointedly looks up at the rafters and says, “Don’t come back, then.”

That strikes at you. His petulance is completely unwarranted, and you’re helpless to your own urge to plant your hands on your hips and call him out on it. “Make up your mind. Do you want me to stay, or do you want me to leave you alone? I’m going to have Tubby make up a second bedroom. Then you can hide out in there if you want to be a child.”

“I’m not-” With one movement, Scaramouche pushes himself up on a hand to sit up. His elbow shakes with the effort, clearly not up to the task of moving so quickly just yet. A sick sense of pride shoots through you with how solidly you’ve beaten him. Through grit teeth, he continues, “You’re the one coming and going as you please.”

“What’s gotten into you?” 

Scaramouche flinches at your hiss, avoiding you all over again, judging by the stubborn set of his brow. Just like him, you’re exhausted, and you don’t have the time nor energy to entertain his whims right now. With purpose, you turn your head and call for your teapot spirit. In a dusting of tiny fireworks and drifting petals, Tubby appears and opens their beak to begin bombarding you with everything they’ve been waiting to say. 

And you’ll give them that when you have time, but for now you hold a finger to your lips and they get the hint. Folding the sleeves of their robes together, Tubby listens as you ask, “Can you bring me something to eat? It doesn’t matter what, don’t trouble yourself too much.”

“Of course! Give me a little time, and I’ll have something splendid for you!”

Your request to not go out of their way is entirely lost to the empty spaces in the room as they disappear. Blowing out a long sigh that feels too much like resignation, you carefully sit on the side of Scaramouche’s bed, your back turned to him and your hands on your knees to brace yourself. When Tubby comes back, you’ll get them working on that second room.

In the meantime, the hand along your spine returns, this time splayed out with a palm pressing firmly against you. It’s a simple touch, one that you close your eyes and relish now that he can’t quite see your face. The expectant moment lingers with a quiet anticipation before Scaramouche breaks it without remorse.

“Why did you do it?”

“Bring you here?” Shuffling behind you, and you assume it’s a nod. “Would you believe me if I said I empathize with you?”

“One little peek at my memories, and we’re suddenly friends now? You feel sorry for me?”

“Is that so bad?” Your head turns so you can look at him out of the corner of your eye. Though he’d been quiet and restrained, it’s clear that there’s fury bubbling beneath the surface that you now must quell. “I think we’re more alike than you realize. Yes, I felt sorry because you never deserved any of that, even after all the problems you’ve caused as a result.”

“I’m not some good guy under all this, you know. I’m not putting on some front to trick you - this is who I am.”

Behind your eyelids, you see him in white, curled in the cavernous wooden halls of his domain and clutching himself in the mockery of a hug. Tears run down his cheeks, one after another, in a constant stream of loneliness and despondency. Perhaps that isn’t him anymore, but neither is this tyrant that’s bent on the divinity he was meant to receive. 

“It’s not. We change through our lives, but I don’t think even you know who you are now.”

“I still don’t trust you.” It’s said as a barb, a last ditch effort to snipe at you when he’s at a loss for words. That’s all you need to confirm that you’re right - Scaramouche is lost and adrift all over again. Eccentric wanderer from Inazuma indeed. 

Tubby returns with your food - a simple fare of cheeses and meats that you consume quickly. Scaramouche doesn’t partake as he stubbornly turns on his side and turns his back to you. Whether it’s in derision for your offer, or he’s still petulant that you backed him into a corner, you’re unsure. Either way, you expect this to be an uncomfortable affair. 

When there are only crumbs left on the plate that Tubby brought, you chew the inside of your cheek to stifle a yawn. While there isn’t another bed, you’re certain you can find a futon in one of the storage houses that dot your little estate. It’ll do for now if you toss it in the other room with tatami flooring. 

Rising to your feet, you stretch your hands to the rafter as if to grasp them, working at the hunched muscles you’d been nursing for a little too long now. The blood rushing in your ears nearly drowns out Scaramouche’s question. “Where are you going? I told you to stay.”

“You also told me to leave, so which is it? I need to get some rest.”

“...Stay.”

Great, that solves that, but you still need to find somewhere to rest. As if he read your mind and pinpointed the exact thing you’d cave to, Scaramouche blindly reaches behind him and flips the blanket back. It’s an open invitation that your hands are tied about - obviously he expected you to take it. 

With not nearly as much hesitance as you expected, you blow air from your cheeks and turn to your dressing screen to change. If he insists… then who are you to deny him? Ditching your adventuring clothes is an affair that’s far quicker than you’ve ever done before, and even as you return to him in only a few minutes, he’s still waiting expectantly. This time on his back, one hand across his heart as the other picks through his hair while noting the tidiness of the strands despite the remnants of your battle clinging to them. 

Scaramouche doesn’t say anything about it, and neither will you. 

The bed dips as you slide in, keeping a careful distance between yourselves as you mirror his position on your back. The bed normally smells like you, but now it carries some odd mixture of yourself and the male besides you. You’re not quite sure if you like it or not. 

“Are you a vampire? A mummy, perhaps?”

“What?”

“I only ask because sleeping like that only comes from being a stiff, undead creature.”

Rolling your head to the side to look at him, you realize you hate Scaramouche’s attempts at humor. There’s no smile on his face, but the tension at the corner of his eyes has melted away, leaving something serene and… nearly happy in its absence. 

Scowling with indignance, you roll on your side until you’re facing him and fix him with that expression unimpeded. It does nothing to bother him, and you’re startled by a laugh. High pitched and breathy as he takes in your irritated compliance. “Is that so bad? Alright then, go to sleep.”

“You first. I need to make sure you’re not going to strangle me.”

“I could just be pretending. Then the moment you start to dream, I’ll wrap my hands around your pretty throat and squeeze until you’re blue.”

“Not if I break out of your hold and strangle you first. I bet you turn an ugly shade of red while you’re wheezing.”

There’s that laughter again, high and manic as he gives you a twisted little grin. There’s no humor in it, only a pleased sort of madness as he meets you blow-for-blow. “I bet you’d beg. ‘Please, Scaramouche-’” 

“Maybe I’ll let you start the suffocation early so I die faster and don’t have to listen to your sad attempts at humor.”

Scaramouche turns until he’s facing you, mirroring your own position as his hands fall in the space between your bodies. You can’t help but let your eyes turn to them, taking note of long, thin fingers whose nail beds are still caked with blood that Tubby couldn’t quite get to. As he notices your gaze, his fingers twitch before they spread open, wiggling pointedly as if to demand something of you. 

All you have to offer is your own hand, but it seems as if that’s what he wanted all along. His palms are cold, just as the rest of him is, but he seems to relish in the warmth you hold in turn with how he lets out a nearly inaudible, shuddering sigh. 

“I won’t strangle you. I’ve decided to keep you.”

“You’re the one in my home.”

He has nothing to say to that. Instead, he squeezes your fingers together with his own and lets his eyelids droop - an acquiescence of a stalemate between the two of you and the mocking attempts at one another’s life. When indigo lashes brush the top of his cheeks and a long sigh leaves his nose, he finally speaks to you. 

“I still don’t trust you.” But I’ll try. 

The implication isn’t lost on you, as much as you’d like to disbelieve it. This moment is proof of him giving in, even if it’s only a few scant centimeters. The end result is unclear, but you’re content with chipping away toward it for as long as he’ll let you. 

—

“How you ever managed to be such a thorn in my side is beyond me.”

Cracking an eye open, you look up at Scaramouche as he looms over you, blocking out the sun that’s been hanging high in the sky for far too long. He’s like an eclipse, and the rays bloom from behind his head like a halo. You wonder if he’s aware of himself, or if it’s unknown to him the exact amount of natural transcendence he carries like a second skin. 

On its own accord, your mouth opens to ask just that, yet he cuts you off by planting his hands on his knees to bend down closer. The trailing sleeves of his haori brush at the grass near your ears, caging you in and tunneling your vision toward the one thing you haven’t been able to look away from. There’s no need to draw your attention when his gravity is inescapable.

“How many times have I agonized over your meddling in Sumeru, and you were laying in the grass somewhere just like this?”

More than you’d like to admit, probably. At least while you were in the forested lands. In the desert, you were all business as Cyno nearly dragged you by the ankle through the dunes. No time to waste, he’d said. You couldn’t agree more as that unforgiving sun beamed down at you like it had a personal vendetta against your survival. 

At your lack of verbal answer - because physically you were blinking slowly up at him with a crooked smile that spoke volumes - Scaramouche grimaced and sank until he was seated just above your head. If you shifted a bit, your head would be cradled in his crossed legs. 

Would he push you away, or pull you in? His preference on your proximity seemed to wax and wane at unpredictable intervals. Some days he was your shadow, just in the corner of your eye as you went about your morning exercises, caught up on some reading, satisfied your need to simply exist for a while without pressing issues at hand. 

And some days you wouldn’t see him until the false evening where your energy would wind down and you’d share a bed with him far more comfortably than you’d expect. You always woke first, and you’d always find him wrapped around you in one way or another, hair brushed into his face and moving gently with his exhales. 

It’s in these moments where you’d watch him - both in the sleepy hours of the morning and times like right now - that you can’t help the whirling of your thoughts down avenues they shouldn’t be veering toward. There are dark corners that beckon you closer, promising things that should never come to fruition. 

But the promises were beautiful. Soft veneer that belied the sharpness that’s sure to cut you to the bone if you let it. But you’ve been through worse things unwillingly - what’s a little willing self-inflicted pain when the payoff would be so sweet? 

Those alleyways are left behind in favor of tilting your head to smile at his upside-down figure. This could be enough. You’re not even sure there's a true possibility for more, yet you dream of it nonetheless. Shameful isn’t enough to describe it. 

“Where have you been?”

It’s an innocent question. It’s all you can muster, as every other topic you’d like to broach comes with the implication of heaviness. Scaramouche will bring his thoughts to you at his own pace - you’d tried to rush him only once, and he’d shut you down so quickly with a sneer and barbed words. It wasn’t worth the grief to hurry him along. 

So you keep it simple, and if he appreciates it or not, you’d never know. But it earns an answer anyway. “I got restless. I looked at the rest of your domain. It’s rather bare. Do you not have the means to fix that?”

If anyone else asked, you would’ve laughed it off. But Scaramouche says it with a little too harsh of a tone, and it makes your cheeks warm as you hurry to defend yourself. “Why would I need to do that? All I need is right here.”

Maybe there’s a little implication there. You hoped for him to pick up on it, and the subtle pink of his cheekbones beginning to flush is the sign showing you that he had. Pointedly, he lifts his chin and turns his gaze forward, setting you free from the snare of his gaze. It’s like cresting from beneath water as the pressure lifts and you’re left reeling from the aftermath of such visual entrapment. 

With a quiet sigh from his nose, his entire posture nearly melts. His back hunches, his elbows find his knees to rest on, his hands are tantalizingly close enough for you to want to reach for. Impulse control had never been your strong suit on the best of days. 

While today was pretty good, you were powerless to reach for one of those slender hands and bring it above your face, watching as his fingers splay of their own accord. You’re treated to the sight of slim fingers that obediently follow where you place them as you push and pull, pressing your thumb into his palm to cup his hand before urging him to flatten it out again. 

All at once, his hand comes down on your face - without force, but the grip he has is enough to startle you into kicking your legs out and scrambling to pull him off. Stubbornly, he refuses to let you go, his voice tinged with a tone that’s awfully close to a certain kitsune you know. “You wanted to see my hand? Then look at it.”

—

The veranda that surrounds your stone garden is a point of interest to him, considering you find him there at all hours with his feet over the edge while he draws shapes in the sand that would soon revert back to its normal state. And in his lap he holds a number of things - scrolls and books you’ve collected on your journeys, trinkets he’s found in your home, an Anemo vision. 

The latter startles you the most. It’s in the Inazuman style, but the glittering green of the gemstone is telling. Venti knows. He must, if it’s to be believed that bestowment of visions is an extension of an Archon’s will. 

Settling beside him with a grunt, you look at the metal he turns over and over in his hand. From what you understand, receiving a vision is meant to be a happy affair, one that comes with the realization of one’s dreams and ambitions. Yet Scaramouche has been quiet during his stay here, barely antagonizing you in favor of sitting in this very spot and contemplating everything and nothing at all. 

“Have you made up your mind, Scaramouche?”

Instead of stringing you along and causing you grief, Scaramouche instead clutches the metal in his hand until you’re certain the edges dig into his skin painfully. “You know my name. Use it.”

It flows off your tongue like it’s been waiting for you to speak it. “Kunikuzushi.”

It sounds like a song, despite its inherent meaning. Whether he chose it for himself, or it was given to him by the Shogun, you’re unsure. The tension in his shoulders drops, and you’re left with a former Fatui harbinger that’s hunched in on himself, looking smaller than ever. The Anemo vision pulses in his palm. 

“I have something to ask of you.”

Not demand, not even request. Kunikuzushi implies that you can simply say no, if you want. It’s haunting to know that you’re not convinced you could deny him something if he asked it earnestly enough - as he’s doing now with subtly pleading eyes and hands that shake around his newfound vision. 

Against your best interests, you answer, “Anything you want.”

“Don’t say that.” It’s sharper, said as a warning before he softens again into vulnerability. “You were right. I don’t know who I am now. I’m… angry. There’s so much of it that I easily let it fill every part of me until there was no room for anything else.”

Despite opening your mouth, you think better of it and say nothing. He doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve foregone a response, and continues on, “It’s still there. Maybe it always will be. Maybe it’s a byproduct of how I was created. She held no regard for emotions, and seeing them in me turned her away.”

You’re well aware. Painfully aware. In your dreams you see snippets of his life you witnessed, and they hover over you like a nightmare that you can’t shake. 

The Anemo vision is no longer strangled, instead it’s cupped in his hands as if he’s cradling something precious. In a way, he is - that vision is the manifestation of the ambitions he’s come to a decision on. 

“No matter how someone attempts to be perceived, everyone has emotions. Me, you, the Shogun. I’m sure every god up in Celestia is unable to hold themselves above that standard. It’s not a human thing, it’s a curse that everything with sentience is given.” 

For the first time since you woke up in that bed and found him clutching your hand with both of his own, gripping you like a lifeline, you reach out with your own hand to lay on the back of his shoulder. Your fingertips brush the ends of his hair, the softness tickling across your skin in a way that you’ve quietly missed.

“So yeah, there will always be anger. There are also a million other emotions too - you can’t get rid of them all. You can let one take over, but in the end you’re still feeling. You’re still angry. You’re still hurt.”

The last word hits him so hard he flinches, eyes clenching shut briefly before opening with slow blinks. Realization is clear on his face as he turns to look at you, something new in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. 

You’re barely given time to decipher it before his tongue darts out to wet his lips and he finally asks of you, “I’ve been selfish for my whole life. Hundreds of years, the only thing I’ve cared about is me. Without the anger I’m empty, and without the selfishness I feel like a stranger to myself. The thing I want to ask is that you let me stay by your side. There’s clarity here, and I know it will be lost the moment I’m alone again.”

“You won’t be.” On reflex you answer, and you’re certain it’s the correct one. You’d never be able to doubt your decision when it comes to him. “Learn to trust me, I won’t willingly let you down.”

And the smile you receive with your acceptance can only be described as radiant, even as it barely curves on his lips. It’s genuine, nothing like the mocking ones you’ve seen before. You have a need to reach out and sweep across it with your thumb, committing the shape to memory, yet you hold yourself back for good reasons. 

He doesn’t trust you, but he’s trying. 

—

Scaramouche - Kunikuzushi, you remind yourself - doesn’t smile often. At least, not in any capacity that isn’t malicious or antagonistic. There’s very little joy to be had on his end, you realize. It’s a task you’ve unwittingly taken on to at least bring him some iota of happiness. You just want to see that smile he’d given you on the veranda once more.

And despite your efforts - needling him for his favorite food until he relents, offering to spar and being shot down, showing him how the spincrystals work - none of them ever make a dent in his perpetual melancholy. That is, until you catch him going through one of the storage buildings where you keep miscellaneous items used for ascension. 

There’s a look on his face that has nothing to do with the fact that he’s been caught, and everything to do with the purple and blue shard cluster in his hands. It glimmers in the low light, but not nearly as bright as the look of glee on his face. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Oh, I knocked that off Childe a while back when we were fighting. I keep it to lord over him when he gets too cocky.”

“‘Gets’? As in, continued interaction?”

Jealousy is painfully easy for you to spot, even on someone like Scara- Kunikuzushi. Against your deep, deep desires to call him out on it, you simply lean one shoulder on the doorframe as you cross your arms, the picture of nonchalance no matter how feigned. “We meet up when I’m in the area and fight. I haven’t lost yet, but he keeps trying.”

“You realize it’s like a drug to him, right?” He turns the shard over and over, watching the way the blue shifts like sunlight through the surface of water. “If you let him win, he’ll lose interest.”

“What if I don’t want him to? It’s the highlight of my trips to Liyue.”

The gleeful smile is gone, and in its place is a downward turn of his lips that leaves you feeling suddenly bereft. Even a smile out of malevolence toward Childe is better than him being disgruntled about nothing at all. The hand holding the shard falls to his side, still clutching it but with far less care. “Is it now?”

“We’ve had a couple solid heart-to-hearts in the middle of battle. I think if things were different, we’d have been good friends.”

“Really? How good is ‘good’?”

You don’t have to think about it. It’s exactly what it sounds like, but you know you’re starting to tread some dangerous waters with how he refuses to look at you, the joints in his hands cracking with the sudden pressure of his grip on Childe’s Foul Legacy shard. The hesitation is unfortunate, and you realize your mistake within seconds. 

The clatter of the shard to the floor barely registers before you realize you’ve been swung around to the outside of the building, trapped between the wall and Scaramouche. Because that’s who this is now - not Kunikuzushi who’s gone through the motions of attempted reconciliation with the parts of himself he’d tried to cast off. This is the Harbinger, the Balladeer, and you’ve unintentionally played with fire. 

His eyes have grown wide with subtle fury, sclera suddenly dwarfing his irises without diminishing the effect of blazing indigo that pins you just as surely as his body does. The grip he has on your shoulders is near bruising - but only for a moment, up until you shift at the discomfort and it all seems to come rushing back to him. Where he’s at, who he’s with, what he’s been trying to do in the safety of your domain. 

As if burned, his hands rip away from you as he stumbles back one, two, three steps. Despite his lower than normal body temperature, you feel cold without him caging you in. The sun above isn’t sufficient to warm you now - not while he’s looking at you as if he’s seen a ghost. His hands shake as they hover in front of him, held aloft as if he’s afraid to bring them close to himself for fear of what he thinks he’s done. 

Scaramouche is absent once more. Dormant, but not entirely gone. You realize it now, as you should have from the very beginning. 

“Kuni-”

“Don’t.”

It’s a plea, but you’re not sure for what. It could be space, it could be forgiveness, it could be any number of things that you’d willingly give him if he only just asked for it. Rather than do anything of the sort, he simply turns on his heel and stalks across the open grass away from the mansion you called home. 

As empty as the other parts of your domain may be, something must have brought him comfort if he was seeking it out in his moment of weakness. Leaning heavily on the wall, you watch until the winding paths take him from your sight and you’re left alone - regretful and confused. 

—

Kunikuzushi doesn’t come to you again - not for the remainder of the day, not for the one following. Worry had begun to set in as you settled for the evening, yet it’s swept away neatly as you’re awoken in the night to your bed shifting. Before you can even start to protest against the intruder, you’re met with a quiet, “Sh-sh-sh”. Just the tone tells you who it is. 

Immediately you settle as he slides in next to you, close enough that he takes your body heat and bounces it back at you. As he shifts, you feel his skin against your own and an involuntary sigh leaves you - it’s undoubtedly pleased, but he makes no verbal note of it. 

He doesn’t even ask. You don’t need to give him permission. The absence of both is an open invitation for him to enter as he pleases, slipping into bed and keeping a respectable distance, yet holding your hand tightly just the same. It doesn’t take much thought to know that he feels far too alone, and sharing a space with you is the smallest comfort he needs. 

“It’s just me.”

You know.

“Can I stay here tonight? Just tonight. I won’t again.”

That’s a lie.

“Are you awake?”

Yes, but you feel adrift in your own body. Calm, relaxed, sharing warmth with him keeps you docile. It keeps your breaths even and your eyes closed. A shuddering sigh leaves him, almost as if he’s laughing nervously. You don’t even flinch as his free hand raises to your face, brushing the back of his knuckles against your cheek before his palm cradles you. 

“It’s not healthy to be this attached but I can’t stay away.” Another breath, in and out as it washes over you and pushes you further into sleep. His voice is barely a whisper, as if he fears waking you up with his nighttime confessions. The sweeping of his thumb under your eye draws a quiet hum from you - content and happy. 

“I’ll always be selfish in some way. I don’t want to lose this feeling, I don’t want to be away from you and forget how this feels. It’s safe. I can’t remember the last time I felt that.”

His confession of your existence as a source of comfort brings a full feeling to your chest, and you’re certain if you were a little more lucid, you’d be welling with tears. Yet all you can do is turn your face just enough for your lips to press against the base of his thumb, brushing in a half-hearted attempt at kissing him there. 

It makes his breath catch, and for a moment you think he realizes you’re awake. Perhaps he knows anyway, and is revealing all this to you with that knowledge in mind. A pressure on your forehead arises as he leans into you, his own forehead resting there and the tip of his nose brushing yours. You’re so warm, he’s so close, your head swims in lazy circles. 

“I’ve known of you for so long, but it’s only during our time here that I’ve come to know you. It feels silly to be this dependent on another, but I-...” A thick swallow punctuates his self-interruption, and he doesn’t continue for just long enough that you think he’s given up. Desperately, you want him to continue - to keep whispering these things to you in the quiet of the night, the barest hint of insanity lacing his voice. 

“I want to be. With you. Here, outside, wherever you are.”

It goes unsaid, but the implications are strong enough that you finally crack your eyes open to catch a glimpse of his own. The color is washed out in the shades of nighttime, leaving amethyst to fade into a cool gray that looks frantically back and forth between your own. Before he can panic, you shift close enough that your legs tangle with his own and you can curl a hand along his ribs. Your fingers slot between each one. 

It’s moving so fast, this odd dance you’ve been doing with him, yet even now you feel like you’ve known him for every one of the hundreds of years he’s wandered Teyvat. Something changed, swiftly and starting from the moment you’d witnessed his memories, and there’s been no effort on your part to stop it. 

It’s welcome. Wanted, even. His fingertips press into the skin behind your ear and you accept his guidance where he leads you - to his lips. Cool and soft and steady, not insistent like you expected. Not fervent and hysteric like you might have once experienced. Instead it’s almost like a plea for you to let him stay with you. 

Your answer is to respond in kind, letting him take what he’d like - whether that’s comfort or something more physical. A sound leaves him, similar to a whine that peters out into something breathier. It’s almost needy in a way, and strikes something inside you to give him what he’s so clearly asking for - begging for. 

The shirt he wears to bed is thin and easy for you to bunch up more and more until you can slip your hand beneath and feel his skin. It leeches your warmth, taking more and more from you as his kiss grows into that desperation you’d initially expected. Each rib is counted up to his chest, and your palm rests over his heart as if you wanted to protect it somehow. He leans into your touch, all but arching into you as you work his shirt higher. 

In the span of time it takes for him to pull away and let you remove it, he’s grown flushed and frantic. The two of you crash back together with too much force, rolling until you’re below him and he cages you in as if you keep you from running - you’re not sure you ever would want to. 

Before, when he’d just awoken with a new sort of life before him, he claimed he would keep you. But now, as he whines as you touch him - stroking down his chest, along his stomach, past his navel - begging for the opposite. “Don’t let me go. Don’t turn me away, please.”

“Never,” You swear it like an oath, a promise that you never intend to break, and the suddenness of the wetness at your neck startles you when he buries his face there. Whether he’s hiding from you or the world, you’re unwilling to let it continue. With both hands on his face you lift him and take in the sight of something that could have been mistaken for anguish if you weren’t so sure of his relief. 

He collapses in your hold as you bring him closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in a halfhearted attempt to keep him secure. There isn’t an ounce of fight in him as he molds against you - face to face, chest to chest, hips against your own insistently in a way that makes it clear what he wants. What he needs. 

“Never,” you repeat, holding him close by the back of his head, gripping him tighter to you as if to meld into one being. It wouldn’t be so bad to share yourself with him in every way possible, down to the very last molecule that makes up your being. Whatever happened in that moment with Haypasia, where you’d taken her hand and allowed her to guide you to him, it’s changed you. 

There is no regret in that thought. Perhaps if something fundamental had gone wrong, where he’d taken hold of your will and twisted you into something that suited his needs, you’d have felt more wary. Instead, it almost feels the opposite with how he grips at your hips and drags against you with movements both languid and frenetic. 

Teeth find the straining tendon of your neck, dragging along it with purpose that’s never fulfilled as he avoids leaving the marks you’d gladly accept. Any trepidation is left at the wayside as the pressure between you builds to unmanageable levels - and you want more. It’s too much, but you’d continue to let it spiral so long as you could continue to feel like this. 

“Scara-... Kunikuzushi, I need more. Please… please-”

“Anything you want.” He murmurs into your ear, teeth finally finding purchase against your earlobe shortly before pulling away. The sharpness of it makes you flinch, nearly distracting you from the way he looms above you while working at the drawstring of his pants. “Keep me by your side, and I’d do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You hummed, pushing up on your elbows to look at him more closely, silhouetted by the parted screens at his back. At your will, the moon in the sky freezes at its apex, lighting him with its coolness. 

He’s ethereal, truly a being from another plane of existence - nothing in Teyvat could compare to this. No sight in all of your travels would approach the divinity before you that stares back with tear stained cheeks and mussed hair, fingers shaking as he hooks his thumbs into the band of his pants to pull them down. 

Neither of you speak as he reaches toward you with intent, pulling your own shorts away with moves that are clumsy and unpracticed. Despite your sudden impatience, you allow him to move at his own pace here - removing your clothing, crawling up your body, smoothing the backs of his fingers along the insides of your knees before pushing them apart. His swallow is audible above the sound of crickets just outside, betraying the false confidence he’s failing to show. 

“Anything.”

His confirmation comes in three syllables that are accompanied by his breath across your wetness. Shivers make their way down your spine, culminating in your knees pressing into his shoulders on reflex. It does nothing to deter him, even if you wanted it to - you desperately do not. 

His first touches are his thumbs, spreading you apart and gazing with parted lips and a look of enraptured awe on his face. It’d almost be amusing if you weren’t blindsided by his immediate leaning in to taste. One long, flat swipe of his tongue is all it takes to make you shudder beneath him, your fingers wrapping around hair that slips smoothly between your digits. 

The pressure of your grip urges him on further. To be more adventurous, to push inside you with fingers and tongue until you’re breathless and writhing beneath him. It’s you that whines now, pleading for him to continue more and more and more. And truly, he meant anything, as his pursuit of your pleasure is tireless and without pause nor question. 

“I-I need you, I need more-”

With a deep breath, he pulls away to look at you through his lashes with no shortage of expectancy. As his lips move, the low light of the moon catches on the mixture of your pleasure and his saliva. “Soon. Let me have this, don’t be impatient.”

The scolding quiets you only slightly, just enough for him to grasp you once again with increased desperation. His fingertips dig into your thighs, harder and harder until you’re certain you’re liable to bruise. Yet you welcome it - the physical signs of Kunikuzushi on your skin. The proof of his existence here with you. 

Between the sounds of his heavy breath and the press of his tongue inside you, you’re listless and left adrift at his whim. He once claimed you were cruel, but his insistence on keeping you at the edge is far more merciless than you could have hoped to achieve. Even as you begin to plead again, begging him to just set you free, he simply hums against you as if that would be enough to placate. 

With your grip on his hair so tight, you have to be hurting him, yet tugging at his locks only urges him further. Instead of chastising you once more for your neediness, he instead indulges you. What was once teasing and exploratory becomes pinpoint and purposeful. Thin fingers that had simply pressed inside you now become three, then four that stretch you suddenly. 

It’s divine, the closest to Celestia you’re certain you’ll ever reach, and with infinite mercy he allows you to come undone around him. 

He does nothing to quiet your whines, nor does he attempt to stop you from rocking against him with near brutal force as you chase your climax despite being in the throes of it. In the apex of your release, he’s the anchor that keeps you grounded and guides you back down with softer touches and hums of approval. 

Kunikuzushi calls you home, and you’re more than willing to slump in his arms as he crawls up your body and rolls until you’re on your side with him, cradled against his collarbone that’s damp with sweat. Your heartbeat fills your ears with an erratic tempo, and a slip of your hand along his neck reveals his own is thrumming just as quickly. 

There’s nothing to say. No life changing proclamations, no confessions that would shatter the foundations of the very world you’re hiding him away from. Only the slow blink of your eyes as you stare at him in unfiltered wonder. Somehow, reality feels shifted and you can’t pinpoint exactly which axis it’s turned on. 

There’s an unmistakable pressure against your thigh when you slide it between his own. The effect is immediate - his hips roll as he chases the friction you’d teased him with, a sharp exhale that’s akin to disbelief leaves his parted lips, and his eyes unfocus for the briefest moment. His skin catches on your own as you drag your hand from his neck to his chest, then his ribs and down his side to the hip bone that juts out from his skin. All it takes is a nudge of your palm to set him into moving against you with a rhythmic rolling that provides the pleasure he’s earned.

There’s something dark and addicting about the thought of him using you for his own pleasure like this. Only the barest of input is needed from you, giving ample room for you to watch the myriad of expressions on his face. Tension, relief, the glittering of tears welling at the corners once more. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

The words leave of their own accord, but you make no attempt to stop them. All it does is make his face crumple before he turns sharply, burying it in the pillow beneath his head as if that would hide him from your sight. You’re almost tempted to let him do as he pleases, but you’re reminded of the vision you’d burned in your mind of the transcendence you’d witnessed of him in the moonlight. 

And more than anything, you want to see if it tarnishes as he comes undone, or if it refracts against itself in a dizzying whirl of colors and sensations. 

Rolling him onto his back is effortless, but his hips buck to chase you as you pull away the friction he’d been savoring. You’re far less sadistic, despite his prior insistence, and placate him by straddling his hips instead. There’s a new sort of pressure against him - one that’s wet and searing hot and all but begging for him to thrust up into it with the madness you’re certain still lurks beneath the surface.

Yet he stills, clutching the pillow at the sides of his head, suddenly afraid to touch you. Without his guidance, you’re left in control and it gives you a surge of bravado so strong that you barely attempt to stem it. Your hips roll once, and in turn his eyes roll beneath fluttering lashes. All you can make out is a half-lidded gaze as he watches you rock above him, taking his pleasure into your own hands rather than allowing him to use you himself. 

“I-I can’t… it’s too much-”

You had your suspicions, but his frantic exclamation proves that you’re treading ground with him that’s yet to be explored. On any other occasion, you’d be delighted to have him release on you, painting your skin and marking you as his own - yet this is meant to be special. 

A shift of your hips and your hand guiding him is all it takes for him to slide home easily, thanks to your own eagerness. A broken whine leaves him, cracked at the edges and scraping pleasantly against your ears as you let him bask in the moment. Beneath your splayed hands, his ribs shudder with every labored breath as he strains to make sense of what he’s feeling now. 

Below you, he seems so far away. So small as he white-knuckle grips next to his head, dangerously close to catching his own hair in the crossfire. Leaning down until you’re flush with him, you run your fingers through the indigo strands to sweep them up and out of the way, revealing the entirety of his face to you. 

Cradling his forehead with your palm, you take the chance to lean in and kiss him - softly, with all the tenderness you can put forth. It tastes sweet on your tongue, clinging saccharine to your teeth even as you pull away and marvel as the flush of his cheeks, the wetness traveling down his temples and into the fabrics beneath him. 

His time is up, and you give him no more time to adjust as you rock your hips enough for him to slide partly out, then all the way to the base again. His pupils seem to shrink as his eyes snap open, staring sightlessly over your shoulder as you move slowly. Permanently catatonic, you’d categorize him as such while you focus on his bliss while taking this from him.

“Touch me.” When he doesn’t respond, you coo, “Kunikuzushi…”

“I-I… I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or won’t?”

It’s a tease. Surely he’d give in if he were able to, but it’s impossible to resist goading him when he looks so thoroughly broken beneath you. Your fingers trace his hairline again, asynchronous to the rolling of your hips, and you hum in acknowledgment as he swallows thickly to answer, “I-I’m going to… Please, I don’t... it’s too…”

Fragments of sentences are all he can give to you, but you understand his desperation just the same. His cheek is cool against your own as you lean closer, murmuring into his ear, “Go ahead. Fill me up. Claim me. I’m all yours, and you’re mine.”

It could’ve been a number of things. The reassurance, the closeness, the promise of letting fate entwine the two of you so tightly that there’d be no undoing such a tangle. Any one of them could have led him into throwing his arms around you and crushing you to his chest as he writhes. A choked sob leaves him, muffled by your shoulder as he all but buries himself in you in every sense of the word. 

And you let him, the only sound you make is one of surprise as he releases into you with force, doing exactly as you told him to. In the wake of his climax is a series of full-body shudders, barely contained by the way he anchors himself to you with all his strength. Thin fingers feel like knives as they dig into your shoulder blades, his elbows hooking beneath your arms to lock you in. 

The sound of his breath in your ear is like waves crashing on rocks, like rain on a metal roof - loud, all consuming, washing out the rest of the world if you let it. And you do, without complaint and without hesitation as you let him writhe against you in search of the last dregs of his pleasure that he’s found with you. 

He doesn’t relent. Not as his movements stop, not as you pull away enough to kiss along the column of his neck and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and not as his breathing picks up speed and shortness again. If it were anyone else, you’d have made a comment about the tears that wet your shoulder - but he’s in a league of his own. 

All you do is roll until you’re on your back once more, cradling him with your arms and thighs as the dam breaks and you wait patiently for the torrent to subside. 

The moon stays exactly where you willed it.

[thebest-medicine]

Sensitive

Critical Role - C2 Mighty Nein - lee!Caleb, ler!Mollymauk - Widomauk - [read on ao3]

Summary: Wizards are weak and sensitive, poor things… Molly enjoys working Caleb up.

A/N: a short little something with a pinch of spice

Words: 640

…

Taking hold of Caleb’s ankle to spread his legs apart, Molly looked surprised when the wizard went still, tensing. He looked up to find a goofy, anxious grin, one that seemed odd for Caleb to be wearing alongside a blush.

“What is it?” Molly asked, his tone soothing.

“S-Sorry, I just—” Caleb laughed and it was the sweetest sound. “I thought for a second you were about to tickle me..”

“Oh?” A sly smirk overtook Mollymauk’s features. “And what if I did?”

Caleb’s blush grew. “I-I’ve just fucked myself, haven’t I…”

He looked delicious, like a nervous little rabbit. “Well no one’s fucking themselves tonight that’s for sure.” Molly winked.

He took the ankle in his hand, taking his time to examine the foot before him. He leaned in close and placed a gentle kiss to the tip of the human’s toes. “And as much as I’d love to—and I will—tug on the love-ly thread you’ve just laid out for me… I have something else on my mind right now.” He kissed again, just under the toes. “So giving you a good and thorough tickle will have to wait.”

Caleb let out a nervous little laugh.

Molly continued. “You know, I prefer my lovers sensitive, really.” He kissed at the ball of Caleb’s foot. A wobbly grin grew further on Caleb’s face at the delicate sensation of another kiss from Molly—and it only increased as more kisses followed, trailing down the bottom of his foot, around the inside of his ankle, and up the side of his shin. “Much easier to… work them up.” He kissed up to Caleb’s knee, crawling his way slowly along and up the man’s body. “Many more erogenous zones.”

Caleb twitched as lips brushed along the skin of his thigh and up to the last meager layer of clothing he had yet to shed. A shivering tension built in Caleb’s frame and radiated out through his limbs — it was like a small injection of lightning and warmth at the press of each kiss, at every tingling spot Molly’s purple skin met his own.

Mollymauk nuzzled briefly into Caleb’s inner thigh and he squirmed delightfully. Molly could feel the heat and pressure coming off the space where his thighs met, raising the flimsy fabric from where it usually fell. Caleb let out a small gasp, his head falling back against the mattress as Mollymauk kissed right at that spot, gentle as ever. The wizard’s eyes fell closed and he twitched his hips forward for more when Molly pulled away, only to return with a kiss to the waistband of his undergarments. Caleb whined. Molly simply continued, kissing along his stomach, which twitched each time he came back in to pepper another kiss. The kisses trailed higher as Molly enjoyed his exploration of Caleb — he liked to take his time. And, it was obvious Caleb was growing more worked up and more sensitive—not to mention desperate—by the moment.

When he made it up to Caleb’s nipple, he caught it in his teeth for a moment, then continued on in his path of kisses. Caleb bit his lip when Molly made his way over his collarbone and up onto the side of his neck. Molly nuzzled in, kissing gently.

Caleb giggled sweetly, and Mollymauk pulled back to look at him. “Next time, I’ll use a little tongue, hm?” He waggled his eyebrows with a grin.

Caleb shivered at the thought, a wide smile still on his face as Molly returned to trailing kisses back down, toward the straining warmth between his legs.

This time around, Molly’s hands tucked into the waistband, and Caleb flinched for a split second at the contact —sensitive indeed. He tugged the material downward slowly as his lips kissed their way down the trail of hair beneath Caleb’s bellybutton.

[ashwhowrites]

Yay! Requests are open!!! Can I get a smutty Eddie fic, where the reader is pregnant and they have sex, and it ends up inducing her labor. I feel like after the initial panic of "it's happening! it's happening!" Eddie would be so smug about it lol

I love this. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

No idea how the process of labor is so this might be very unrealistic

⚠️smut, daddy and momma nicknames

A bit of daddy's help

Y/N had been pregnant for a very long nine months. Her belly was huge and she could barely move around. At first she loved being pregnant, but now she wanted that baby out.

Eddie loved her pregnant glow, and he didn't want it to end. He loved helping her and being right beside her. He adored that she was growing their baby and he was happy it was with her.

He did feel bad for her. He knew how much it tore her body down, and how tired it made her. He did his best help. He rubbed her feet, he helped her walk, and he'd hold her stomach just to give her some relief. He'd do anything she asked.

~~~

"Still no baby," she grumbled as she wobbled out of the bathroom. "Spicy food? No go."

Eddie sat on the bed, with a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, baby." He said, she made her way on the bed. He held the blanket up as she slid in.

She sighed tiredly as the small movement sucked all the energy out of her. Eddie softly rubbed her stomach as he tried to soothe her.

"He'll come when he's ready" he said but her eyes snapped to him with a glare.

"He's on my time and I want him out now!" She growled.

Eddie tried to bite back his smile as he looked at her annoyed face.

"I know," he said, he leaned in and pecked her lips softly. He continued to rub her stomach, watching as her breathing calmed. "Was there anything else to try?" He asked. They have been through most of the list the doctor gave them but he wasn't sure what was left.

"There's one more thing," she said as she smiled. Her hand rested on top of his that was on her stomach.

"what's that?" Eddie asked

"Sex"

Eddie felt like his prayers were answered. A huge smile broke across his face.

"On it"

She laughed as he immediately stripped off his shirt. His tattooed chest came into sight as she felt herself already getting warm.

He leaned back down and held her face as he softly pressed his lips against hers. The kiss started sweet and gentle, but it didn't last long. Her hands were in his hair as he deepened the kiss. He kept one hand on her face as he slipped his tongue inside of her mouth. She moaned as she felt his tongue working against hers. He let his other hand wander down her body, slipping underneath her night tank top as he rubbed her belly.

The more he touched her, the more the kiss got hungry. Eddie having a huge pregnancy kink wasn't a shock to either of them. He waited years to fuck her without a condom, to fill her up with his cum. He craved to watch her belly grow and knowing it tied them together for life. He loved that anyone would see her on the street and know she was owned.

He pulled away for a few seconds before he kissed her again. Her left hand worked down his neck and down his back. He shivered as he felt her wedding ring tickle his skin, a reminder she was his for life.

He moaned as her tongue took charge of the kiss, and her right hand yanked on his hair as she pulled away.

"Ready to show me what you got, Daddy?" she purred

Eddie shivered at the name, his cock twitching in his boxers.

"Did you forget I'm the one responsible for the noise complaints? For filling you up so fucking good you got pregnant?" He challenged, a smirk on his face as he felt her body shudder.

He took his time to strip off her clothes. Removing her tank top and groaning at the sight of her swollen breasts and nipples. He reached forward, gently kissing the skin and flicking her nipples with his tongue. She moaned at the feeling, her hands in his hair. He moved down to her stomach, his big hands rubbing her bump as he kissed all around.

He didn't stay there long, removing his lips to strip the rest of her clothes, her hands losing the grip of his hair. He softly trailed up her legs, teasing her as he made it up to her thighs. He slowly trailed down her shorts. He enjoyed how she whimpered as she grew impatient. Then he tugged down her underwear, smiling at the sight of her puffy cunt.

"Gorgeous," he pissed as his lips softly kissed her clit. She jolted and her hands went back to his hair.

He didn't spend too much time between her legs. He knew both of them were so turned on that foreplay wasn't needed. But he still had to have a little taste. His mouth sucked on her clit as his fingers slipped inside of her.

Her head was thrown back as his skilled tongue and fingers worked together. She gripped at his hair and wanted to lift her hips but her body was too heavy. He made the most of it, his head twisting back and forth as he let his tongue touch everywhere.

She panted when he came back up for air. His chin soaked in her wetness, she clawed at his chest from the sight. He wiped his mouth and slammed his lips against hers, his fingers slipping out of her.

"Ready?" He breathed out, his body on top of her as he panted. His brown eyes look into hers for an honest answer.

"Yes," she said without a beat.

Eddie smiled and took off his boxers, lazily tossing them anywhere. He helped her turn on her side, then he went behind her. His lips were on her neck as he lifted her leg and placed it over his hip.

He listened to her sounds as he trailed his hand down and rubbed her swollen clit, she was so sensitive that she felt everything intensely. He rubbed her clit then slipped his pulsing cock inside of her.

He let out a loud moan as he continued to slip inside of her, her hands gripped the pillows as he sat fully inside of her. He was slow and soft at first, making sure she was comfortable. His left hand was under her head and his right played with her clit.

She loved feeling his hard chest against her back, the feeling of it slamming against her with each thrust. She could feel her eyes in the back of her head from feeling his hot breath against her neck. His growls and groans right into her ear.

"Love fucking you. Always feel so good wrapped around me," his words were hot in her ear as she shook. She whined at the compliments, her brain mush as she felt her body being taken care of in ways only her husband could.

"Just wanted Daddy's help to have a baby, huh?" He teased, he wished he had another hand available to rub her stomach. He was obsessed.

"Yes," she moaned, "yes, yes" her moans got louder as he went faster.

He could feel his heavy balls slamming against her. He didn't want to be too rough, clenching his jaw as he held himself back. This wasn't about him, it was to help her and help her have an orgasm.

"Need," she whimpered, her arm reaching back to touch him. She let her head wander until she felt his head. She gripped his hair as he growled louder.

"Need to cum?" He asked, his lips on her cheek

His fingers worked faster on her clit as she nodded. "Please,"

"Be daddy's good momma and cum all over me. Cum all over my fat cock,"

His words washed over like her orgasm. She felt that snap in her body as she gasped. The feeling went from head to toe as she came. Eddie fucked her through it, his fingers faster than ever against her clit as her leg shook on his hip.

When her moans turned to whines, he pulled his hand away. Softly thrusting inside of her, slowing down until his hips came to a full stop.

He slipped his soaked, still red and hard cock out of her.

"How was that?" Eddie panted as he moved her leg off of him and turned her on her back. His sweaty back against the mattress, he turned his head to look at her.

"Reminds me why I got pregnant in the first place," she laughed as she turned her head to look at him.

She squirmed as she took in his sweaty hair, his big smile with his perfect teeth, and the way his cheeks scrunched up. Her eyes moved down to his chest as it moved up and down quickly. Down his happy trail, following the line of hair, his dark curls and his thin hips peeked out from the sheet. The rest of his body was covered under the thin material.

"And that look reminds me why I got you pregnant," Eddie's chuckle turned into a moan as she turned her body and attached her lips to his neck.

"I don't feel anything, let's go again." She said against his skin

"Why don't we give it a second? We don't know how long it could take," Eddie explained through quiet groans as her hand began to travel down his chest. He could feel her cold wedding band against his hot skin, making him shiver.

He whined as she pulled her lips away, and her hand stopped right above his hard cock.

"I'm sorry. Are you saying you don't want to have sex again?" Her tone was accusing but she knew her husband. If sex was on the table, he was grabbing a chair.

"I just don't want to overdo it," he said softly

"Yeah I guess you're right," she sighed disappointed. She pulled herself away with a loud huff.

"We've been together for four years and married for one, and now you pick to listen to me?" Eddie asked in disbelief. "Come ride me, momma." He said with a smile as he tossed the sheet off of him.

She squealed with delight as she started to sit up, he helped her love gently and slowly. He eased her body on top of his, rubbing her thighs to soothe her as she got into the right position.

"I knew you wouldn't say no," she said with a smug smile, placing her hands on his hard chest.

"What's that saying?" he teased, his hot lips attaching to her neck. "Momma knows best?" she shuddered as he nipped at her skin.

He shuddered as she grabbed his cock, pumping it inside her hand before she lined his tip with her entrance.

His head fell against her chest as she sunk down on him, she took her hands off his chest. She leaned back and placed her palms on his thighs. The muscular and hairy skin underneath her hands.

He picked up his head as she softly began to move herself on top of him. He moved his left hand to hold her hip, softly encouraging her as she rolled her hips.

His right hand went straight for her bump. He softly rubbed her stomach as his eyes watched her body. Her eyes closed with bliss, the sweat on her hairline and the sweat that dripped down her chest.

Her body was a work of art and it always captivated him.

"So glad I married you," he smiled as he reached forward and cupped her face. Making her press her lips against him, her hands on his chest to balance. He felt her smile into the kiss.

He let her go back into her comfortable position, her hands back on his thighs. He clenched them as she gripped, her nails dug into the skin.

He reached forward and rubbed her clit.

The immediate touch was almost enough to make her cum. She panted hard as she lifted her hips as fast as she could to slam back down.

With a few more touches to her clit and Eddie bucking his hips up, had her cumming all over again.

But this time

She felt more than just cum soaking them, then he followed after. Moaning as he came inside of her.

"Is that?" Eddie asked, his eyes wide as he looked at the sheets.

"Stand me up!" She rushed out.

Eddie was quick to lift up her hips, his cum now adding to the mess below. He panicked as he slipped out from under her, he grabbed her hands and helped her off the bed.

As she stood, more liquid came out of her.

"It's happening!" She panicked, her eyes scared as she looked at her husband.

"Shh, it's okay! Let's get you dressed." He was quick to slip a shirt of his on her and some clean boxers.

He kissed her face, a big smile on his face.

"We're having a baby!" He said in awe

"NOT HERE! GET ME IN THE CAR!" she screamed.

He nodded and dressed himself as fast as he could. He grabbed all the bags and dropped them at the front door.

Then he grabbed her, helping her waddle to the car. He got her placed in the seat as a sharp pain went through her. She grabbed his hand and hissed through her teeth.

"Breath, baby, breathe," he said as he clenched his jaw. Her grip bruised his hand.

"I am BREATHING YOU BASTARD!"

"Where was that tone five minutes ago?" He teased, laughed at her glare, and kissed her nose. He ran back into the house and grabbed the bags.

Then he was off to the hospital

He reached over to let her hold his hand.

"I know you are terrified but I want you to know one thing," he said, his head turned to look at her.

She breathed as she looked over at him.

"I fucked you into labor," he said with a big smirk and wink sent her way.

"Oh shit, now that's all I'm gonna hear for the rest of my life." She said as she rolled her eyes.

~~~

"I can't believe you guys have a baby," Steve said softly as he looked at the small boy in Eddie's arms. Y/N slept in the bed beside them.

"I can't believe she allowed you to have sex with her," Robin laughed, her eyes on the little boy behind Steve

"Jealous?" Eddie snapped, a smirk on his face as she rolled her eyes.

"How did her water break? I want the whole story!" Nancy squealed excitedly.

The big smirk on Eddie's face got even more smug, which no one thought was possible.

"Well, we tried everything the doctor said, and the last thing on the list was all in my hands." The group looked at him confused as he continued to explain. "So, being the amazing husband I am. I turned her on her side and grabbed her left leg to put it on my hip. Then I slipped inside of her. Sweet and slow, she was so we-"

"WE GOT IT!" Dustin yelled as he covered his ears.

"You could have just said sex," Nancy said as she gagged.

"You wanted the whole story!" Eddie defended, "but the first time wasn't enough to induce the labor...or was enough for her." He gave a wink to Steve who rolled his eyes. "So we went at it again, like minutes later. She was all over me." Eddie bragged. "After her second orgasm, that was when she went into labor."

"Can't believe such a disgusting thing led to something beautiful," Dustin said, patiently waiting for his turn to hold the baby.

"Oh Dusty," Eddie laughed, "nothing about it was disgusting. Just you wait." Eddie said as he handed the baby off to Steve. Leaving his hands free to slam down on Dustin's shoulders.

"It'll be the best time of your life," he said as he walked over to her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead as she slept.

"You and him for the rest of my life."

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[pseudowho]

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JJK multi-character fics

Nanami Kento Masterlist

Updated: 28th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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🔥 Smut 💔 Angst 💕 Romance

☕ Comfort/Fluff 🤡 Clowning

🐙 Monsterfucking. 📚 Education (*dirty laugh*)

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1st of December 🔥☕💕 -- No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.

7:3 🤡 -- Nanami Kento never thought about his 7:3 pattern...a fourth wall breaking moment.

"Dad Reflexes" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕☕-- Nanami Kento can catch anything.

Daylight Robbery 💕☕🔥-- when Gojo asks Nanami to cuckold him and his fiancée, things don't go the way Gojo planned...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma sex-pollen threesome.

Ditch the Party 🔥💕-- Nanami Kento hates parties. But the drinks? The drinks make him bold.

Domain Expansion theory-- Pseudowho's vision of Nanami Kento's domain expansion.

Edging Nanami Kento 🔥💕-- The reader drives Nanami Kento to the edge and back again.

Fire and Iron 💕☕🔥-- AU!Nanami Kento is the town blacksmith, and the reader is forced to stay the night after tending to his wounds.

Full 🔥☕💕-- Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.

Glory Glory 🔥☕💕-- "Help, I'm stuck!" on a mission with Kento, and he takes full advantage of the compromising position.

Good Boy 🔥💕-- after a bad day, you know exactly what Kento needs to help him relax...

Good Girl 💕🤡 -- a drabble

Grandpapamin ☕💕-- Nanami Kento as a grandfather, Headcanons.

Grey 🔥💔💕-- The reader lives a vigilante life; so does Nanami Kento, a changed man after the events of Shibuya. When she is sent to hunt him down, Nanami Kento has a proposition for her.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part One ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part Two ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Christmas ⛄🎄 Headcanons ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader Headcanons.

Hanahaki 💕☕💔-- being in love with you is killing Nanami Kento.

Hide and Seek 🔥-- Game night gets spicy.

"How well can you drive?" 🔥 -- the reader takes matters into her own mouth so Kento can prove his driving skills.

Infiltration (MULTI-CHAPTER) 🔥☕💔💕

(COMPLETE!) --the reader and Nanami Kento must pretend to be married, infiltrating a Curse-user cult to take it down from the inside.

Chapter One: Introduction

Chapter Two: Pillow Talk

Chapter Three: Deadly Games

Chapter Four: The Rumbling Shrine

Chapter Five: Breaking Point

Chapter Six: Exposed

Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess

Chapter Eight: Unchained

In From the Cold ☕🔥💕-- The reader wanders in the snow, lost and injured after a mission gone wrong; will Nanami Kento save her?

Kento Comes Home Drunk 🔥💕-- and the reader handles his advances like a total champ.

And, its sequel... Reader Comes Home Drunk 🔥 💕-- where Kento manages the reader's advances like an absolute champ.

Knismolagnia 🔥💕-- Kento has a somewhat...erotic response to being tickled.

Last Moments 💔☕-- Nanami Kento remembers a childhood holiday.

Nanami Kento, and the Curses of an Unusual Nature (MULTI-CHAPTER) -- Nanami Kento is deemed the only Sorcerer sensible enough to handle some frankly weird Curses

- Chapter 1: Gone Shopping 🤡 -- locals are going missing at a large shopping centre; Nanami Kento is sent to investigate.

Nanami Kento's Massive Squeezable Man Tiddies 🔥☕-- the reader being casually obsessed with Kento's chest...repost link HERE!

Operation Babymaker (a new series!) 💕💔🔥☕ -- Nanami Kento takes trying for a baby very seriously indeed.

A Trip to the Tailors-- the reader reveals she's been off the pill for months, and Kento cannot contain himself.

Benchpress-- the reader interrupts Kento's workout, and is manhandled into submission.

Ditch the Party...again-- tipsy Kento is back, and deadlier than ever.

Wet Dreams-- Kento gives the reader a free-pass for when he's asleep...and he returns the favour

Raising You ☕💔💕-- When the reader is de-aged by a Curse, Nanami is forced to raise her like a daughter.

Red 🔥💔-- Nanami Kento, the infamous Curse-user, has been on the run for years...what will you do when he catches up to you?

Resolute ☕💔💕-- The reader helps Nanami to accept that he has a drinking problem.

Seasons of Grief 🔥💔💕☕ -- The reader supports Nanami Kento through the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death, and afterwards, when Kento nearly loses the reader

Shirtsleeves 🔥 -- The reader steals Kento's last shirt, and receives her comeuppance.

Still Got It ☕💕-- The Nanami kids' parents are boring...right?

Stoic 💕🔥-- Kento is furious when Gojo assumes that his lack of PDA towards the reader shows a lack of desire.

The Accumulation of Little Despairs ☕💔💕 -- The reader struggles with low-mood; Nanami Kento comes to the rescue

The Chase 🔥💕-- The reader has insisted on No-Nut November; Nanami Kento gets his revenge by hunting her down and taking his reward.

Why I love Nanami Kento

Yet Another Sex Pollen Fic, PART ONE 🔥💕

And...PART TWO 🔥💕 -- the reader has a problem... and only Nanami Kento can help her scratch the itch.

Higuruma Hiromi Masterlist

Updated: 6th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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Calamus et Gladius (the pen and the sword) 🔥💕💔☕-- slow-burn, enemies to lovers Culling Game smut with Higuruma and a foreign reader

Daddy 🔥☕💕-- dating apps are a hazard for men like Higuruma Hiromi...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Higuruma x Reader x Nanami sex-pollen threesome

Fellatio 🔥-- the bathtub lawyer receives head in his office.

Fumus et Ignis 🔥💕-- sometimes, Hiromi smokes and ties you up while he makes you ride him.

Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm Stuck!' with Hiromi, two bottles of wine and a compromising position with his gavel.

Hiromi and Nemo ☕-- tales of Higuruma Hiromi, and his little black cat.

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship Headcanons ☕🔥💕

In Flagrante Delicto 💔☕🔥💕-- Higuruma struggles to adapt to life as a sorcerer, refusing all of your offers to help...until he needs you.

"I've Committed a Crime" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕-- Higuruma is a ruthless tease

Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain 💔🔥💕-- The reader throws Higuruma out of their home after they struggle to adapt to his new Cursed power...and the reader must then hunt him down in the Culling Game, to bring him home.

Men with Big Noses 🔥💕-- you reveal a kink for Higuruma's nose, and he shows you exactly what he can do with that.

Milk and Honey 💕🔥-- Hiromi is obsessed with your milk, and loves you while you sleep.

Office Besties ☕💕-- Hiromi and you are just friends...right?

Sanguis et Vinum 🔥💕-- period sex with Higuruma

Shower drabble ☕💕-- Higuruma comforts you after a bad day.

The Stairwell 🔥💕-- You've been teasing Higuruma all day at the office; he catches up to you, eventually.

Vinum Rubrum 🔥💕-- wine is better when you share a glass...and your mouths.

The Widow's Keeper ☕💔💕-- The reader and Higuruma traverse the complexities of love and grief, after the death of Nanami Kento, her first husband.

"Your Honour" Ask and Drabble 💕🤡🔥-- Hiromi forgets your name as he cums.

Suguru Geto Masterlist

Updated: 23rd February 2024

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Deadly Nightshade 🐙🔥💕-- a Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Kamo Choso Masterlist

Updated: 28th December 2023

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm stuck!' on a mission together, and virgin Choso is offered the opportunity of a lifetime.

Snowhere to Go ☕💕-- When your date plans are foiled by the snow, you and Choso make your own fun with a stack of old board games.

Aoi Todo Masterlist

Updated: 27th January 2024

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Act of the Soul 🔥-- Aoi Todo uses his Boogie Boogie on the reader during sex.

JJK's Multi-Character Masterlist

Updated: 31st March 2024

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Being gross in long-term comfortable relationships ☕💕-- with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Yuuta, Maki, Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji and Ino

"Cumfaces" Ask and Drabble 🤡

Defending Your Honour ☕💕-- the JJK boys are sick of the creeps and perverts who harass our dear reader.

Nanami, Todo and Geto

Higuruma, Ino and Yuuji

Gojo, Megumi and Nobara, Inumaki and Toji

Firemen 💔☕💕-- the JJK Crew rescue the Reader, and fall in love at the same time.

Nanami and Higuruma Aesthetics: ☕ 'Besto Friendos' dichotomies

Neat Suit/Messy Suit

Cold Anger/Hot Anger

"Stay down!" Fighter/"Get Up!" Fighter

City-Skyline Penthouse/Converted-Factory Penthouse aesthetics

IKEA Flat-pack Aesthetics

How They Ejaculate 🔥📚-- a physiological ejaculation study of Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Toji, Higuruma and TrueForm!Sukuna

Penis Synonym Smutfics 🤡🔥 -- with Nanami Kento, Hiromi Higuruma, Takuma Ino, Gojo Satoru and Inumaki Toge

Penpals (a Panda fic) 🐼☕-- he didn't mean to Catfish you. Honestly.

Shower Mat 🔥💕-- the reader buys an 'old lady shower mat'...that makes shower shenanigans suddenly possible.

Takuma Ino as a Young Dad ☕💕-- when Takuma unexpectedly becomes a father...

The Rebounds 🔥💕-- Yuuta and Maki show you the date of your life, after you're dumped

They Find You Wearing This...Unsexy Monstrosity 🤡 -- with Itadori Yuuji, Satoru Gojo, Higuruma, Sukuna, Toji, Nanami and Suguru

[tightjeansjavi]

honey pot 🍯

(Mood board is just for aesthetics! Reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color)

A/N: so after watching a very ✨spicy✨ video, I came up with this deliciously filthy idea of neighbor!joel becoming your fuck buddy. The only problem? You have a boyfriend already 🤭 just a disclaimer, I do not condone cheating and this fic might not be for everyone, and that’s okay!

~word count: 2.7k~

Summary: you’ve been fucking your hot neighbor, Joel Miller, all summer without your boyfriend finding out until you end up faking an orgasm with him. You tell Joel that you can no longer see him, and he comes up with a solution that works for the both of you.

pairing | hot neighbor!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: smut, age gap (Joel is 36 reader is 25) infidelity/cheating (done to the readers bf) dom/sub, daddy kink, unprotected piv, praise kink, pet names: baby, angel, sweetness, petal, fluff, consent, some angst??pussy play, we can’t fuck, but we can do other things! Joel is a real good filthy talker, reader and Joel are down bad for one another, helping hand vibes, fwb/fuck buddy, smut with no plot, reader has no physical descriptions but keeps her genitalia groomed, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

You had been fucking your ridiculous, sinfully hot neighbor for the entirety of the summer. It started off as some innocent nonchalant flirting that you thought was harmless. What your boyfriend didn’t know, wouldn’t harm him, right? Besides, you were feeling deeply neglected in your current relationship. The honeymoon phase had worn off, and you were feeling frustrated and lonely on most nights. Guess football and guys night held a higher importance than his relationship with you. Well, so be it then. You could play the good little girlfriend that your boyfriend wanted you to be..and still have your cake and eat it.

That’s why falling head over heels for your neighbor Joel Miller was as easy as sliced pie. It was early June when you found a bouquet of fresh wildflowers on your front porch step with a note attached to one of the stems. It read, ‘Out of all the flowers in the patch, you are by far the prettiest petal.’ -J.M

So, he was hot and poetic? What more could you really want?

It was the following Friday that Joel finally got the courage to show up on your front step. He barely was able to ask you if you’d like to come over for dinner that evening when you blurted out an enthusiastic ‘yes!’

Joel was hot, poetic, and he could fucking cook? Yeah, you were positively screwed in the best way possible. Not only could he cook, but he actually showed interest in you. Your hobbies, your likes and dislikes, and for the first time in months, you actually felt like you were being appreciated.

So, it came as no surprise that after you both indulged his cooking skills, that you proceeded to let him ravage you on the table. Yours and his clothes were practically shredded to the floor as he kissed and licked every inch of your skin like a man starved. He made you cum more times in that evening than you thought was even possible, and my god, his cock? Jesus christ, you’re getting wet all over again just thinking about how it felt like he was splitting you in two, filling you to the fucking brim as you cried out his name and begged for more. Faster, harder, oh please, daddy, don’t stop!

“Yeah? You want more of daddy’s cock? S’that what you want?” He nearly purred as his sweat stained curls lightly tickled your forehead. His eyes were glued to the spot where your bodies were connected. He sucked in a harsh breath as his vision glazed over at the sight of your pretty little pussy tugging his cock right back in with each of his heavy thrusts.

“See the way your pussy is huggin’ my cock so tight? Pullin’ me right back in? Look how fuckin’ pretty she is, baby. Think she is the prettiest pussy I've ever seen in my entire life. She’s all mine, right? C’mon, my petal, I needa hear ya say it.” His nostrils flared as he licked hungrily into your mouth. He was consuming every last bit of you, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

“Yours, daddy! All yours.” You whined as your walls clenched down like a tight fist around his cock.

All good things must come to an end unfortunately, and your little fantasy that had been fulfilled every evening that summer, was going to have to end. That stupid boyfriend of yours was beginning to catch on ever since he caught you faking an orgasm the last time you and him had sex. Oops?

It physically pained you to even think about cutting ties with Joel. He was unconditionally good to you. All he asked for was your company. He didn’t need to ask; it was already his.

The leaves were beginning to change with the seasons as fall was approaching on the horizon. It was nearing five in the evening when you heard the all too familiar sound of Joel’s truck tires grinding over the cement. His driver side door swung shut as his footsteps neared your front steps. He was home from work, and immediately he wanted to see you. Nothing else mattered to him except seeing your pretty face.

You were pacing nervously in the front hallway as you went over the exact words you were going to tell him. We can be friends, right? Right. After you’ve spent months in his sheets, and he in yours, you’re just going to be friends? Fat chance.

You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of his knuckles rapping lightly on your front door as you wringed your hands together, taking a few deep breaths before you grasped the door handle in your palm and pulled it open.

“Hey, baby. Lookin’ gorgeous as usual.” Your fuck buddy drawled with that low, deep, texas twang of his as he leaned his elbow right up against the doorjamb.

Oh, fuck. You could feel a gush between your thighs just from the way he was leaning against your damn door.

Stay strong. Don’t fold. Don’t fold. Don’t–

“S’matter, baby? Everything’ all good n’that pretty head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side as a frown slowly spread across his lips when he saw your eyes suddenly grow glassy as a stray tear wobbled down your cheek.

“Baby–” He started, but you cut him off.

“We can’t fuck anymore, Joel.” You painfully muttered as his hand reached out to warmly cup your face while his thumb lightly brushed away your tear.

“Baby, what’s goin’ on? Somethin’ happen?” He sounded genuinely concerned as more tears began to fall and land on his bronzed skin.

“It’s my boyfriend,” You sniffled solemnly. “He knows, Joel.” Your misty dewdrop eyes met his calm gaze as he let out a soft breath between his parted lips.

“Oh, baby..I'm so sorry. I thought we were bein–’”

“Careful? Yeah, I did too.”

“How does he know?..”

“I faked an orgasm with him the last time we had sex which I think it was a week ago? Well, he grew suspicious after that. I’m so sorry, Joel. I never meant for things to get this messy.” You truly did feel awful for dragging Joel into all of this, and you never had the intention to hurt him.

“Baby, s’alright. Y’know what ain't alright? That stupid boyfriend of yours still not knowing how to treat his fuckin’ girl right. You’d think by now the guy would have some idea of how he should be treating you.” Joel held in a scoff as his hand that wasn’t presently caressing your cheek, dropped down to your waist as he pulled you in close. “I..guess this is goodbye then?”

“I don’t want it to be.” You murmured softly as you leaned into his comforting touch along your needy skin.

“Baby, y’know..it doesn’t have to be a goodbye then.” The gears in his brain were already beginning to twist and turn as he thought of a viable solution to your little problem.

“What do you mean? Joel, i’m serious, we can’t fuck anymore.”

“Sweetness, I know we can’t, and I respect that. I’ll never put my dick inside of ya again, unless you ask. But, I do think I have a solution for our little problem.”

Your pupils nearly doubled in size as the tip of his thumb dragged down across your lower lip as he tugged the soft flesh gently. His eyes bore deeply into yours as your thighs subconsciously rubbed together to relieve the building tension that was growing in the pit of your stomach.

“What is your solution, Joel? I’m all ears.”

“Well, first, I was hopin’ I could get a kiss. Been thinkin’ about these pretty lips and how badly I wanna kiss ‘em the second I walked through that door.” He rasped warmly.

Your immediate reaction was to loop your arms around his neck and close the smidge of a gap between the two of you before firmly pressing your lips against his. You licked into one another’s mouth with the same amount of passion. You could taste a morsel of tobacco along his tongue; must have bummed a smoke off of Tommy, as his hand that was wrapped firmly around your waist, slowly drifted down as he grabbed a handful of your left ass-cheek. A surprise squeak slipped past your lips as your tongues tangled.

“So, we can’t fuck, but there’s somethin’ else we can do..” He trailed off as he slowly detached his lips from yours. A string of saliva was visible between your once linked lips.

“You are not fucking sticking your dick up my ass. Don’t even think about it.”

He stifled a chuckle before stealing one more quick kiss. “Baby, I wasn’t thinkin’ about stickin’ my dick up your ass. I promise. I had somethin’ else in mind. Can I show you what I'm talkin’ about?”

You were weary at first, because what could he possibly have in mind? Going down on you? Okay, sure. You certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, but if that was the case, why didn’t he just say it?

“Okay, I want you to show me what you’re talking about.” You agreed.

“Good girl. I promise this will be worth your while baby.” He pressed a tender kiss to your temple before he reached for your hand. Your fingers interlaced as he proceeded to lead you up the stairs to your bedroom. Your panties were undeniably soaked at this point, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Go’n sit on the bed for me, darlin.’” He spoke firmly, yet softly as you padded over to your bed and slowly sunk down along the comforter.

“Now, sweetness, before you start worryin’ your pretty little mind about that silly boyfriend of yours, I promise that he won’t know about this.”

You dumbly nodded as you crossed one leg over the other, awaiting his next request.

“I trust you, daddy.” You softly cooed.

“Good girl. Now, I want you to take your pants off for me, baby.”

You wasted no time to pop the button off your jeans as you dragged the zipper down. You started shimmying the denim fabric down your thighs and legs, but before you could even grasp the band of your panties, he was stopping you.

“No, no, Angel. Jus’ your pants. Keep your panties on.”

Why was that so hot.

You slipped your thumbs out from under the thin elastic band of your panties before you kicked your jeans to the side. Your mouth began to water the moment you heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle clinking open.

“Good girl. Now, I jus’ want you to lay your pretty ass on the comforter. Spread your thighs a little, but not too much.”

You could feel the wet patch pooling through the thin fabric of your panties as you slowly leaned back on your elbows along the comforter and spread your thighs just enough that he could fit between them.

Your pussy pulsed inwards the second your eyes landed on his bare cock that was hanging out of the opening in his jeans. You nearly drooled as he swiped his thumb across his ruddy weeping tip that had a bead of pre-cum drooling from the small slit. He twisted his wrist a couple times before he slowly approached you.

His lips curved upwards in a sly grin when he saw the cock-dumb look on your pretty face. You took your lower lip harshly between your teeth when you felt the rough skin of his thumb brush across your covered aching clit as he gently rubbed the swollen nub in tight expert circles. His freehand was still wrapped around the base of hs cock as he watched your face twist into pleasure.

“Y’know, it makes me so fuckin’ mad that you ain’t bein’ treated right. The only weepin’ you and your pretty pussy should be doin’ is the good kind. Y’got literal honey drippin’ between your thighs, darlin.’ He oughta start worshipin’ you sooner, before someone else ends up doin’ it for him.” He tsked under his breath.

“Joel,” You whimpered wantonly.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m gonna respect your wishes n’not fuck you, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t make ya feel good. I’ll always take care of you, angel. No silly boyfriend of yours can stop me from treatin’ you right.” He murmured as he dragged his thumb down to the inside of your panties. He gently hooked his thumb around the damp fabric before he pulled it to the side. His mouth went dry at the sight of your glistening, puffy, needy little pussy. When it came to women, he didn’t mind their choices to never shave, or to just trim, or to completely go bare. He loved their pussies regardless of how they were groomed, or their natural appearance. They were all beautiful in his eyes, and deserved to be worshiped. But, he couldn’t deny how fucking pretty yours was, and how your slickness clung to the fabric of your panties like glue made his cock twitch in his palm.

He could bite his fist right then and there, but he had a job to complete.

“So pretty, baby. Prettiest little pussy. G’nna take extra good care of her now, okay?”

“Thank you, daddy.” you spoke above a whisper as he slowly slid the tip of his cock underneath your panties. You could feel the slick coolness of his pre-cum sliding across your folds as he rolled his hips forward. A deep grunt rumbled up his chest as he nudged your clit.

“You’re welcome, baby. Y’jus’ sit back and enjoy yourself, okay? Daddy is gonna do all the work for ya.” He promised you with a chaste kiss to your swollen lips as his hands came to rest along your thighs.

Now you fully understood what Joel meant by his solution to not fucking you. Christ, this was almost better than the feeling of his cock splitting you open. How lucky you were to have a man treat you like a princess.

“Oh, fuck.” You mewled as he thrust his hips faster, mimicking the same movements as if he was fucking you. “That feels so good, daddy.”

“Mhmm. I know it does, baby. I told you this would be worth your while.” He took his own lip between his teeth as he focused on the rhythm of his thrusts.

“This is almost better than fucking, almost.” You softly moaned as he increased his pace. Your hands found his as your orgasm slowly began to build.

“Nothin’ is better than fuckin’, Angel. Jus’ so lucky to make you feel good one last time. You’re doin’ so good for me, baby. I want you to cum, okay? I want to see you ruin those pretty little panties.” He urged you praisingly as the tip of his cock continuously bumped against your clit.

He was playing your pussy 100x better than your boyfriend ever could as you reveled in the pure pleasurable feeling one last time.

It didn’t take you long to reach your high as Joel’s hips stuttered forward as he spilled his hot seed right between your slick folds. He slowly slipped his cock out from underneath your ruined panties. He pressed soft kisses to your face, a playful nibble to the tip of your nose before his lips found yours in a searing kiss.

“Better take these for safe keepin’ so your boyfriend doesn’t know I was here.” He stated with a snicker as he gently slipped your soaked panties down your thighs. “I’ll getcha a fresh pair, okay, sweetness?”

Just as he was about to get up from your bed, your hand encased around his wrist, caging him in your grasp momentarily. “Wait, Joel?”

“What is it, baby?”

“Maybe..this won’t be the last time?..”

“Baby..”

“I want you, and if that means I have to break up with my stupid boyfriend? Then so be it. I’ll break up with him.”

“Angel, are you absolutely sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yes. i’ll call him up as soon as you finish fucking me, and i’ll tell him that it’s over.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips as he situated himself between your thighs once more. “Well, I guess you won’t be needin’ a fresh pair of panties after all, huh baby?” He teased.

“Nope. Not while you’re around, Daddy.”

Banners made by the lovely @saradika ✨

Follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

[screams-of-laughter]

Now I really wanna do some Spider-Woman Robin Buckley relationship/tickle hcs ✨

Maybe even a tickle fic ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[lovelynim]

TickleTober2023/Day 30 - Fantasy

Nijisanji EN/Vtubers - Uki Violeta x Shxtou

⚠️ Suggestive/N$FW-ish content under the cut

“A-ah! Ukihihi ~ N-nohohot thehEHere!” Shoto gasped, pressing his eyes shut behind the blindfold as if it would ease the sensation to any degree. A fruitless attempt. Those delicate, but evil, fingers continued to dance over his restrained soles, tracing lines from his toes down to his heel, scribbling the ball of his foot and tickling over the terribly ticklish arches.

The noise from the chains - that bound his hands together above his head - echoed throughout the bedroom along with Shoto’s laughter, a melody to Uki’s ear. In delight, the psychic hummed a tone, letting his hands trail up to the demon slayer’s thighs, digging into any ticklish spot he found along the way.

“You are such a sensitive little thing, aren’t you, Shoto?” Uki chirped, grabbing the other man by his waist while taking a comfortable seat on top of his legs. “It almost makes me want to go easy, almost.”

Uki grinned, using his thumbs to massage Shoto’s hip bones with a scary precision, making the poor restrained assassin howl in laughter. He curled his toes and clenched his hands, but nothing seemed to make things better. In fact, it seemed like it tickled more and more, overwhelming the rest of his senses, occupying all the room inside his brain.

“PlehEHEase! I caHAHan’t! AhAHAh, U-Uhuhuki!! It’s sohOHOho bahAHahad!” Shoto cried, arching his back as he squirmed inside his restraints, twisting left and right in the hope to find some break from the tickling… but Uki didn’t feel like letting it happen. Not anytime soon, at least.

Using his nails to rake Shoto’s sides up and down, Uki smiled fondly at the adorably pitiful state of his partner that, for some reason, only made him want to go on and on and on. “Then maybe you should save your energy, hm? Instead of talking nonsense…” He grinned, drawing random shapes over Shoto’s ribcage, making the man under him shudder, giggle and desperately gasp.

….

“Uki? Hey, are you hearing me?” Shoto waved his hand in front of the psychic face, furrowing his brows in concern.

“...what?” Uki muttered softly, blinking a few times and looking around. He wasn’t at his bedroom, neither was Shoto bound to his bed and left at his mercy. And they weren’t- ah, Uki looked down in disappointment, it was just a dream, a wild fantasy of his mind praying a prank on him. “No, sorry,” Uki muttered, looking up to Shoto, who sighed in annoyance.

“I just told you my plan to our next collab, agh,” he groaned, sitting back down before starting to explain it all over again.

Uki pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He needed to do something about this fantasies… or he would get in trouble sooner or later for daydreaming about this kind of stuff.

A/N: I've been wanting to try to write for those two in a while and, considering how naturally sussy they are, why not leave a spicier prompt for them? Ehe

[ticklygiggles]

A snowman, a crow and a kitten | Sylus, Zayne x fem!reader [n$fw]

Commissioned by @otomiyaa

A/N: BABYYYY thank you so much for your kind suppoooort 💕❤️💖 I'm sorry it took me ages to finish dkfndknff I decided to write this in first person to go along with the game, I hope you liiiike it. I personally don't know how to feel about it dkdndkdb anyways thank you so much love 💕 I hope you enjoy this! 💞💓💖

Summary: You're simply their little toy.

Words: 3k+

His hands on my body were like a shower of sparks, each one exploding on my skin in a flash of pleasure. I felt like I was floating in a sea of sensations, without control, without direction, just going with the flow. His fingers were everywhere, caressing my skin like feathers, light, yet persuasive. My mind would cloud, my breathing would quicken, and my body would surrender, giving in to the sensations. 

Within a second his hands were squeezing my hips, his thumbs digging into my bones, making me arch my back and gasp between raucous laughs. The next second, his fingers found the warmth under my arms and wiggled them playfully against the very center of my armpits, making me cry out with joy, tears streaming down my face. 

How long had he been tickling me? A few minutes? Hours? Days? I didn't know and I didn't care, because I was addicted to that feeling of pleasure that was building up between my legs, making me moan loudly and freely. 

"Will it be your laughter or your moans that will make the neighbors complain about the noise?” I could barely hear his delicious, deep voice over the incessant noise escaping from between my lips. A noise somewhere between a laugh, a gasp, a moan, and a sob. Something that didn't sound like me at all. 

My hands desperately clung to his wrists, trying to pull away his hands that slowly immersed me in a whirlwind of pleasure and sensations that made my brain short-circuit.

“Do you want me to stop?" Zayne asked, his body on top of mine, keeping me pinned against the couch, his lips caressing my ear, making me shiver and causing my skin to prickle. My mind was screaming 'yes! I want you to stop! I can't stand it another second', but my head shook from side to side vigorously, even though my chest was already hurting from the lack of oxygen and the muscles of my stomach and sides were burning. 

His soft laugh made me shiver. "Good girl." Zayne kissed my earlobe before pulling back, as if to admire the state I was in. I felt even more heat rising to my cheeks from my neck. I knew I didn't look at all attractive right now. I was probably as red as a cherry, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I also felt a trickle of saliva escaping from my huge forced smile and falling down my chin. Not charming at all, and yet, Zayne stared at me as a predator would look at prey. His green eyes darkened with lust, his tongue licking his lips and his cheeks flushed. 

Who would have thought that tickling me would cause such a turn on in Zayne? I could feel his hard cock against my clothed pussy and I moaned, feeling like I was going crazy. 

“Z-Zayne, please!” I sobbed between laughs. "P-Please!”

“Hmm? What do you want, little tickle toy?” I sobbed out a few more words with difficulty, for my laughter would not cease. “I cannot hear you. Would you stop laughing?” 

“I c-cahan't, I-"

“Ah, so you were busy.” 

My laugh caught in my throat. Zayne and I both quickly looked towards the door and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when I saw who was entering my house. 

“S-Sylus?! W-What are you doing-” 

“I sent Mephisto to check on you, but you didn't open the window. I see why now.”

Sylus chuckled, looking at me, then at Zayne. His eyes moving to the hands under my arms and the position Zayne and I were in. I froze, not knowing what to do. Zayne looked at my guest with a raised eyebrow and seemed confused as well. I wanted the earth to swallow me up. 

“A little crow came to say hello, it seems.” Zayne's voice was too calm, a chill ran down my spine. 

Sylus smirked. “I came to check on my kitten, I thought she was going to be bored, but I see she's in good company.” 

“Yes. You can leave now.” 

“I don't wanna,” Sylus said, finally, finally, closing the door behind him. “Besides, you're doing it all wrong.” 

“Excuse me?” 

My heart raced as I watched Sylus approach us. My hands that were clinging to Zayne's shoulders were suddenly grabbed tightly and placed high above my head. I squealed and arched my back, my breath hitching in my throat as I looked up at Sylus. He looked at me with a mischievous smile and eyes shining with mischief. 

“She likes being pinned down,” Sylus explained, as if I wasn't there between the two. “She loves having no escape from her tickles, don't you, kitten?” My only response was a whimper and Sylus took it as a yes, of course. “Tell you what, Zayne. Why don't I stay up here for a while.” Zayne arched an eyebrow. “And you can do whatever you want down there.” 

Sylus jerked his chin towards my legs and Zayne looked down, his eyes widening for a second before his fingers touched my still covered pussy. I moaned, bucking my hips up. 

“You're leaking,” Zayne mumbled and I gasped, looking at the tips of his fingers. Zayne looked between my legs for a moment and then he looked up at Sylus. “Fine.” 

My eyes widened as Sylus let out a deep chuckle. “We'll take turns, then.”

In an instant, their hands were on me. I tensed thinking they were going to tickle me, but to my horror, Zayne hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and underwear and pulled them down. I squealed, bringing my legs together to hide my pussy, but Zayne grabbed my knees and easily spread my legs apart, completely exposing me to him. 

Meanwhile Sylus grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it off, exposing my breasts. Unlike my shorts and panties, the shirt only reached my elbows and a heavy gasp escaped my mouth when I felt Sylus sitting on my arms. My eyes moved from Zayne to Sylus and back again. 

My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and I was only able to say something when Zayne suddenly lowered his head between my legs. I moaned and shivered as I felt Zayne's warm lips on the inside of my left thigh, he trailed kisses from my knee to my groin and my breath caught in my throat when I felt his lips pressing on my pussy.

I moaned Zayne's name, arching my back a little and closing my eyes. Zayne kissed me again and I shivered in pleasure once more and moaned softly. His next kiss was directly on my clit, he had separated my lips to discover that little spot and as he pressed his mouth against it, I felt like I was going to cum just like that. His tongue played with my clit for a second, before it slid all over my pussy, tasting my juices before returning to my clit. 

“Oh, Zayne!” I cried, moaning and writhing as his tongue circled my hard clit. My nipples hardened and my skin covered in goosebumps. His tongue licked, fluttered and pressed against my clit mercilessly, making me let out loud sounds of pleasure. “I'm g-going to cum! Nghh!” He sucked on it, holding my legs that rested over his shoulders to keep me in place. 

It felt so good, my eyes crossed as I felt that tingle of my upcoming orgasm, my legs shook, but I had forgotten about Sylus… until I felt his fingers in my armpits. 

A loud laugh bubbled out of me, I pulled at my arms desperately, trying to get them out from under Sylus, but it was impossible. His agile and light fingers buried themselves in my armpits, wiggling, poking, squeezing, prodding- just every single thing he knew would make me laugh in hysterics. 

“Sylus!” I squealed, feeling the tingles of my climax fading away. “S-Stohohop! PLEHEHEASE!” 

“Oh c'mon, don't act as if you are not enjoying yourself, sweetie.” I shook my head, but groans began to filter through my laughter and my cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. “You're such a weird little miss,” he chuckled. “Getting off by getting tickled? That is certainly something you don't hear all the time.”

I shook my head again, trying to grit my teeth to stop my laughter, but then Sylus increased the speed of his tickling and I could only howl in hysterics. When I thought I would go crazy from the tickling in my armpits, suddenly Sylus' fingers moved to my nipples and I moaned as he squeezed and flicked them. My hips circled and I grind harder against Zayne's mouth; he barely flinched while I was being tickled, I just felt his fingers digging a little deeper into my thighs, trying to keep me still. 

“Y-Yes! F-Fuck yes! F-Faster, Zayne, please. Fa- ahahaha!” Again the stupid tickling under my arms. I groaned in frustration, but then started laughing out loud. “Sylus, pl-please! DOHOHON'T!” 

“Look how much you're grinding against Zayne,” Sylus purred. “You are such a weird one.”

I hated that his teasing, although humiliating, made me feel even hornier; my moans getting deeper and louder, mingling with my hysterical laughter and the squeals that escaped my mouth. I felt hot all over my body. The fingers digging under my arms and into my thighs; Sylus teasing my nipples, Zayne eating me out- it all just felt too much. 

Soon my legs started to shake as Sylus’s fingers did a weird dance, first tickling my armpits and then teasing my nipples, back and forth, back and forth. Zayne on the other hand, pushed two fingers inside me, hooking them up and touching that tender spot within me while his tongue circled faster and harder around my clit. The tingling came back, my breath became erratic, my moans desperate and as my eyes rolled back into my skull, I finally reached that wonderful peak, letting myself fall from the edge into a sea of pleasure that made my whole body tremble like crazy. 

Tingly sparks washed over me and I even forgot to think, to breathe, my mind went blank and it seemed like I had been suspended in a subspace of satisfaction… until my body started to come back to his senses and the sensations immediately overwhelmed me, making me shriek, scream in desperation. 

Sylus was still very busy tickling me under my arms while Zayne kept using his tongue on my pussy while his fingers pressed and rubbed that delicate spot inside me. I was going crazy, in my head it seemed like I could hear a noise like static, I couldn't think of anything else but what those two were doing to me. My skin felt a little uncomfortable, wet with a light layer of sweat, sticking to the couch. I felt exhausted, I couldn't defend myself... and I didn't want to. 

“Zayne.” I could barely hear Sylus's voice over my screams and hysterical laughter and some pleas that made no sense, neither to them nor to me. 

“Hmm?” 

“Are you having fun there? She already cum, so I think it's my turn.”

Zayne finally stopped, leaving my pussy pulsing and clenching. “You said you wanted her breasts.” 

“And I also said we would share.” Sylus moved his hands down to my ribs and I arched my back, begging for him to stop, but he didn't hear me, or rather, he pretended not to hear me. “Stop acting like a spoiled child, Zayne, and move your ass up here.”

The tickling finally stopped and I went limp against the couch. My body was twitching, my pussy clenching, my armpits and ribs titillating with the residual tickles. I groaned, letting out a sigh when Sylus let go of my arms, but my body didn't move at all. Was I that tired? No, I just... didn't want them to stop yet. I opened my eyes, my vision blurred by tears, and looked at them both and brows furrowed in disappointment

Sylus laughed, his voice echoing through my small apartment. "Why are you making that face? Weren't you asking us to stop, kitten?” Sylus positioned himself between my legs, making me gasp. “Now you want to continue? You're a very indecisive little lady, aren't you?" His huge hands caressed my thighs, grabbing my leg behind my knee and putting it over his shoulder. He was smirking down at me, raising an eyebrow, waiting for my answer. “So?” 

I swallowed hard and tensed when I felt Zayne sitting on my arms. I whimpered, looking at them both again. 

“Should we stop…”

“... Or continue?” 

I whined, my body bouncing. “J-Just d-do i-iiit! I d-don’t- ack! Ahahahaha!” 

I was surprised at how different the tickling was from both of them. Sylus was a bit rougher, not to the point of pain, but enough to make my sensitive skin turn red within seconds. He liked to dig his fingers in my skin, teasing my muscles and making me jump. Zayne, on the other hand, was a little gentler, his fingers fluttering against my armpits. Drawing random shapes with his delicate fingertips, scratching my skin, poking me, scribbling– just any touch that made my skin cover in goosebumps as I laughed and laughed and laughed. 

I jumped with a small scream when I felt Sylus grab my hips and I begged between giggles that he wouldn't tickle me there, but he didn't do it, instead, he grabbed me firmly and my eyes widened as I felt his dick entering me, fast and hard. 

“Sylus!” I gasped, lifting my head to see that he had just pulled his dick out, his pants still on.

“You'll hurt her.” I heard Zayne said, his hands stopping. 

“I won't,” Sylus answered with a growl; his eyes fluttering closer as he got used to my pussy… and I tried to get used to his huge cock. 

He filled me so nicely. His warmth made me shudder, his tip immediately hitting that sweet spot, making me cross my eyes in ecstasy. Sylus chuckled after just a few seconds and when I looked at him, he was smirking down at me, making me moan and jerk my hips slightly. 

“Do you want me to move, kitten?” 

I nodded desperately, opening my mouth and choking on my saliva. Sylus chuckled lowly, and I felt his cock moving out of me before he thrust hard into me, our bodies making a 'slap!' sound that echoed throughout the house. I gasped, arching my back and throwing my head back. He rammed into me again and I moaned loudly as he began to pick up speed, thrusting his cock into me again and again until my moans turned into screams of pleasure. 

“F-Faster! Pl-Plea- Faster!” 

I gasped as I felt Zayne's cold hand grip my jaw and twist my head to the side. My eyes widened as I saw his massive erection milliliters away from my face. 

“Be a good girl and open your pretty mouth.” 

I whimpered, but I obediently did what I was told. I opened my mouth wide and salivated at the slight salty taste of Zayne's precum. He let me get used to his length, first inserting the tip, my tongue licking up all the precum, making him furrow his brow and breathe raggedly. He then pushed himself deeper and deeper into my throat; I was so used to having him inside me that I no longer felt nauseous from having him all the way in. Zayne threw his head back, exhaling and shuddering. I tightened my throat and he growled, pushing his hips back before he rammed into my throat. 

Tears were streaming down my face as they both used me however they wanted and my arousal continued to grow as I felt them filling my pussy and mouth. Sylus moaned deeply, without shame. He liked to show how good I made him feel and he said it without thinking: 

“Ah! What a g-good girl, so t-tight for me. You really like my cock, kitten? Y-You're clenching me so nicely. Ngh!” 

Zayne was quieter. He bit his bottom lip and pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to keep from making any noise, But as my throat tightened around his cock and one of my shaking hands began to play with his balls, Zayne had no choice but to moan loudly, throwing his head back. 

I felt dizzy. I could barely breathe with Zayne in my throat, and the pleasure was driving me crazy. Sylus had started playing with my clit as he kept going in and out of me and my moans and whimpers caused vibrations against Zayne's dick that made him moan more. 

I was losing it. I couldn't focus my thoughts on anything but these two men touching me and making me feel so good. As I felt that delicious tingle building inside me, I was almost sure I would pass out before I came, but I didn't. My body trembled and convulsed as currents of pleasure washed over me. I came like I had never come before, my skin covered in goosebumps from head to toe and I sobbed and cried and moaned and whimpered as Sylus milked my orgasm until his movements started to overstimulate me. It tickled, but it also felt overwhelming. 

My jaw and the corners of my mouth hurt. My throat was starting to burn, but soon, with just a couple of thrusts from Zayne, he came inside my mouth. I tried to swallow as much of his load as I could, but it still leaked out of the corners of my mouth. Zayne shivered and breathed rapidly as he recovered from his climax. I coughed as he pulled his cock out of my throat and moaned Sylus' name as I begged:

“S-Stop! Angh! I j-just c-came s-stop, please!” I sobbed, but Sylus didn't listen to me, he grabbed my hips and fucked me harder and faster until I felt his warm seed filling me. I shuddered as he trembled in pleasure, thrusting against me a few more times to ride his orgasm. 

I sighed tiredly, relaxing my shivering, twitchy body into the couch as my breaths echoed off the walls of my house. I closed my eyes, feeling like I was floating and almost falling asleep until I felt Sylus pulling his cock out of my pussy. I moaned, my legs shaking, I opened my eyes heavy from sleep and my heart skipped a beat when I saw that Zayne was now between my legs, his dick so hard as if he hadn't come in my mouth just moments ago.

“W-What?” 

“It's my turn,” he said and before I could say anything else, he pushed himself inside me and I sobbed with pleasure before bursting into laughter as mischievous fingers began tickling my ribs. 

The sensation was so intense that I felt like the world was spinning around me. 

“What's the matter, kitten? I thought you wanted to play. Let's keep playing, shall we?” 

I still had a long night ahead of me, and my insides churned with excitement, my pussy clenching around Zayne, so eager to feel the pleasure these two men had in store for me; even if it meant passing out halfway there, but I was sure that these two were not going to allow it, after all, they only wanted my pleasure and hear my pretty voice calling their names through my sweet moans. 

[earthtooz]

x : DON'T GO :*+ﾟ

in which: blade has always felt cold, but even more so without you.

warnings: 1.9k words, HURT/COMFORT with a sprinkle of angst, gn!reader who calls blade 'ren' once, mention of blood, ooc!vulnerable!blade, he's like a kicked puppy in this one

a/n: perhaps the most intimate piece i've wrote to date, this is nothing but pure yearning and longing on blade's behalf, and a nice fix-it fic with the most vulnerable i think blade could ever be. enjoy!!

in his new life, blade has always felt cold.

he is not spared from the constant feeling of goosebumps prickling his skin, not even for a second as the cold bites the tip of his fingers and sink their teeth into him to send shivers up his spine. but he has never felt colder than he does right now. 

your side of the bed is untouched, perfectly made, and devoid of any indication that you had been there. the blankets and mattress are cool to touch, with hardly any wrinkles in the sheets, and an ache declares itself home in blade’s chest.

the sun spills on his bare skin when he kicks the covers off, illuminating his scar-ridden chest as he gazes around the room, as if waiting for an sign that you were still here, and that he wasn’t too late. however, an immediate soreness tickles his throat that causes him to wince, serving as a reminder of the unpleasant discourse you had last night. 

it was hardly over anything of importance, but blade, a man of pride and relentlessness, had refused to back down, and you went to bed angry that night. he did too but woke regretful and cold under the covers, your warmth taken with you.

today was the day you had to leave for a mission, and although he knows you have a strict schedule to follow, he just wonders why you couldn’t have woken him up to say goodbye, especially after everything. 

he didn’t even get to say sorry or try to at least make amends. the swordsman only hopes you didn’t leave furious with him, and that you at least had something to eat before leaving.

to distract himself from the heartache, blade forgoes lying around and decides to start his day before the absence you left overwhelms him and the only thing his mind can do is think about you. 

not that he’s successful, because despite dedicating a monotonous afternoon of drilling sword techniques, the rampant thoughts about you did not decrease. rather, with each swing and sway of the cracked blade, his mind finds more and more to think about, with you at the epicentre of all of them.

it’s sometime around sunset when blade receives update on your status.

the swordsman is sat on a stone ledge, gold rays from the sun spilling on his skin as he waits for the sweat and fatigue to roll off. blade thinks of how you’d normally be seated nearby, watching him train to supply water and energy bars. although he never used to like the company or the doting, it doesn’t feel the same without you beside him, he misses you and wonders when you’ll return. 

“how long have you been here?” a raspy, female voice asks, breaking blade’s train of thoughts.

“since noon,” he responds merely. he doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s kafka talking to him.

“right. makes sense. i thought you’d be lonely since y/n’s gone.”

“need you remind me?” he huffs, voice teetering a threatening gruffness that would make ordinary people shudder, but does nothing to kafka.

“oh, spicy today, aren’t we?” she coos, ignoring the immense pressure radiating off blade effortlessly before taking a seat beside him. “what’s up? is there trouble in paradise?” a scoff comes from the swordsman. “i was only joking, did something really happen between you two?”

“none of your business.” 

kafka shrugs before her phone begins vibrating violently. when she reads the notifications, her face pulls the closest expression to concern that blade has ever seen her wear. 

“y/n got ambushed.”

his world freezes over.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the sunlight is gentle in blade’s eyes when he wakes up.

clothes are strewn on the floor, bedsheets are half off the bed, ceramics lie in pieces along the cracks of the planks, and despite the mess blade has made of your shared space, he is the most crumpled of them all. a kaleidoscope of volcanic anger, tsunamic worry, and mountainous yearning, the only place that has remained untouched by blade’s destructive touch is your side of the bed, lest your scent disappears. 

it’s been five days since anyone has received a live update from you, only hanging on to tracking notifications of your spaceship as any indication that you were fine. for the duration of it, nothing has been able to calm him, with kafka and silver wolf needing to stun him before he could do anything brash, like running off into the infinite cosmos to find you.

elio’s promises had never felt emptier, his constant claims of how you’d return very soon turning into dust in blade’s ears because how could he hold on to hope when you are alone amongst the stars? 

his texts are left delivered, but never read. in fact, it has been five days since your contact displayed to be online, and he finds himself staring at it in case that the circle will illuminate green, that you’ll give him some sort of update on your liveliness. 

so that you’ll see how sorry he is and all he wants for you is to return home. 

he doesn’t remember when he became so dependent, but perhaps this is another cruel punishment from fate with another inconceivable price of repentance.

for someone as unforgivable and despicable as blade to love means to mutilate the universe with aftershocks that tear through boundaries of what’s possible. for a man like blade to rebel, it means that the consequences will return tenfold.

and there is no crueller damnation than tearing you away from him. 

he turns on his side, arms reaching over to where you would normally lie, and dozes off again, feeling colder than ever.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

blade wakes up a second time. the sun is no longer the thing that awakens him, but rather, the sound of footsteps that echo outside the bedroom. disgruntled and still trying to gather his bearings, he shoots awake at the sound of your door opening.

you stand on the other side.

is this a dream?

“oh,” you breathe. you sound winded, caught off guard by the sight of your lover who stares at you like a bewildered deer. “i’m sorry, i didn’t think you would be here.”

he doesn’t say anything, just merely looks at you, unnervingly unresponsive.

you look miserable. fatigue clings to your skin like a second skin, your eyes lack the brightness they usually have, and you are, evidently, very battered and bruised, blood staining your ruined clothes. 

but you are like sunlight, and blade thinks he can breathe again. 

“i guess i’ll leave,” you murmur, interrupting blade’s momentary assessment.

“don’t.”

turning back around, the swordsman is now slowly stalking towards you, seemingly teleported from the bed to halfway across the room in the blink of an eye. 

“is something wrong?” you ask and he holds back a scoff from the irony of your question. he’s the one that should be asking that, not you. 

but yes, there is something wrong; you left him alone. you went somewhere he couldn’t and then made him feel helpless because he didn’t know whether or not you were going to come back, stranded in the cosmos forever. 

stopping before you, his hands gravitate upwards with the magnetic need to touch you, to ensure that you were real and not some figment of his hazy imagination. blade raises a hesitant hand to sit on the back of your neck and the frostiness of his fingertips causes a shiver to run up your spine. gently, he presses you for a pulse and visibly gulps when he finds it, suffocating you in the tense silence that has occupied the air (you’re real, and you’re okay, delivered back to him in one piece).

then, he looks at you with the saddest expression you have ever seen him wear before engulfing you in his embrace. the stellaron hunter is hesitant with his touch, hovering around you in fear of overstepping, for blade would never forgive himself if he were to scare you off again. 

because you’re finally back where he can reach, and he never wants you to leave. 

“ren?” you pause, gently wrapping your arms around his waist and closing the gap he left, meeting him halfway. the little action floods him with endless relief. “what’s the matter?”

he shakes his head against you and his hold tightens mercilessly, squeezing all air out of your lungs. 

“you had me worried,” he confesses, no louder than a whisper because otherwise he would crack under the weight of his own words. the constant fear that has plagued him for the last few days would finally break him and he’d be in shambles in your arms, making a mess of something gorgeous with something hideous. 

so instead, he will continue simply holding onto you where you are safe. in his arms, you cannot leave, you cannot go places that danger you, and you cannot break his heart and choke him with the emptiness of your presence.

“i’m sorry,” you say, rubbing his back and he tugs you closer. “i didn’t mean to worry you, everything jus-”

“-you left without saying goodbye.”

you’re silent and guilty, but so beautiful. “i thought you didn’t want to see me. we were pretty mean to each other before i left,” you say after a second of contemplation. “i didn’t know where we stood, i wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.”

whatever is left of his heart breaks, crumbling into shambles that ring at your feet. there are a multitude of things that blade wants to say, yet no words come to fruition, to his dismay. he wants to offer you the comfort and promises you want to hear, and he wants to express the overwhelming relief he feels, but he can’t, and he curses his own inability to be heartfelt. 

instead, his grip around you tightens, like you’ll slip away otherwise and have him search for you throughout the cosmos. 

“don’t do any of that again,” he pleads instead, hoping that you’ll understand. “i beg of you.”

“okay,” you breathe. “i won’t.”

“don’t leave like that,” he tugs at your ruined shirt, grasp gentle and careful in fear of scaring you away with the intensity of his emotions that are hanging on by a thread

“i wont.” 

“please don’t go.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

blade sighs, nodding. you smile at him and it feels like a warmth powerful enough to drive the cold away. 

“but first, i need a bath,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest to push him away. “please, keep your distance, i’m pretty sure i reek.”

he doesn’t say anything and clearly doesn’t listen, because instead of letting go, he simply leads you to the bathroom without ever unwrapping his arms. soon, the bath begins to run, and the sound of water streaming down ceramic echoes off the tiles, but the warmth of your laughter and tired words overpower it. blade sits at the edge, nothing but an oversized shadow that watches as you relax in the water, frowning when he catches the frequent bruise or fresh scar. 

afterwards, you both stumble onto the bed (careful to avoid the mess that blade as made, which you scolded him for, and he listened dejectedly before promising to clean it all up), and blade reaches over to your side, chest warming when he finds your figure to tug close. 

you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. your lover, on the other hand, stays awake for a few moments longer, simply trying to commit you to memory. 

“don’t go,” he repeats, tugging at your shirt as the evenness of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep.

he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[thebest-medicine]

96, ler!korra, lee!mako?

Prompt 96 - “What are you so scared of? It’s just a feather / brush!”

A/N: we poppin the BIGGEST bottles when the makorra fic drops *snrk

…

“What are you so scared of? It’s just a brush!” 

“Yohohou’re not supposed to use it there!”

Korra laughed, dragging the brush over his foot again, which she held captive in her lap.

Mako’s face bloomed red as he snorted out a laugh. “Plehease!”

“I can’t believe you’re so ticklish.” Korra murmured, swiping his foot with the brush again. It was nice, strong, a gift from Asami. It worked perfectly fine for hair, but once she had discovered in a drunken curiosity that it felt ticklish as hell when brushed against feet…

“Korra!” Mako pleaded.

She swiped the brush again, and Mako choked on a laugh, tugging at his leg uselessly. “Come ohohohon! Stahahahahoppit!”

“Oh, I’m not done yet.”

“Nohohohoh!”

“If you really want me to lose the brush that badly… I can always use my fingers.” Korra grinned, scribbling on Mako’s sole.

“Gahhahahah! Korra!”

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further avatar drabbles on ao3]

[sweetpascal]

omg looove this idea!! hmm, perhaps prompt 7 from list 3? with our boy frankie?? 🥵 only if such a pairing tickles your fancy, of course!

main prompts post

#7 from prompt list no. 3

⤷ finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 

oh absoLUTELY this tickles my fancy. call me a pescatarian cause i love me some Catfish (ew that was such a bad joke, i even made myself cringe. please ignore that dad joke.) 😭

pairing: frankie morales x fem!reader

— summary: when dancing on your husband accidentally makes him pop a boner, frankie takes it upon himself to drag the two of you away to relieve that stress.

— warnings: husband + wife trope. hatless frankie. frisky dancing. groping. heavy make out session. no foreplay. spit as lube. standing doggy. size kink. brief daddy kink. sprinkle of mirror sex too hehe.

— wc: 3.2k (i'm surprised i kept it below 5k tbh)

this boink part is inspired by this spicy twitter video ;)

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

The idea to host a New Year's party was Benny's. Often referred to as the group's golden retriever, he has an innate charm that draws people to him, enabling him to make friends effortlessly. As the youngest among his three friends and blessed with boyish, attractive features, it's no wonder he has numerous friends beyond Santiago, Frankie, and his older brother, Will. He's made acquaintances at the gym, dive bars, and even grocery stores. Benny has a knack for talking his way into and out of situations, often avoiding parking fines and more serious troubles. However, that's not the focus. When Benny organizes a gathering, he spares no expense on food, beverages, music, and decor. New Year's, after all, is a celebration of new beginnings.

There you and your husband, Frankie, were, at the black-and-white masquerade party. You donned a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure, featuring a deep back and slender straps, complemented by a delicate pearl necklace resting on your collarbones. Frankie was dressed in his finest black trousers, a snug black t-shirt tucked into them with a belt, and a black blazer. His outfit struck the perfect balance for Benny's theme, being neither too ostentatious nor too simple. Fortunately, masks were provided at the party, so that was one less thing to consider.

The music was loud, and the atmosphere was lively. You had lost track of the others some time ago, but Frankie remained by your side, steadfast as glue to paper. Aware that parties weren't really his scene, especially considering his age and dislike for crowded spaces, you found a quiet corner. Gently pulling on his hand, you guided him to stand against the wall. The bass pulsed through you, a constant presence. Your mask concealed your forehead, eyes, and nose, leaving only your lips and chin visible. Frankie's mask was a different hue but similar to yours. Despite the strobe lights, it was clear his gaze hadn't strayed from you, not since you left home.

"Are you doing okay?" you asked, loud enough for him to hear, your hands gently gripping his shoulders for balance. Frankie leaned into you, his large hands settling on your hips as he nodded in response to your question and gave a thumbs up. You returned the nod and placed a soft kiss on the bald spot along his jaw.

The sensation of alcohol settling in your body is unmistakable. The buzzing in your veins, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the tingling sensation all over become increasingly pronounced. As the music shifts to a rhythm that's easy to dance to, you find yourself easily moving to the beat. Frankie's hands were still on your hips as you turned in his hold with your back now pressed into his chest. Your eyes closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the music. His crotch was pressed into your backside, and so you leaned forward to put your hands on your knees, arched your back, and began to grind your ass against him to the beat of the music.

You obviously can't hear his reaction, but you can definitely feel it. His hardness is thick against your ass, and you feel it slotting between your cheeks each time you bump and grind against him. It got to a point where a small crowd gathered around you both to cheer you on, even going as far as to record you twerking on your husband. People hooted and hollered. With a beaming, embarrassed smile, you stood up straight and wrapped your arms around Frankie's neck, giggling into his neck as he gave your ass a hearty swat.

"You're fucking killing me," he groans in your ear, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. "Let's go."

With a startled yelp, Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you through the crowd. You focus on his tall figure and broad shoulders as he makes his way to an unknown destination, deliberately bumping into people blocking his path. Keeping up with his quick pace is a struggle. As he bounds up the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor, your heels come off in the haste.

"Frankie! Slow down, you big lug!" you shout, but it's no use. Whether he's ignoring you on purpose or the music drowns out your voice, he doesn't slow down.

The music had become distant and muffled. As Frankie reached the third floor, the Miller Residence felt almost like a mansion, enveloped in near silence. His large hand remained clamped around your wrist as he frantically opened every door he came across, yet none seemed suitable to enter. The question burning on your lips faded away when he swung open the fifth door, revealing a spotless bathroom. Casting a glance over your shoulder, he guided you inside with a hand at your waist.

"Frankie, what're we doing--"

You're immediately silenced when he yanks off his mask and takes yours off as well, followed by his plump lips frantically kissing your own. Moans are muffled as Frankie pushes you against the sink and starts tugging the straps of your dress down your shoulders until it pools at your feet. Confused and extremely aroused, you realize what exactly he wants and why he wants it. He lets out a husky moan and pulls away from your lips as though he was forced to. A thin string of saliva connecting your lips is wiped away with his thumb. As you glance down at his lips, you can see your lipstick smudged all over him.

"I'm going to fuck you right here, right now," he tells you, and his tone holds no room left for discussion. When Frankie is pleasure-drunk, all coherent thoughts leave his mind. When he's horny horny, the man will fuck you regardless of where you are or what you're doing. Even at his age, your husband's stamina is quite impressive.

He kisses you again as you struggle with his belt. His tongue, warm and so wet, invades your mouth and licks you all over. His teeth bite, nibble, and suck on your tongue and lips. Lewd smacking sounds fill the empty space of the bathroom. It's so wet and frantic and dirty. Spit slides down your chin and Frankie groans huskily as it smears on his own chin.

With fumbling hands, you successfully open his belt and pop open the button of his slacks, frantically sliding down the zipper and shoving your hand inside to stroke his hard cock through his boxers. Frankie moans deeply, hot air puffing across your kiss-swollen lips. Your thumb circles around the tip and you can feel a wet spot through the fabric. The throbbing in your core is nearly painful, so you squeeze your thighs together to try to provide some relief.

"You feel that? You feel what you did to me? Grinding that ass all over my dick and expecting me not to do something," he grits, his eyes black with lust and jaw clenching as your hand tightens around the base of his thickness, stroking up and down and twisting your wrist when you reach the tip.

You have no time to respond as he pulls your hand away from inside his slacks and spins you around with such force that you stumble and catch yourself on the bathroom counter. As you look in the mirror, you realize the extent of your disheveled appearance. Your lipstick is smeared all over your chin, your eyes are half-lidded and glazed over, saliva shining all over your lips. You're a hot mess, all thanks to your horndog of a husband.

One of Frankie's large hands settles into the middle of your back, right between the shoulder blades, and he pushes you down so that you're now bent over the counter. Your body slouches so your left shoulder and the side of your head rests along the wall. Frankie's other hand cups the back of your right thigh, and he grips the meat before lifting your leg up to prop your knee on the edge of the counter. With that same hand, he pulls down his undone slacks and boxers, allowing his cock to spring up. It bobs up and down for a second. Your eyes follow the movement, and you let out a needy little sound that you try to muffle by biting on your thumb. It's no lie that he's well endowed; a delicious eight inches, three fingers thick, veiny with a slight curve, and nicely cut. A dark dusting of hair lays across his pelvis and you crave to lick up the happy trail.

"You're gonna get it, baby, don't worry," Frankie breathes out. He strokes his cock for a few seconds, feeling the throbbing intensify when he glances down and sees your wetness shining in the dim lighting. Your cunt flutters so prettily at him, almost begging for him to stuff it full and make the emptiness go away.

You watch through the mirror as Frankie spits into his palm and uses that to coat his cock. You can see his arm moving up and down as he strokes from base to tip; the wet sounds cause your cheeks to warm. There are only just a few seconds before he slides himself home. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror and steps closer to your backside. He guides himself into your leaking pussy with one slow thrust, allowing you to feel each and every inch he has to offer. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull. The positioning of you bent over the counter with your knee hiked up to rest on the edge has him reaching a lot deeper than usual.

"Fuck," Frankie shakily whispers as he looks down between your bodies to watch as your pussy eagerly swallows him up. He positions his left hand at the back of your neck, gripping gently and keeping you pinned against the wall. His other hand grabs onto the crease of your hip, and then he starts to really fuck you.

The first couple of thrusts were slow and deep. The added tightness of no prep beforehand has heat pooling heavily in the pit of both of your stomachs. Desperately trying to hold in your moans, you bite down harder on your thumb. Your hair is no doubt mess from the motions of your body rocking in time with his hips. You look into the mirror and finally let out a wanton moan when you see Frankie completely transfixed on his cock going in and out of your messy pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit--the position with your leg hiked up causes your pussy lips to spread further apart, which then exposes your swollen clit completely.

"I-I... ohmygod," your words are slurred as you try to speak coherently. Frankie lets out a pleasure hum in your direction, his hips now moving a tad bit faster. Your ass cheeks jiggle from his pelvis smacking against them. The hand on your hip smacks down onto the meat, his thick fingers gripping and grabbing eagerly. "Jus' like that!!"

"Yeah?" he grunts and leans over your slouched body, his lips pressed into the shell of your ear and his hot breath spewing across. "Daddy's hitting it good, isn't he? You take this dick so good, baby. Tell me you love it." He hikes your leg higher until your knee is practically inside the sink bowl. "Tell me how much you love this fuckin' dick." It's like a dam break as he growls the last sentence in your ear and nips your earlobe, being mindful of your dangly pearl earrings.

"Yesyesyes, I-I love it s-so much!!" You whined breathlessly, trying your hardest to tell him clearly just how much your love his cock and how good he's fucking you. As he repositions his stance and widens his legs, he starts to fuck you so hard and so deep that you lose your train of thought. Matter of fact, all thoughts are non-existent, and your brain is just a puddle of mush.

Frankie's breathing stutters when your pussy flutters around his cock. He hunches over and bites down on your shoulder before turning his head to bury his nose right below your ear. His hand around the back of your neck presses you further down as he plows faster into your body. The wet sounds of your dripping cunt, literally leaking all over him, are the only sounds filling the bathroom, aside from his heavy breathing and your squeaks.

"You take it so good, baby," he grunts like an animal, teeth bared, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He stands up to his full height and yanks your hips a few inches away from the sink, only hiking your leg higher on the counter, your knee nearly pressed into your chest.

"Fuck!" You managed to choke out, no longer able to swallow down your moans as the pressure in your gut tightens more and more. Eyes crossing and toes curling, your free hand--the one not trapped between your head and the wall--reaches out to hold onto the sink faucet. Frankie's cock is hitting you so good, his tip repeatedly punching that one spot that makes you go fucking crazy. "Kee-p go-ing... aaahhh!!... fuuuuuuck!" Your moans have now turned into groaning wails as your husband fucks you faster, harder, deeper, no longer holding back his brute strength.

"I know, baby, I know," Frankie huffs out a laugh that blends into a drawn-out moan. Both hands are now gripping onto your shoulders to pull you back in time with his forceful thrusts. The sopping sounds of his balls slapping against your clit, splattering wetness all over your inner thighs and his, makes his head fall back and his eyes clench shut.

Then, the countdown starts.

From all the way down to the first floor, you can faintly hear the crowd of people yelling out the numbers 45, 44, 43, 42...

Your bleary eyes open and you let out a choked sob when Frankie looks back at you through the mirror. He grinds his cock slow and deep to make your eyes roll right back into your skull. With one hand, he fists a chunk of your hair and towers over your slouched body, resuming the brutal pace he previously set. He tips your head up and uses the hand gripping your hair to shake you back and forth.

"Look at me," he orders, finally using his other hand to reach down and slide beneath your stomach to rub his middle and ring fingers around your clit in tight circles. "You better cum when they get to 1."

Half-lidded eyes meet his own through the mirror. Frankie's neatly styled hair was now a curly mess and falling across his forehead. His kiss-swollen lips were parted and he looks like he's about to fall apart any second.

The crowd chants 33, 32, 31, 30...

"All right, baby, c'mon," he rasps in your ear, grinning in drunken pleasure when your eyebrows tilt upward and you start letting out stuttered gasps. The rhythmic flutter of your pussy starts increasing when he rubs your needy clit up and down rather than in a circular motion. "Almost there..."

25, 24, 23, 22...

Frankie stands up straight for the last time and finally plows in and out of your soaking cunt, completely ravishing you and taking what you have no other choice but to give him in your pleasure-drunk state. The coiling gets tighter, damn near unbearable. It starts in the pit of your stomach and travels in opposite directions, going all the way to your inner thighs and to the tips of your toes and traveling up to the hardened nubs of your nipples.

18, 17, 16, 15...

"Give it to me, honey," Frankie is starting to lose control, his pace sloppy and his cock throbbing relentlessly as his heavy balls start to tighten. "You can do it, baby. Oooohh shit!! C'mon now. Do it for--fuucckk--me."

The hand at the back of your neck travels down your sweaty spine and clamps down on your hip to fuck into you. He smacks your ass and grunts heavily at the jiggle. He smacks your ass again, forcing a breathy wail from your bitten lips. He looks into the mirror and sees the expression on your face that tells him you're right on the edge. Your face is prettily scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and lips forming a perfect O. Your hand desperately clings onto his wrist at your hip as you get onto your tiptoes. Your thighs begin to shake on their own and your vision becomes blurry.

9, 8, 7, 6...

"Ohmygod... ohmygod... ri-ight there!! Frankieee!!" Tongue feeling so thick in your mouth, you bite down on your bottom lip and fall completely flat with your chest firmly pressed onto the counter. Your hand smacks onto the mirror, sweaty fingerprints smudging the clean glass. "Ahh!! Aaahhh!!"

3, 2, 1...

"FUUUUUCK!!" You and Frankie simultaneously shouted at the top of your lungs as you came at the same time. Your swollen, ribbed walls contracted around his cock, sucking his cum straight from the tip and having him shoot it so deep in your cervix. The power of your orgasm has you spasming uncontrollably, your hand sliding down the mirror and frantically grabbing onto the faucet again. Wetness leaks down your inner thighs, no doubt being a mixture of yours and Frankie's combined cum. You can still feel his cock throbbing as his cock weakly shoots out the last bit of his seed.

There are a few seconds of silence as the two of you try to catch your breath. Your hair is a disheveled mess and covers the side of your face as you rest your head on the counter, still trying to keep your tremors under control. Your body is sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. Frankie's still clothed body is hunched over your back, his warmth burning through his clothes and layering onto your exposed skin. It was comforting, his natural heat and the weight of his body.

He stays inside of you, allowing himself to get soft as he finds comfort in the wetness and warmth of your pussy. There are still small flutters from the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Frankie lets out a deep chuckle and kisses your bare shoulder gently, trailing his kisses up your neck and finally laying one on your earlobe.

"Happy New Year," he murmurs, gently brushing your hair aside. A weary smile graces your lips, and a soft giggle escapes you. Below, the party picks up again, ringing in the new year with jubilation.

With a slight turn of your head, you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, followed by a light peck on the tip of his nose. "Happy New Year, Francisco," you whisper. Your gazes lock for a moment before he leans in for another gentle, lingering kiss.

A knock at the door breaks you two apart before Benny's voice echos through the wood, "When you two are done fucking in the guest bathroom, come downstairs and have some cake."

[lucijawriteswords]

head canons | quinn hughes

summary: in which i discuss my silly little ideas and fantasies regarding everyone’s favorite canuck.

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT. quinn hughes x fem reader. pre-established relationship, fingering, p in v, marking/possession

a/n: a quick midnight rambling to tide us all over until my next real fic. thank you for your patience.

18+ below cut

sweet

- the thud of his bag on the floor when he returns home late from the rink. the scratching of his shoes as he toes them off onto the mat by the door, the rustle of his jacket as he hangs it up. perhaps the clatter of keys or the smart tap of a baseball cap thrown haphazardly upon a table.

- the soft pad of his footsteps across the rooms of your home, his fingers brushing against the door handle to enter your room. his hushed curse as the door creaks.

- his lazy smile as you lift your head from the pillow, his tired gaze meeting yours as he whispers a hello, peeling off his dress pants and dress shirt. his mumbled thank you as you point to the clean t shirt and boxers you laid out for him on the chair.

- his warm body, soft breaths, whispered questions as he climbs into bed. his strong arms around you, holding himself to you. his head on your chest, his soft hair tickling your chin and you card your fingers through his hair.

- his muffled words becoming slow breaths, his back rising and falling deeply. his slow heartbeat on top of yours. the feeling of him on top of you, sleep stealing your both away.

- his bright laugh bouncing off the walls of your home, the smile pulling at your face as he tells you about his day, the concentration and attention on his as you tell him about yours.

- dancing with him in the kitchen in the middle of the night, all sleepy eyes and mussed hair and incoordination and stubbed toes.

- soft kisses to wake you up when he has to leave early.

spicy

- the feeling of his fingers inside you, pushing against that spot that makes you writhe, makes you scream his name. the pressure against your clit from inside your core, begging to be released. the throb and ache and tease of orgasm right on the tip of your tongue as his fingers and mouth render you senseless.

- his cock dragging along your walls, every ridge and vein felt when you clench on him like a vice. his groaned curse, his flexed arms, the sweat dripping off his nose and catching on your chest, seeming to sizzle.

- his teeth digging into his lip as he pounds into you, every inch of him slamming into you, your mind muddled by the taste and smell and feel of him.

- his hot tongue dragging along your body, his lips leaving soft kisses all over. his teeth leaving marks, leaving small red nips in the shape of a “Q” on your inner thigh.

- the flare in his eyes when, a few weeks late, you show him a small “Q” tattoo in the same place he left his mark. that same flare when his eyes meet yours as he devours your cunt, worshipping you.

- the way he revels in your praise when you make those pretty little noises for him, his breaths coming a little more ragged, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

- the bruises on your hips and thighs that you wear like a badge of honor.

[plzfeedmebread]

Where'd You Learn That? Tsu'tey x Female! Human Reader

word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Tsu'tey x Female! Human! Reader Tags/Warnings: R18 - minors DNI, smut, p eating, tongue action, established relationship, fluff, romance, alcohol consumption, slightly inebriated reader, wingman Jake

Author's Notes: For this prompt! Dedicated to @mechformers, thank you for my first Tsu'tey fic inspiration! Apologies for any grammatical errors, I hope you enjoy!

The scent of spiced meat and sugared fruit tickles your nose. You are thankful for the implants in your nasal cavity and lungs, letting you freely enjoy the Pandoran air and all it’s wonderful smells.

Spirits are high as the clan celebrates well into the night. A bonfire roars at its centre; Humans and Na’vi gather all around in song and dance. Drinks flow freely among the crowd.

You take an experimental sniff of your cups contents. The smell reminds you of elderberries, and cinnamon, with an undertone of something sugary. Throwing caution to the wind, you take sizeable sip.

It does not taste as it smells; but is delicious all the same.

One cup turns to two.

Another.

Then another.

You close your eyes.

A blanket of warmth wraps around you as your body moves to the rhythmic beat of drums. A gentle buzz tickles the back of your mind.

You make lazy patterns with your arms, swinging your hips side to side as you let the music guide your movements.

The hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

Suddenly, you get the distinct feeling that you are being watched.

You open your eyes, searching the crowd for your would-be observer.

A golden gaze snaps your head in place, stilling your movements. The world around you fades to the back of your mind. Your focus attuned to him alone.

The Olo'eyktan, noble warrior and esteemed Clan Leader, is devouring you with his intense stare. Tsu’tey tilts his head to the side, leaning back in his seat as he openly ogles you.

There is movement in your peripheral. Stealing a glance, you spot Jake and Neytiri giggling and whispering among themselves; their own eyes darting between Tsu’tey and yourself. When Jake catches your eye, he rolls his eyes and nods his head toward Tsu’tey, then starts gyrating on the spot as he makes eye-contact with you once more. Neytiri hold a hand to her mouth as she stifles a laugh, swatting him playfully on the arm.

The message is loud and clear, and you pull your eyes away, back to the object of your affection, doing your best to keep your face as neutral as possible.

The look on Tsu’tey’s face sends a shiver crawling up your spine. There is a familiar dark wanting hidden in those amber pools, and in this moment, you have never felt more desired. Arousal thrums from your core when he flashes you a cocky smile; the hint of his fangs glistening in the deep colours cast by fire.

Your liquid courage from before fuels your next move.

Eyes half lidden, you bite your lip and place your hands to your sides. Your hips sway in time with the beat as you drag your fingers up, teasing the swells of your breasts, and up to trace the sides of your face.

Your hands slowly make smooth patterns in the air, before coming down to glide over your chest. There’s no real technique to your fluidity; you simply let the music guide you, letting the sensuality of your movements speak for you.

Even as you do the occasional spin, his eyes never leave you. With your focus set only to the man honed in on you, unfortunately, you fail to notice the staggering body of a Na’vi man about to collide with you.

The drunk warrior spills his entire drink all over your front. The spicy smelling liquid soaks through your shirt, causing it to stick to your skin.

Before you can blink or even register what has happened, large hands are immediately on you, steadying you against a warm body. A hiss, an exchange of heated words. None too soon are you suddenly hoisted into the air.

Your word spins, causing an uncontrollable giggle to come bubbling forth.

---

“Here. Eat.” Tsu’tey’s voice commands, and you feel something wet press against your lips. You take the slimly object into your mouth without hesitation, chewing it slowly.

“Eurgh! That’s so bitter!” You complain as you swallow it with some difficulty. Tsu’tey let’s out a quiet amused huff.

“Bare it. It will help clear the mind.”

He is, of course, right. The world suddenly snaps into focus once more. You take stock of your surroundings.

The two of you are alone, somewhere in the forest. Night still blankets Pandora; the forest sings in quiet tones, effervescent colours dancing in your vision.

You sit at the edge of a heated spring, your feet idly dangling in the warm water. Long blue legs cage you in from either side, and you realise you’re sitting in Tsu’tey’s lap space, leaning against his front.

The memory of your attempted sexy dancing, the disaster sticking to your skin, and now your current seating arrangement, causes you to blush.

And you blush hard, covering your face with your hands.

Tsu’tey chuckles behind you, his voice vibrating in his strong chest, reverberating in your bones.

“Why so shy, [Y/N]? Where did all that confidence go, my little txeptsyì?”

“Tsu’teeey…” You whine, pouting as you look up to him. He takes your hands from your face, his large thumbs gently stroking your palms.

“Where did you learn that dance?”

“Uhhh…Nowhere in particular…I just, wanted to dance for you…The music, the alcohol…your eyes on me…Just felt right is all. Urgh, probably didn’t look sexy at all—”

Tsu’tey ponders the not so familiar word for a moment, trying to recall its meaning.

“The dance…It is meant to entice? Physically?”

“Y-yeah. Sure, let’s put it like that.”

“…Is that what you want, [Y/N]?”

You wordlessly nod. It has been something you craved for a while. Up until now, the two of you spoke only in honeyed words, fleeting touches and chaste kisses. But your body had needs, and the primal desire to become one with your beloved only grew as time passed.

“You are very small, ma tawtute. I could hurt you…” His apprehension shows on his face, ears slightly pinned back.

“I will not break so easily.” The determination in your voice clearly stirs something within him, as evident on his face.

Tsu’tey understands all too well what you want. He had fought with himself when he had first developed feelings for you. But you had burst through the walls he built around his heart, reigniting feelings he thought once lost to him.

And here you were again, fighting against his fear of harming you. It wasn’t the intimacy that scared him, he had long since resigned to the path his heart took, all in stride of course. His biggest fear, was hurting the one he cared most for.

But by the Grace of Eywa, he wanted you as his mate. You were in all sense but physical, already his mate. And there was no doubt in his mind of your intentions. He could smell it. And this wasn’t the first time either.

“Okay.”

You blink at him a few times.

“Wha—really?”

He moves himself into the pool. He stands in front of you, the water coming up passed his waist. He plants his arms on either side of you, boxing you in.

“Yes. You doubt my words?”

“No! No I—” He pulls you up into a heated kiss before you can waste your breath on further words. He holds you gently, careful not to exert too much strength. You melt in his arms, your body already feeling mailable thanks to your slight inebriated state.

When he pulls away, he swipes the thin line of saliva left by his retreat. He tugs at the hem of your top.

“Fì’u’aku.”

You do so without hesitation, hastily throwing the soaked garment aside along with your pants.

Tsu’tey hums appreciatively as you lay bare before him, clad only in your smalls. His eyes roam over your body. From the red flushness of your face, to the swell of your breasts, down does his gaze travel; admiring the smoothness of your skin, the softness of your flesh.

His fingers drag along your sticky skin, worshipping every inch he touches. You marvel at the size of him; his hand covers the whole of your chest. If he wanted, he could crush you with a single squeeze. Slick coats your walls at the mere thought of his strength.

“Hmm. You are, sticky. Tsk. That skxáwng should have watched where he was going.” He leans down, sniffing at the nape of your neck, before giving you a purposeful lick.

You let out a surprised yelp at the contact, the warm thick muscle taking you by surprise.

“W—wait! Shouldn’t I clean myself off first? In the water?”

“Kehe. I will do it for you.”

“With what?”

“Ftxì oeyä.”

The blush on your face deepens at the prospect of him licking you clean. But you don’t object. In fact, the idea excites you all the more. Tsu’tey takes your silence as permission to continue.

He starts at your navel, slowly dragging his tongue up in a straight line, up between your breasts and along your clavicle. He let’s out a low pleasured hum at the back of his throat as he swallows your taste on his tongue.

His mouth is on you again, greedily licking every inch of your skin.

You let out a soft moan when he glides his tongue over your nipples; the sound making his ears flick forward. He does it again, earning himself another delightful moan to fall from your lips.

He smirks as he continues to lick you clean.

Once he is satisfied, you lay there covered in a sheen of his saliva, nipples hard from the cool air. You don’t feel sticky anymore. But you do feel the wetness of your loins.

Tsu’tey gives you a quizzical look, studying you.

“Hm.”

“W-what is it?” You stammer, painfully aroused, but still shy under this intense stare.

“It would seem, I am not yet finished.”

“Huh?...Where could you have possibly missed? I’m practically drenched, heh.” You let out a chuff at your own double entendre. What you don’t anticipate, is the down right lustful knowing smirk he gives you right back.

“Right…here.”

He drags a single finger up your clothed cunt, sending a sudden jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

You inhale sharply at the sudden contact, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to rub you through your panties, soaking them even further in your arousal.

Gently and with purpose, he slowly removes the undergarment, chucking it somewhere near your discarded top.

Feeling shy, you try close your legs. But you are no match for him, and he holds you in place; a hand pressed to either leg, keeping you spread wide open.

“Voìk si.” He commands, and you obey, all to eager for him to just touch you already.

Tsu’tey adjusts in the water, lowering himself to the space between your thighs. He starts kissing the inside of your leg, planting languid kisses as he moves closer to your apex.

He breathes deep of your scent, pupils dilating from your tantalizing smell. When he finally presses a kiss to your folds, you can’t help but sigh in relief. He kisses you again, the pressure of his large mouth against your sex flaming the fires of your arousal. The promise of pleasured release slowly starts to build.

He gives you an experimental lick, marveling at the primal taste you leave on his tongue. He spreads you further apart using his thumbs.

His tongue returns to you, licking away at the soft flesh of your pussy in long strokes. His ears perk at the undignified sound you make when he brushes over your sensitive bud.

Your mouth agape, formed into an ‘o’ as you squirm with pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut.

His tongue is thick, large and oh so deviously wet against your folds. He presses his tongue flat against your cunt, roughly rubbing against your clit in meaningful strokes.

“Hmmm~! Just like that…” The honeyed tone of your voice is music to his ears. He wonders what other wonderful sounds you can give him. He uses one had to remove himself of his tweng, languidly stroking himself underwater as he continues worshipping your pussy with his mouth.

He licks and sucks at your folds, each ministration pulling you closer and closer to promised release. But it is not enough. Although he enjoys the soft moans and sharp intakes of breath you do, what he really wants, is for you to scream.

Both of his hands are suddenly cupping your ass cheeks, lifting you off the ground. You eyes snap open, widening in shock. He throws your legs over his shoulders, pushing himself forward, lifting you higher. Your core aches as you strain to keep balance on just your arms and upper back; your lower half practically vertical.

He wraps one hand around your waist, holding you still in a tight grip.

He’s on you once more, lavishing your sex in heated licks and gulps. The evidence of your arousal coats the entirety of his mouth, practically dripping down his chin. And he can’t get enough of it.

You hold each other’s stare; gaze unwavering.

Without warning, he presses his tongue to your entrance, plunging his warm tongue right into your welcoming hole.

The sudden stretch is a titillating burn, a burst of pleasure springing forth. Your walls mold around his tongue as he plunges the appendage in and out of you. He uses the thumb of his free hand to toy with your bud.

“F—fuck! Tsu’tey! YES!!!” You don’t break eye contact as your fingers dig into the ground below you as the coil tightens deep in your core. What started clumsily, soon turns ravenous as he fucks you with his tongue. At this downward angle, each plunge of his tongue into your pussy causes him to lick the spongy flesh just right.

Your release draws ever nearer, and you wish you could reciprocate in some way. Tearing your gaze away, you then notice his kuru hanging over his shoulder, resting within reach.

You take this tip in hand, gently squeezing to coax out his tendrils. He watches wide-eyed as you bring them to your face. You let the ends invade your mouth, teasing them with your tongue in a wet slobbering dance. It tingles.

You watch as Tsu’tey’s pupil’s dilate, eyes rolling back before he squeezes them shut. A low growl, perhaps moan, rubbles from deep in his chest and up his throat. The vibration courses through your walls and clit. The grip on your waist tightens, and he engulfs your entire pussy with his mouth. He sucks as hard as he can while rubbing his tongue against that knowing spot deep within your core.

You all but shatter. You scream, uncaring, as the coil snaps, pushing you over the edge.

Your orgasm bursts forth, and he drinks deep of the juices flowing into his mouth. Your legs squeeze tight in an effort to keep his head in place. He helps you ride out your orgasm to the fullest, licking your clit continuously. You remove the tendrils of his kuru from your mouth, desperately trying to speak when the feeling becomes too intense.

“S—stop…It’sss too muuuchh…” You slur your words, pleading. He yields, pulling his mouth away. He slowly licks his lips clean, letting out a low approving moan as he swallows.

“Ftxìlor.” He says, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

If you weren’t already burning, you’d blush at the sight of his mouth shimmering with your juices smeared all over his jaw.

Gently he lowers you back down, letting you rest on your back once more. He washes away your slick with the spring’s water.

Once done, he moves to lean over you, careful to hold himself up so as to not crush you under him. His hand comes to cup the side of your face, eyes searching.

“You are, alright?” He asks, and there is a hint of uncertainty to his voice.

“Alright??” You let out a huff, almost offended by the question.

“I am more than alright. I feel fucking fantastic…That was, amazing. Where did you even learn that?”

He gives you a cheeky grin, self-assured and brimming with pride.

“No where in particular. The sounds you made. The taste of you. It just, felt right.” Cheeky bastard was using your own words against you. You don’t mind though, and let out a soft giggle, placing your hand over his.

He leans closer, kissing you softly. You faintly taste yourself on his skin. You lick his lips teasingly, and feel him smile. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“[Y/N]. Nga yawne lu oer.”

No matter how many times you hear it, you still get butterflies in your stomach. What a wonderful feeling.

“I love you too, my Mighty Warrior.”

He kisses you again, more passionate than before. His mouth moves against yours hungrily, yearning. You get the distinct feeling he’s ready. And by Eywa’s will do you feel ready as well.

When next he pulls away, you can see the desire burning in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Ma Tsu’tey…I’m ready.”

“Yawne…”

You press a kiss to his nose.

“Let me feel all of you, my love. Join with me, before Eywa. Become truly mine…”

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine; nothing like the cheeky smirks or prideful grins.

He stands up, taking you by the legs and pulling your cunt flush with his pelvis. You look forward, and eyes widen at the sheer size of his hardened cock now nestled between your legs.

Your eyes dart from his face to his member a few times. You peer up at him, eyes pleading.

You needed that thing inside you right the fuck now.

“Now, [Y/N]…” You bite your lip as you watch him take himself in hand, lining up with your entrance.

“Rikx rä’ä.”

You scream in ecstasy with the first thrust.

---

Glossary: txeptsyì - flame tawtute - human Fì’u’aku - remove this skxáwng - moron fnu - be quiet kehe - no ftxì oeyä - my tongue voìk si - behave ftxìlor - delicious Nga yawne lu oer - I love you yawne - beloved Rikx rä’a - don't move

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