#the scars on my upper arms and the back/sides of my neck and shoulders and along my jawline are from being lit on fire

[bleedingredridinghood]

(⁠☞ﾟ⁠ヮﾟ⁠)⁠☞ mine are horrifying

scars in fiction: I got this trying to save my lover from an assassin- but tragically, I was too late. now I carry the mark of my failure with me always, and I can never forget~

scars in real life: so I was trying to open macaroni sauce with a paring knife

[entitled-fangirl]

All the time we wish for.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT just smut dude

Summary: Cregan is eager to show his wife the Northern hot springs.

A/n: Based on an ask from forever ago- I think from @princessvelaryon before we became friends but I can't remember 😭😭 queen if it was you, you're a real one

Masterlist

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"Cregan, where are w-"

"-Just trust me, sweet girl. Trust me."

She eyes him, not able to stay angry at the happiness that radiates from him. "I do…" she trailed off.

"Almost there. Should be right…" his head turned back and forth in search of something. "Ah." He pulled her in the direction his eyes were set on. 

He pulls her into a cave, immediately moving to take off her cloak. She pulls away in concern at first- taking off a cloak in the dead of winter here feels like a death sentence. But his head tilted just slightly and he moved forward to do it again, to which she let him. 

The fur dropped onto the ground of the cave. She looked over her shoulder at it. 

At the sight of her neck exposed, Cregan leaned to her and nipped at the skin. 

She jumped, a breath escaping her. "Cregan, my cloak-"

"The cold won't seep into your bones here," he muttered against her neck. 

"What?"

"You're not cold, are you?" He asked.

She looked down to the goosebumps on her arms, but she knew it wasn't from the cold. 

He lips pulled into a small smile. "My father showed me my first hot spring when I was a boy of six. Warmed us when snow fell a moon before it was supposed to. I've been hunting these spots out for years now. But this one is by far my favorite."

She took in the sight, walking further into the cave. Exactly as he said, the further she moved in, the less the cold could bother her. She looked back to him, to which he waved out, encouraging her to explore it more. 

A light waterfall poured into a small pool of water, steam waving around it. 

He moved behind her, now without his own cloak. His fingers brushed against her arm. "Do you want to try it?"

"You can… get in?"

"You can. If you want."

"I do," she breathed as she stared out at the water.

Cregan's fingers moved to her dress, pulling at the laces. His scarred and calloused fingers became gentle with her, as if handling thin glass. The laces were pulled with a gentleness she didn't even feel, but she knew from the way his arms moved from her peripheral vision and the loosening of her dress. 

Eventually, she had to hold the dress up as he finished. It would have been hard to tell when he was finished if not for the sudden kisses he began to place on her shoulder. The rough pads of his fingers pushed away the material. 

She let go, letting it fall to the ground. Cregan took on the next challenge of her thin layers of underskirt, but he was quick to pull the ribbons apart. Piece by piece, her clothing fell onto the dirt covered floor of the cave, but neither really cared.

She was growing impatient, and by the time Cregan had untied the last bit of her skirt, she was all but tearing at her shift. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, the adrenaline doing nothing to help her coordination. He pushed her up against his chest, reaching his arms around to help her. 

She watched his large fingers unbutton each one at a pace too slow for her. "Cregan-"

"-We have all the time we wish for," He murmured.

She forced herself to take a small breath, though it was shaky. 

Cregan's hand ran down her stomach once he finished, admiring the woman against him. 

She whined lightly and leaned her head back against his shoulder, to which she earned a chuckle from him. His hand moved down her shift, grabbing the fabric and beginning to pull it up at an agonizingly slow pace. 

She felt the air move up her legs as the shift came up until it paused at her upper thigh. "Don't stop now."

"Should I?" He asked as his nose pressed to the side of her head, his voice in her ear. "I do love to watch you beg, my love."

"You either continue the Stark line with me in this hot spring-"

"Or what?" He asked with a smirk, pulling away from her and turning her to face him. Her shift fell back down.

Her confidence faltered for a second, then turned to teasing. "Or the line ends with you."

A low growl sounded from his throat. His eyes raked over her slowly as a new light came to his eyes. "Take it off."

She did so, dropping it quickly as Cregan focused on the strings of his doublet. 

As soon as she was bare, she moved to help Cregan but he held a hand out as his eyes took her in. He spoke, but his voice trailed off a bit as if distracted by the sight. "I've… I've got it."

She tilted her head in amusement and ran a hand down his chest, accepting his decision. She moved down to the spring, sitting at the edge, and dipped her leg in. She let out an instinctive groan at the feeling.

Cregan's lips parted as he watched her. He truly did mean to undress himself, but he was distracted. 

"Cregan," she chided at him lightly. 

He gave a heavy blink and snapped out of his daze, "Sorry, I-"

She gave him a knowing look. 

He made quick work of pulling off his doublet, yanking at the strings of the next layer until he stood in only his trousers and boots. 

He stepped down to her side, standing behind her with a hesitation.

She peered up at him from under her lashes. 

He felt the tent in his pants at the sight, one he was more familiar with than he cared to admit. It reminded him of all the nights he had returned to their chambers in a rage from planning for this war. She had always sat on that sofa with a knowing smile, asking if he was stressed. 

She had a way of taking away his stress before he even remembered how it got there. 

"Changing your mind now?" She asked him softly.

He shook his head, sitting down next to her and beginning to unlace his boots. "I'd like to believe I'm a man that follows through."

She kicked at the water lightly. "Follow through then."

Cregan's breath hitched as he looked to her. "I will."

He pulled his boots off, throwing them aside and pulling at his pants. He quickly got into the small pool, letting out a sinful groan as the warmth enveloped him. 

She watched the man with pure adoration in her eyes. The way his broad shoulders flexed as he lowered himself made her brush her thighs together. 

He turned in the water, now facing her with a broad smile. He pulled himself to her and kissed her leg lightly. He nuzzled at her knee, silently asking her to spread her legs. She hesitated, knowing his smile would only turn cocky if she did so. 

He brought a hand up, the water dripping down his wrist. His fingers brushed up her calf to her knee, pushing that leg to the side. His eyes moved slowly to her core, his eyes lighting up. 

She felt her entire body heat up as her husband admired her. Though she wanted to close her legs, she'd never felt safer. 

He kissed her leg lightly, holding her leg out to give him room. He began to kiss up her leg. 

She reached out quickly behind his head to pull his hair up before it dipped in the water. He grinned up at her and continued his movements. 

She watched in agony as his lips moved closer and closer to the very place she wanted them. When his lips ghosted over her clit, his breath brushing over it became antagonizing. She tugged at his hair in instinct, earning a playful glare of lust from the man. His light eyes had a dark intent behind them, a sin neither of them were ashamed of. 

Cregan laid a soft kiss to her slit, purposefully bumping his nose against her bundle of nerves. A small squeak sounded from her, spurring something deep inside of him. 

He stood in the pool, grabbing her hips firmly and lowering her into the water against him. She held his shoulders, relaxing in the warm water. 

He shifted her lightly, now completely wrapping his arm around her so their bodies were as close as possible, his face tucking into her neck and kissing at the skin. 

Her head fell back, her mouth opening in bliss. As she had done earlier with him, Cregan grabbed her hair, clumping it in one large hand while pulling at the roots as well. It was a mission to him to keep her hair dry, for if it didn't, she'd surely freeze once out of the cave. 

"Cregan, please."

The hand around her waist fell, moving down between her thighs. He rubbed at her slit through the water, slipping a finger in. 

She gasped. 

…

It's an unspoken fact that most Starks were created in the Northern hot springs, and there's no doubt that one was created that cold day. 

Cregan had never been more thankful for the sudden snow.

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Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[kingofthe-egirls]

SAY IT: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: sex, luffy asking you to say dirty things, breeding kink, spoilers post wano)

(a/n: i am giggling like a maniac)

words: 1.9k

****

Luffy loves hearing the sound of his name.

It’s usually in distress or anger, that someone calls his name after he’s done something wrong. But when you say his name, all whispered and broken, his hips pounding into yours as he does something right for a change, over and over again…it’s addicting.

No sarcasm, no hits over the head.

Just your arms around his shoulders as he makes you squeal his name in pleasure.

“Again,” he pants, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, “Say my name again.”

“Luffy!” You yelp out, after a particularly sharp thrust. He’s got your legs draped over his arms. He growls, something deep and low in his throat, before slowing down. He hits it slow and deep, staring down at you with his jaw jut forward.

“Again.”

Luffy has gray eyes—black in the dark—and his pupils are blown. He has sharp clavicles and broad shoulders, scars on his forearms and bruises on his knuckles. His hands are strong and wide.

He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, holding your legs open as he sits on his knees. You reach up to run your fingers through his dark, sweaty hair. You push it far back enough to reveal his sharp widow’s peak. Luffy is an art piece.

“Say it, slut.”

He’s staring down at you, slowing his pace to a stop. You whine, missing his movements, the massaging of his cock inside you, and you kick. He wraps a thick hand around your knee, forcing your legs open wider.

“Say it.”

His eyes are burning with a fierce passion, the gray sparking obsidian in the blue dark of his cabin.

Your voice is stuck in your throat, suddenly so aware of his strength. He’s Mugiwara no Luffy. He’s the captain of the Straw Hat pirates. He has a fleet and a three billion berry bounty.

He beat Kaido.

He’s liberated countless lives.

He’s eaten the human-human fruit, mythic type, Nika.

He’s a god.

And he’s asking you to say his name.

Luffy swallows, suddenly dropping to his elbows on either side of your head. He buries his face in your neck and shudders out a heavy breath.

“Please, baby,” he moans, “Please say m’name, sounds so good when you scream my name, your voice is so pretty baby, please say it~” He whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your skin as his hips start to shallowly thrust into yours.

You wind your fingers in his hair, lips at his ear, as you whisper what he wants to hear. “Luffy,” the first breath of his name is barely audible, “Luffy, Luffy, Luffyyyy~,” you drawl out his name as he groans. His hips speed up.

“That’s it baby, lemme hear ya,” his arms circle your shoulders and upper back, holding you to him in missionary. He rocks against you. “Don’t stop,” he whines into your neck, “Please keep goin’, wanna hear my name when I cum, please baby?” His words are dirty, slurred out and drunken. Luffy’s always like this: demanding one minute and pleading the next. He’s everything to you.

“Luffy, yes captain, Luffy fuck yes—!” Your whispers turn to cries, turn to prayers, turn to whines.

“Luffy Luffy Luuffyyyy~!”

“That’s it, babygirl, just like that,” he croons as his thrusts turn hard and fast. “Take it f’me baby, take it~”

So you do.

You cum around Luffy’s cock with a wail, a shudder, a release. He giggles as he sits up to feel the wetness on his abdomen. He examines the squirt on his palm with a raunchy smile.

“So good f’me, squirtin’ like that,” he mumbles, grinning at your blush.

He crawls back over you, softly laying his weight down on top of you. He presses soft little kisses to your cheeks and forehead. “Hm?” He whispers, making sure you’re okay, “Like that, hm, baby? S’good, isn’t it?” Luffy’s voice is low and cloying. You whine, nodding as you wind your arms around his shoulders. He’s always so sweet to you in bed.

Luffy snickers a little, speeding up.

The feel of his cock is heaven.

“What if—ah—what if I wanna fill ya up?” He hides his face in your neck, licking a stripe up to your jaw. He smooches beneath it, behind your ear, along your chin. His voice rasps low as he dirty talks you into oblivion. “Wanna pump ya full of my cum, wanna see it pourin’ outta ya…” He speeds up a little, “Wanna fuck a baby into ya,” he presses his forehead to yours, his hips snapping in place. He’s got you on your back, legs splayed over his arms as he crushes you into the bed. “Ganna fuck ya full of my kids, hm, sweetheart? Wan’ captain’s kids?”

His words burn holes into your sanity: fully sending you over the edge of desire. You cum around his cock with shudders and a gasp that makes Luffy giggle to hear it.

He slows.

“Say it, baby~” He whispers in your ear, his body pressing hot and heavy against yours. You’ve melted into the bed. His hips are now lazily thrusting against yours in a slow, arrhythmic pace. “Say it or I won’t speed up,” he giggles, pulling back to stare at your face. “Say how bad ya wan’ it,” he murmurs, tracing your face with careful fingers. He’s staring down at you in awe, hips all but stopped as he waits for your answer.

You squirm, the covers all sweaty and tangled beneath you. Luffy’s breeding kink only comes out when he’s really riled up. His sweet face is flushed, all amber gold with strawberries. He’s smiling, even as he starts to pull out.

“Want it!” You squeak, not wanting to lose even an inch of his cock inside you. He slows, pushing back in with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Want what, baby?”

You pout.

“No fair…,” you mumble, squirming around. He giggles, sitting up on his knees so he can hold your hips in place. “S’embarrassing…,” you whine. He arches an eyebrow.

“Embarrassed to say how bad ya need captain’s cum? Dontcha need it, though?” He asks curiously, tilting his head. As if he actually didn’t know the answer.

You scoff.

“Fine, I need it,” you whisper, lips pouting as you turn your head to the side. Luffy grips your cheeks in one hand, suddenly rough as he forces you to look at him. His eyes are a sharp black as he stares down at you with a cold curiosity.

“Not good enough,” he states. He sits up, and pulls out halfway. His abs shudder with heavy breaths. He pins you to the bed with his gaze. “Say how bad ya need it. I know you’re a slut f’me,” he pulls out a little more, and you whine for the lack of him. He grins. “See?”

Fuck.

You don’t know why you hesitate, something about the intensity Luffy gets when he’s like this…it’s electric.

Luffy pulls out all the way.

“Guess ya don’t want it,” he says with a shrug. He reaches for his hat on the foot of the bed, placing it on his spiky black hair. Just as he’s about to stand, you kick a leg out to stop him. You sit up, grabbing for his arm. Your fingers squeeze around his rock hard bicep. Fuck.

“Need it.”

Luffy looks at you the way he looks at food. Ravenous. He’s over you in an instant. He doesn’t need to ask you again; you’re babbling for him.

“Need you so bad, Luffy! Need your cum inside me,” he’s positioned himself over you, sitting on his knees again, “Wanna feel it, wanna feel—,” you hiccup, stumbling over such dirty words, “Wanna feel you pump me full—of your cum,” you whisper, as Luffy lines himself up with your entrance. He tsks, shaking his head.

“Louder.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Luffy! Want it so bad!” Your voice is cracked, almost foreign with how lustful it sounds to your own ears. “Want—want your kids, Luffy, wanna feel you fuck a baby into me!”

Luffy smiles, and finally, finally pushes all the way back in.

“That’s a good princess,” he says, low. His hands sear into your hips, as he pulls you flush against him. He’s big.

He smirks. “Now, was that so bad?”

You huff, still hot from the filthy words he’s made you say.

Luffy starts fucking you slowly, eyes locked on the place where you connect. He drags his cock in and out, savoring every moment. He licks his lips. Head tilted back, he moans.

“Say my name, princess~”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. He hooks one leg over his shoulder, lowering down to kiss you. You whisper a broken Luuffyyy into his lips.

“That’s good,” he pants, speeding up. His thrusts are smooth, languid. “Say my name til I tell ya ta stop. Don’t wanna ask anymore.” His voice is low, growled against your lips. You swallow his words like honey. You start speaking, and don’t stop.

“Captain Luffy, please Luffy please don’t stop fucking me, I need it so bad baby I need captain’s cock!” You heave in a ragged breath, pleasure clouding your senses until there is nothing else but him.

And that’s how he likes it.

Luffy overwhelms you, speeding up as he smothers you with his weight. It’s all you can do to hold on.

“Want your cum Luffy want it so bad,” you start rocking your hips upward to meet his thrusts. It’s still slow and sensual, as Luffy enjoys every minute of it. His eyes are closed in bliss.

“Luffy, captain, you’re so sexy baby you’re so good at sex, Luffy, don’t ever wanna stop Luffy Luffy Luffy!,” your voice starts rasping, gone pitchy with pleasure. You start saying his name over and over, all Luffy, Luffy, Luffyyy~

Luffy is starting to get close to his edge, you can tell by the way his eyes squeeze shut and his hands tighten on your waist. He pulls out for a second, flipping you over onto all fours before you can protest.

He shoves his way back into your pussy, hard and fast as a jackhammer.

“Fuck, sweets,” he pushes your head down into the mattress, finishing inside you with a rough thrust and a strangled groan.

He pumps you full, all white hot and gooey. Your pussy twitches as pulls out, as he watches it spill down your thighs. He swipes a finger through it, before bringing it up to your lips. “Suck,” he commands, so you do. His spunk tastes awful, but it’s his so you love it, no matter the taste.

Finally, Luffy sighs.

He flops backward on the mattress, while you stay bent over on all fours. You’re blissed out, happy as a satisfied cat. You see Luffy drag a hand down his face, before you poke his thigh with your foot. “Captain?”

He lets out a loud groan.

Luffy sits up on his elbows, all flushed and sweaty. “Say I did a good job?” he commands, suddenly shy as he asks for reassurance.

You sit up, crawling over to him even as his spunk still drips out of you.

You bring his hand to your face, his palm on your cheek, before you kiss it. “You’re the best.”

He smiles, and thunks his head back into the mattress. “So are you.”

You smile, and lean down to cuddle your captain. He’s soft and sweaty, all warm from exertion. Your bodies melt together, made perfectly for each other, as you both fall into a deep, pleasurable sleep.

[starryjiung]

of pleasure and pain

day 16 of piwontober

shower sex / fingering with yoon keeho

NSFW - 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.6k

tags: superhero au, villain!keeho, hero!reader, scars, blood, wounds, weapons, mentions of murder/killing people, fingering, shower sex, pet names, praise, degradation, reader uses she/her pronouns and has a clitoris and vagina, keeho refers to reader as girl

a/n: omg my smut debut look at me go! here is my little thanks to section, because I have to mention @enbyjjunie who has been helping motivate me, brainstorm with me, and beta read!! of course a huge thank you to @sxfterhearts and @kisseobie for managing this whole event, and bringing all of us together. and to all the other amazing writers who are part of the project, I am so excited to be publishing my fic alongside yours ♡

Blood stained the white shower tiles, mixing with the soap bubbles to create intricate shapes as it swirled down the drain. The water rinsed everything off, every bit of blood, sweat, and grime that could be found on your bodies. If anything stuck in the corners, it wasn’t your problem, since this was Keeho’s bathroom. His white tiles, his cleaning headache. Not that you paid it much mind in the moment, with your back up against the cool glass of his shower doors, Keeho’s hands and mouth all over you.

“Fuck, careful where you place your hands,” he mumbled in your ear, shrugging your hand off his shoulder. You glanced over to see a fairly new bruise blossoming right where you had grabbed him, and couldn’t help the smirk that overtook your features.

“Got you good today, didn’t I?” you asked, the amusement short lived as you immediately felt a sharp stabbing pain on your hip in retaliation.

Keeho had pressed down on a fresh slashing wound from your fight earlier, making you yelp and instantly grab onto his arms for support, as your legs wobbled under you. Even though you had ended the night on a high, Keeho having to retreat from the city beaten and bruised, it was not like you had made it out completely unscathed. Keeho was an expert at wielding his signature twin poignard daggers, the many cuts on your body being evidence of this.

“I like it better when you shut up.”

“Someone’s a sore loser,” you mumbled, slowly trailing off as he leaned back into your space, caging you in between his arms against the now steamy glass door. He looked down at you with sharp eyes, and you noticed another bruise forming on his left cheekbone, no doubt the result of you hitting him with the blunt end of your glaive.

You and Keeho were the perfect match, two sides of the same coin in every way possible. The first time you had gone head to head, both of you had been left in awe of the other’s abilities. Not that any of you would ever admit it. Keeho’s teleportation powers and your super speed balanced each other out so well, one was never more than half a step ahead of the other. This resulted in fights purely being decided on combat skills and luck, as you wounded each other at a speed too high for the onlookers to perceive.

You turned your head slightly, pressing your lips firmly to his pretty bruise, making sure he both felt the warmth of the kiss, and was reminded of the earlier impact with your weapon. Your kisses softened as you trailed down the side of his face, your hands leaving his toned upper arms to explore the expanse of his naked upper body.

“I could have killed you today, you really should be nicer to me,” you said in between open mouthed kisses at his jawline.

“Oh yes, imagine those headlines. “Darling hero of Metro City commits murder on open street!” You can never kill me sweetheart, there would be an outrage,” he replied, eyes closed as you worked down his neck. “And your heart is too soft to do it.”

You decided to ignore his statement, not wanting to agree with him, and instead grabbed his hips to push up against. As soon as your front came in contact with his hard cock, Keeho let out a low groan, one you could feel vibrating in his throat as you had your face buried right in the crook of his neck. Not a second later, Keeho’s arms were back around you, holding you close in order to maintain the friction between your bodies.

As you were grinding against each other, you felt a shiver down your spine, the water on your body slowly drying and giving way to the cold air coming in from below. Before you even had time to adjust, Keeho was already pulling you back under the hot stream coming from the showerhead.

Standing even closer together now, in order for both of you to enjoy the warm water, Keeho rested his forehead against your temple, his face only a breath away as his hands travelled down the sides of your body. His hair was dripping down onto his collarbones, where you saw a paper-thin scar, long healed, but no doubt your doing. Most of the scars littering your body were left by him as well, reminders of every fight, every battle, every night spent together afterwards.

“How come you have never killed me?” you thought out loud.

You felt Keeho’s hands stop, just for half a second, before continuing to glide over your skin, his right pointer finger tracing a newly healed gash along your outer thigh, the skin raised and still pink. His doing.

“I mean, you’ve had the chance several times,” you continued, not satisfied with his silence.

For a few seconds, the sound of water hitting skin and tile was the only thing you could hear in the bathroom. Then you felt Keeho smile against your cheek.

“Yeah well, keeping you alive is way more fun, means I get to do this.”

His hand quickly moved from your leg to in between your bodies, his finger finding your clit and beginning to rub small circles without a moment’s hesitation. You immediately grabbed onto his shoulders for stability, all thoughts of the forming bruise there gone for now. A choked moan got stuck in your throat, which made Keeho giggle.

“Look at you, already struggling to stand and I have barely touched you,” he said, lips right next to your ear as his hand kept moving at the pace he knew you liked. “Wonder what the good people of Metro City would think of their precious hero, if they knew she was whimpering like a slut in my shower.”

“Oh fuck you,” you managed to gasp out, throwing your head back to rest against the wet tile behind you. This got a proper laugh out of Keeho, who now had a much better view of your upper body, taking full advantage of your new position.

“Later, maybe. For now I want you to beg for my fingers, can you do that, angel?” he asked.

You did not want to give him the satisfaction of begging, but the way he was rubbing circles on your clit also felt too good to object. Just then, his fingertips went further down, teasing at your entrance and making you inhale sharply.

You were dripping wet, more than one could expect you to be after such a short amount of time with Keeho’s hands on you. But just as he was to blame for most of the scars on your body, Keeho had also become responsible for the vast majority of your orgasms. He knew exactly what to do to have you moaning and begging for him, and in that moment you felt every ounce of pride and composure leave your body. You knew the pleasure he would reward you with was worth so much more.

“Please-” you started your sentence, cutting yourself off with a high pitched whine as Keeho’s fingers moved back up to your clit.

“Sorry could you repeat that sweetheart? I can’t hear you over all that pathetic whimpering,” he said, tilting his head slightly with an amused smile, as he watched you lose yourself to the feeling of his hands on you.

“Please! Please please I want you fingers inside me so bad Keeho, fuck, please,” you cried out, the grip you had on his shoulders becoming so tight, it would surely leave marks for the day after. None of you paid it any mind, however, used to much more permanent reminders of each other.

“That’s my good girl.”

Keeho slipped a single finger inside your wetness, quickly realising that you were turned on enough for him to add a second one immediately. The feeling of him inside of you, slowly stretching your walls, was enough to have you moaning uncontrollably. When he started curling his fingers up towards himself, you could feel how close you were already.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, being so obedient for me. Everyone else sees you fight, but only I know how good you are at giving in to me,” he said, eyes focused on where his fingers were pumping in and out of you.

You could do little more than nod, your breaths coming out as a mix of whines and sharp exhales. Both of you knew you were not going to last much longer.

“I want to feel you cum around my fingers, angel. Cum for me.”

He had barely finished the sentence, before you cried out, your orgasm hitting you as soon as he gave permission. Keeho could feel you clenching around him, coming undone as he continued to curl his fingers inside you. He had seen your face in complete ecstacy like this more times than he could count, and yet he craved it like a drug. The knowledge that he could have this effect on you too, the cuts on your body telling a story so different from the pleasure painting your features in that moment.

As you came down from the high, Keeho slowly removed his fingers again, letting the water rinse away your wetness, just as it had cleaned you off your blood.

Pulling yourself closer to him again, you leaned your face on his shoulder as your breathing returned to normal. Small crescent shaped indentations were left in the reddening bruise, and you found yourself leaving small pecks on each one, as Keeho brought his arms around you under the water.

How were you ever supposed to kill each other, when being alive together felt so good.

[lizzy019]

NOT MY OVULATING BRAIN DYING FOR SOME SOFT SEX AND CHUBBY READER WITH NIKTO 😩😩😩 18+

Nikto was gently groping your smooth breasts, the callouses on his hands acting as tiny, unintentional scratches that made everything seem mind-numbingly amazing. The feel of the cracks and tears of skin on his palms and fingers just served to add some tingles that made your spine tremble.

Soft kisses were pressed to your collarbone. You'd convinced him to take off his mask, and even if he was hesitant, he had done it for you. Good God was he the handsomest man.

A scar making his upper lip become contorted to show his canine and middle molar. His broken nose that was all too disfigured to heal properly, but sat so prettily on his face. The burns along the left side of his face, his pale skin becoming pink from the scarring. One of his ears, a bit cut off and malnourished, but in all honesty, you didn't care.

This was who Nikto was, and you didn't care in the least what he looked like.

His dried lips pressed sweet kisses along your neck and collarbone, making your head fall back to show your submission to his movements. A soft grunted hum left his throat as you did so, making sure he left a few faint hickies on your shoulders too.

His hands came down to cup the soft pudge gathered at your stomach, one hand fondling with the flesh and the other one grazing your love handles. While his gesture of love was meant to come off as sweet, it embarrassed you a little.

Soon, his kisses were travelling down your cleavage and down to your navel, and he pressed his forehead to the soft mound to sigh.

"We're not all perfect, мой драгоценный. (My precious) Take us, for example. Do we look perfect to you?" Nikto asked, the gruff tone mingled with his lovely accent making you swoon.

You simply shrugged, feeling a jitter of nervousness run down you when he pressed a gentle kiss to your tummy. His rough fingers came to bring loving attention to your stretch marks. Nikto called them claw marks. Why? He thought that you were durable physically, and that they appeared to him as sweet animal scars to prove further how you had changed and accommodated to everything.

So when he asked you his little question, all you could do was think it over and smile, offering him a response that he'd either appreciate or dislike.

"Well, to me, you're perfect and lovely. But to others, you mean? I guess others might not see you how I do." And that answer was what made Nikto go berserk.

He had used his strength gathered from military service to heave you up from the sofa and carry you to the bedroom. You felt so special in a way, even if you felt like a bit of a burden. But Nikto showed no signs of physical wear from your weight, so you simply smiled and let him do as he pleased with you.

It wasn't long until you two were in the bedroom, the minimal clothing you had on was now torn off as he worked his leaky tip into your labia. The warm sensation of his cock being so close to your core was agonizing, but you waited patiently like the good girl you were.

With a hard rut of his hips, he had penetrated through your pussy lips and began to thrust into your core ever so gently. His arms were holding his own weight overtop of you, his facial expression contorting in pleasure as he struggled to keep his pace controlled.

Nikto was watching how you happily moaned and writhed underneath him. It was such a pretty sight, how your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and your soft tummy had a little jiggle whenever his pelvic bone crashed against yours a bit too hard.

But he enjoyed it, and he expressed it through soft grunts, as well as a bit of Russian overcoming his English from how wonderful your pussy felt.

"Твоя вагина такая мягкая и теплая, ебать! (Your pussy is so soft and warm, fuck!)" Nikto grunted, finding the way your pussy spasmed when he hit that gooey spot of yours to be so heavenly and delicious.

It didn't take long for him to get you off, for you to squirt messily down his lower abdomen and the base of his cock. He was simply mesmerized by how your pussy convulsed around his hard length. And soon, it had him teetering off the edge of his release too.

Surely enough, his babies were being bumped into your welcoming womb, and his weight collapsed on top of yours. You didn't mind it, instead happily accepting his exhaustion and wriggling the blanket to cover his naked body.

But he didn't pull out, he let his cock simmer in your pussy until he was fully soft, but he didn't even notice it because he'd succumbed to the strength of his sleep.

In all honesty, you were tired too.

@fishsinsareacknowledged @konigswife45

[spiritsong]

After seeing @felassan's post about there being two different versions of Neve and Taash's cards, I needed to sate my curiosity and went digging to see if I could different versions of the other companions as well.

Lo and behold, there are! I found them for every companion except for Emmrich. There's no way to say with absolute certainty which is the old version and which is the new; hopefully we can get some confirmation on this.

For the time being, I went ahead and marked the differences for those who have trouble spotting this sort of thing. Hopefully it's not too overwhelming for the ones that are very marked up, but I wanted to include some of the more mundane changes as well.

Neve — The biggest changes are the crossed leg (making her prosthetic more visible) as well as the metal rivet detailing on her outfit (see: the collar, the shoulder pads, the sleeves, the skirt portion). Some of what I'm calling the more "mundane" technical changes include the lighting and shadows on her staff, her nose, and her chest.

Taash — The most notable difference here is the coins (I didn't circle all the individual coins but you get the point) and the dragon in the background. In one version, the eye is more distinct, and a bottom row of teeth have been added to the dragon's jaw. There have also been changes made in the shading of her face. Her body shape (namely, the torso and her arms) have also been changed, as well as the general shape of the "spikes" on her hips and her shoulders.

Harding — Just a couple changes here. Her eye is more white/ghostly looking in one version, and the shading on her face and neck have changed.

Lucanis — LOTS of differences. They're pretty inconsequential, by which I mean there hasn't been any added/removed/changed symbolism in his card. The shading on his nose has changed, as well as the shading on his collar, hand, forearm, armpit (didn't circle this one oops), hips, and hip dagger. The purple "wisps" have changed in shape here and there. One of the orbs in the upper left have moved, and there is another orb above that one which has been removed/added.

Davrin — Just a few changes with Davrin, though they are big ones. His face/head has been changed, and the vallaslin has been redrawn. The scar on his eyebrow has also moved slightly.

Bellara — Bellara's head has shifted and her neck elongated/shortened. There are stars in the background and around her arm in one version.

As for Emmrich, I mentioned I could only find one version. I did compare the image we currently have with what I believe is the earliest Emmrich art that was shared with us (a cropped version of his card) by overlaying the two on Photoshop and didn't see any differences.

And that's it! You might have also noticed that some of the versions on the right hand side have a white line at the top of the image. Make of that what you will.

(People viewing this post on PC will have an easier time quickly clicking back and forth between the images to spot the difference. If you're on the mobile app and care enough to do so, you might have an easier time saving the images and flipping through them in your photo album. At least I know it's easier if you have an iPhone, I don't know about other models.)

[yuujispinkhair]

I had some very loving thoughts about Yuuji, and they turned horny, so here is a little drabble about how cute and sexy he is when you kiss him and blow him 💗

Pairing: Yuuji x Reader (gender-neutral) Warnings: 18+, smut, blow job, cumshots. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Walking up to your boyfie Yuuji while he's cooking for you. And you are practically drooling when you take in his tall, buff figure from behind. His broad shoulders, the thick neck, the sexy undercut, the gorgeous v-shape of his upper body, his muscular arms, his firm round ass, his toned thighs. Itadori Yuuji is a fucking full-course meal!

He smiles at you, all sunshine smile and genuine affection in those pretty golden eyes. And your heart skips a beat because he is so beautiful to you. The scars on his face made him even more attractive, giving him that rough, sexy edge. Your sexy hero.

"Hey there, my pretty boy."

You run a hand down his flexed biceps, marveling at how hard his muscles feel under your fingers. It always makes your knees weak how strong he is.

And Yuuji laughs that loud, sweet laugh, his golden eyes brim with happiness, and a flirty expression settles on his pretty face,

"Hey there, my even prettier cutie."

The food he is cooking is forgotten for the moment because Yuuji's strong arms wrap around you, making you stumble against him and end up snuggled tightly against his buff body because he always underestimates his strength when he's so happy to see you.

You just have to kiss him. He is irresistible with that boyish and slightly cheeky smile on his pretty face. Your lips land on the scar on the side of his lips first, making sure to peck it before you kiss him full on the lips.

And Yuuji kisses you back so eagerly, making you forget everything around you. He drives you crazy with his sweet, needy kisses that always show you how much he loves you and how crazy he is for you. Making your head spin with his sweetness.

He makes the cutest noises when you scratch the short stubble of his undercut and run your fingers up the back of his head and into his soft pink strands. You tug on his pretty, pink hair, pulling his head down to deepen your kiss even more, and Yuuji moans into your mouth, making you grin. So cute and sexy.

You just have to trail kisses down his neck and suck on his adam's apple until you hear sweet Yuuji sob. And why stop there when you can drop to your knees and pull down his sweatpants and boxers to lick and kiss those tan, muscular thighs until your boyfie is trembling and his pre-cum runs down his gorgeous thick cock, practically begging you to suck him.

Dinner will not be finished in time tonight, but both of you don't care. Not when your mouth is stuffed with Yuuji's fat cock, spit running down your chin as you bop your head eagerly on his hard length and messily make out with his pretty pink tip while listening to his loud horny moans.

Who needs dinner when you can spoil your pretty boy with your mouth, just like he deserves?

And he looks so pretty with his head thrown back, moaning unashamedly for you, thick cock twitching so sweetly in your mouth, a large hand in your hair, gently but firmly pushing you up and down on his needy cock until he cums with a desperate cry, filling your mouth with his milky load.

You smile at him, looking up at him with love-drunk eyes when he pulls out, only to pump himself furiously to give you some face shots too, while he still has cum to stroke out of his fat cock. Because Yuuji always loves to see your pretty face covered with his cum.

He will make sure to lick it all of you though, so don't worry about being messy for dinner. Yuuji's got you ;)

[callahanisms]

favorite person

for @shinyanchorface because i know you went feral over the pics and now we got a trailer. also this is definitely not historically accurate so please do not come for me. am i sure how things were done back then? absolutely not. this is just for fun.

character: marcus acacius

content warning: smut. consensual sex. by pressing read more, you consent to viewing sexual content.

word count: 1k words

"There you are. You're late."

"I apologize." You set down your bowl, towel, strigil, and the oil pitcher by the table. "I was...preoccupied." It was true. You would not dare lie to him. "It won't happen again."

"The Emperor?"

You don't look up from the table. Your hands twitch slightly and your heart pounds against your ribcage. You can feel the tile of the table. Smooth with small crevices, the surface being chipped away by its constant usage. Your finger runs over it, feeling the ragged edges. If you press your finger down hard enough, the crevice will leave you with an imprint on your skin.

"Perhaps." You answer.

There's a small sigh. "Well he doesn't matter. Just come over here."

You finally look up. The general still has his armor on. He's covered in dirt. You walk over, steps rather quiet. Your fingers rest on his shoulder as you walk around to be behind him. Then you begin to undo the straps holding his armor together, gently removing it from his body. He slouches a little bit and lets out a breath. A weight had been taken off of his chest, literally.

Marcus shivers with the grazing of your fingertips against his skin. He lets you strip him down until he's bare. You keep your eyes away. He found your aversion to him cordial.

You have someone else fill the private bath and remove the cork from the pitcher yourself. You pour some oil onto his shoulders and begin to rub it into his skin. There's a new bruise on his body, making him wince when you touch it. And beneath your fingers, you feel the raised skin of scars.

You pick up your bowl and strigil and begin to scrape his upper body. Your touch is gentle and he could feel the metal pressing hard against his skin. "Harder. I know you can do it." He says, his voice gruff.

You apply more pressure as you scrape the oil off his body and into the bowl. His skin leaves a pink tint from the places you've scraped. with his upper body done, you begin to lather his legs in oil, scraping the mixture into the bowl. You move upwards, keeping your eyes away from...well, between his legs. "You're my favorite." The general speaks.

You look up at him from between his legs. His tongue darts over his lips. "General?"

"I said...you're my favorite." His hand snakes to the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to form all over. "I prefer it when they scrape hard."

"I know you prefer to be clean, general. You've had a long day." You continue scraping, trying to avoid what lied just between his legs.

You finished scraping and cleaning him thoroughly, setting the strigil and bowl aside. "Join me."

"General?"

"Join me. In the bath." He walks over to the tub and steps in. Marcus slowly sinks into the steaming water, letting out a groan. His muscles relax and he feels at ease. Marcus rests his arms against the edge of the bath, looking at you expectantly.

"I'm not...I'm not clean." You shake your head.

"So? Just join me (Y/N)."

You can't deny that the steam coming out of the water was looking rather tempting. And then the general. Legs spread, a gorgeous face profile, and a strong nose, his muscles popping. You shed your clothes and step into the bath with him, sinking into the water. You could feel your muscles creak and your bones pop as you stretch a little bit.

Marcus watches you rub the water over your skin. "Come closer. I don't bite."

You look at him before inching closer to him. A small gasp leaves you when he grabs your waist and pulls you atop of him. "I like seeing your body."

"General..."

"Just call me Marcus." His hands stroke your sides. "We're close enough. You've seen all of me. And now...I see all of you~" He leans forward, lips pressing against yours. And his facial hair tickles your skin. You push back against him, moving with his rhythm and parting your lips to let his slide past them. He explores your mouth with his tongue, caressing the roof and tasting you.

"Come on. Spread." He groans. You straddle him, aligning your throbbing hole with his already hard cock. You can feel his tip pressing against you. "Go slow. There's no rush."

You feel yourself stretch out as you begin to sink yourself onto him. Gasps escaping. Marcus can't help but moan, feeling your walls cling to him. They felt so heavenly. You felt heavenly. He wanted to be inside you. He begins to thrust upwards into you, hands trailing down to your hips. His fingers dig into your soft skin. Supple and soft and tight too. You begin to ride him, rolling your hips. "Marcus! Oh Marcus!" Your own fingers dig into his shoulders.

Marcus leans forward, lips peppering kisses along your neck and nibbling at your skin. He sucks hard, leaving hickeys and his tongue traces circles on your bruises. You move your hips faster, feeling him thrust upwards. It was ecstatic, the way his cock was stretching you and sliding in and out. Your hands slowly trail to his back, fingers nails digging into his cleaned skin. The water ripples all around you, splashing out of the tub.

"(Y/N)! You feel so good!" He buries his face in your neck, his body tightening up as your stomach's growing knot comes undone. Your toes curl, Marcus grips you tighter. You want to scream with absolute pleasure.

You feel extra warm, his cum filling you up. And you cum all over him. The ripples in the tub calm, your breathing heavy and face flushed. The general looks up at you, drunk on pleasure, drunk on your scent, drunk on feeling you. "You're my favorite." Marcus mutters.

"You're my favorite too." You run your hand through his hair, feeling how soft it was.

"Let me clean you up~"

[diejager]

Gosh I read your 141 monster shots and I can't get enough! (I just keep rereading them 🥲) so I was hopeful that you'll make more base off "only human"? Maybe a little NSFW perhaps😋. Please I'll lov3 this so much! 🙇‍♀️🩷

Featherlight from Only Human cw: teasing, creampie, unprotected sex, silly sex, tell me if I missed any.

For someone on the leaner side of muscular, he was as strong as Soap was, his muscle pulled tighter and figure smoothed out with soft ridged and round edges, every curve and dip of his body felt smooth under your touch. His chocolate skin tasted sweet on your tongue with a slight tang of salt, his skin thick but malleable between your teeth, his wide shoulders naked and his mind voicing his need to have you sink your teeth in him, to add to his scars. You groan at the taste of him, something ecstatic, something sultry, something addictive, you loved him whole just as he voiced his obsession with you.

You tightened your hold on him, legs wrapped around his narrow waist, rolling your hips against him with every thrust, the way he drove his cock in you slowly and deeply. He whispered filthy things in your ear, the words rolling off his silver tongue with a sinful grin, praising you for taking him so well. 

“You’re doing so well, love,” he groaned, pressing you closer to his chest. “My sweet bird.”

You laughed at his pet name, eyes creased in amusement as you watched his wings flutter, big feathers rooted in wide wings, strong and protective around you. Even in the privacy of his room, Gaz made it a habit to shield you with his wings, a wall of flesh, bones and feathers standing between you and the world. They stood forever unmoving despite the jostling slaps and the rocking thrusts, the wet squelch and the wandering hands. 

You gripped the back of his head, fingers sinking into the back of his fade, where hair thinned out, you pulled, coaxing him to bare his throat at you. You nosed the softness under his jaw, lips trailing over his ear and the sensitive part of his neck, planting kisses and nipping with your teeth. He sighed gently, eyes rolling back and panting out his pleasure, he called out your name in reverence, a featherlight on his tongue. You loved how he sounded, his endearing moans, his low groans and his pleased grunts, it drove your senses wild with everything he did and it made you as loving as you were bratty with them.   

“I thought you were the bird, Gaz,” you smiled sweetly, arms trailing down to pull him closer to you, fingers grazing the sensitive muscle between his wings, from his neck down to his upper back. 

He jerked, cock throbbing inside of you, leaky tip coating your warm walls with pre when he bottomed out, slick dripping down his balls from over-excitement and all the teasing foreplay. His back rippled, wings moving accordingly to his flinching movement, they tensed and spasmed before settling back into motionless, a state of permanent shielding of your naked body.

“Oh? Playing cheeky now, aren’t you?” He grinned, revenge stirring in his pretty, brown eyes. “You brat.”

He snapped his hips, ramming in roughly, throwing you back against the wall he held you against, depending on his strength to support you up. You threw your head back, eyes closing as your mouth widened in ecstasy, letting out a flurry of mewls and moans. You dug your blunt nails into his back, hips bucking forwards with each hard push to meet him halfway, the uncut head berating your spongy wall, sensitive and overwhelmed by him. Your cries and pleas drove him further into carnality, tightening his grasp on your ass, being careful as to not harm you with his sharp talons, the claws he used to rip into his enemies.

Gaz felt out of control, his heart and body singing another tune than his clear mind, reacting in an animalistic way, wound up tight with this carnal need. He knew you were just as lost as him from your incoherent words and babbling tongue, lips searching for this to kiss and bite, to love and to care. Even in your shared haze of pleasure, he could see the unending fountain of adoration in your eyes, the soft cress in your brows and the smile on your face. 

If he could’ve come undone, he would, his mind running wild. He pressed himself closer, mouth wrapped around your lips, tongue and teeth nipping at you wildly, rough and hasty as he chased his end. He cursed loudly at your walls clamping around him in beats, the rapid pulse of your heart guiding the pace. His knees buckled, moaning out praises and encouragements, coaxing you in a spot of comfort and sensuality, to love yourself and let yourself go, to return what you gave him. 

He watched you unravel, body pulled taunt as you came, mouth opened in a silent scream, head falling backwards and eyes rolling back. He shuddered when you gripped him, giving a few more thrusts before he crashed, back slumped forward in exhaustion and pleasure. His cock jerked, spurting ropes of white, hot cum, painting your walls with his thick load. 

Despite being tired, he hoisted you up and stumbled to bed, letting you fall first as his wings caged you in while he peppered you in kisses. He never let go, resting with you in his arms, your face pulled to sleep on his chest with a wing moving to cover you as a makeshift blanket until he decided to pull the actual blanket over you.

“I love you,” he muttered those words softly, but they echoed loudly in your heart, the powerful beat that repeated his words.

“Love you, Gaz.”

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[cherryredstars]

God I am such a sucker for soft!Simon and I love how you write for him. If it's okay, could I request a nsfw oneshot? Maybe it's their first time getting physical or something like that. Just anything soft n intimate, ya know?

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Soft Smut, Sexual Intimacy, Handjob, Grinding, Lots of soft and playful tones

Summary: One scenario in which you and Simon begin to have sexual intimacy. 

A/N: My Love Mine All Mine is so Simon coded ( Listened to it on loop the whole time I wrote this)

Word Count: 1.6K (Not Edited)

Like all the times before this one, it starts off slow. 

You lay gently on your back, soft and sweet kisses planted on your lips from Simon. He is still tense, the muscles of his upper back stiff and rippling under his shirt. Your soft hands, hands so much softer than his own, reach up and massage the muscles as best as you can from your position. Like everything about him, the muscles are large and you have to dig the heel of your palm into them to get them into a lax state. He groans softly in appreciation, his body sinking softly against yours like water. His own hands, spread wide against the expanse of your back and between your shoulder blades, arches your body into his to cradle you. 

His kisses distance from your mouth, showering whispering kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and nose. The tenderness makes you giggle, throwing your head back in a way that makes him move his hand to hold the back of your head in support. You can feel Simon smile against your skin, his scar above his lip brushing against the skin of your jaw and neck as he moves his kisses downwards. 

“What is it?” He asks, a gentle layer of happiness and giddiness in his tone.

“It tickles,” you smile up at the ceiling as his short stubble rubs against your skin again. 

His smile widens for a second, humming against your skin as he gives the side of your neck one last kiss. He pulls away, his hands moving to rub the soft skin of your arms. His hands leave your body briefly, grabbing the ends of his shirt and slipping it over his head before throwing it to the side. Scars decorate his skin, shiny and pale in the dim light of your shared bedroom. To make him more comfortable, you sit up and remove your own shirt. Both of your chests are bare to each other, and Simon grabs your hand to hold it over his heart. 

It beats widely against you, pulsing with warm blood. The erratic beats contrast Simon’s practiced composure as he stares down at you. With your hands still pressed to his heart, you lean up and press a kiss to the back of your hands. Under your palm, his heart beats harder against his skin as Simon’s breath hitches. His hold on your hands lightens, and you take it as a chance to roam over his skin. He is silent as your hands trace the path of his scars. Just like every time you have done this, his stiffens as you touch them until his body melts into the soft kisses you give each shiny line. When you pull your face away from his chest, craning your neck to look up at him, Simon recaptures your lips. His hand finds your cheek, stroking it as he leans your body back down to the mattress. Your arms come to wrap around his neck lazily, opening your mouth to embrace the warmth of his tongue. 

His hands slip down to your waist, squeezing and massaging the skin with gentle pressure. His hands continue to slip down, finding the band of your pants. His thumb brushes over it, stilling when your hands cover his and guide him in pushing them off of you. His skin, rough and slightly dry, brushes against the smoothness of your legs. Your underwear was taken with your pants, leaving you completely exposed to him. Simon’s breath catches in his throat as he stares down at you, a nervousness gathering in his mouth that he forces out with a swallow. Copying his actions from before, you take his hands and place them over your chest. The beating is strong yet calm, and he nods in understanding. An understanding that only the two of you share. 

His hands trail upwards, moving to your shoulders and down to your hands where he links your fingers together. He brings them back so they wrap around his neck, his head lowering to rest against your shoulder. Your hands moving to his hair and neck, your hand playing with the soft locks as you cradle his neck. The sound of his pants shuffling catches your attention, but you don’t look down. You give him his privacy, leaning your own head down to place kisses into his hair. His hair smells like his shampoo, slightly earthy but warm. It reminds you of a softer variation of what he smells like when he comes home from deployment, his body still carrying the rays of the sun and in a thin layer of sand and dirt. 

He moves his head slightly, and you lean yours back so he can move it fully. He looks up at you, his leg rubbing against yours as he shifts. His head moves up and rests against your forehead. His bold eyes stare into yours, glowing with affection and a slight hardened edge of determination. You tilt your head slightly, bumping your nose with his. The last hardened ridge of his face melts away as he smiles down at you with a playful eye roll. You smile back, your eyes crinkling as you reveal your teeth. 

“Hi,” you whisper playfully. 

“Hi,” he whispers back. 

You have to turn your head away as you smile goofily, and Simon nudges his head against the side of yours affectionately. He kisses the side of your jaw, a deep chuckle escaping his throat, “C’mon, love. Stay with me, yeah? Don’t go ‘round gettin’ distracted.”

The rich tones of his voice draws you back to him. When you turn your head back towards him and your eyes reconnect, a soft breath escapes his nose. “There’s my pretty baby.”

You grow bashful at his words, having half the mind to throw your hands over his face so your face can stop heating up. Another deep chuckle escapes his mouth as he moves his hands to massage your waist and hips again. The rough pad of his fingers are delicious over your skin, and you arch your lower half into his hold. You rub right against the hardness of his erection, causing a hiss from him. You try to lower your hips back down, but Simon tightens his hold on them, moving your hips slightly to grind against him. 

A pleased sigh leaves his lips, his eyes closing as he kisses your jawline again. You hum in appreciation for his actions too, bringing your hips upwards to press more firmly against him. You know he isn’t ready for penetration yet, and you’re just happy that he feels this comfortable. You moan softly in his ear and Simon groans in response. Your hand tightens in his hair as your own eyes shut, causing another noise out of him. 

“Can I touch you?” 

Your voice is soft and needy in his ear, and he gives you a small nod against your head. “Please.”

He stops his movements, both of you watching as your warm hand trails down his body. It slips from around his neck, making a path down his chest and stomach until it rests right above his stiffened cock. His head pulses and the slightest bit of precum dribbles from his slit. Your hand is gentle as you wrap your hand around his tip. His hips instinctively buck into your grasp, smearing his pre into the palm of your hand. A dragged moan leaves him when you squeeze his head slightly before you loosen your grip and give his length lazy strokes. His nose bumps into your jaw as you continue giving him that sweet attention, eyes screwed shut.

“Hand is fucking soft, love. Feels so fucking good.” He grumbles, his hips snapping forward slightly. 

You hum in response, rubbing your palm around his tip a few times in tight circles before jerking him off again. Simon’s mouth is parted the whole time, occasionally letting out soft noises and praises of approval. He lifts his head, moving it to give you kisses that mask his moans. You smile into them, opening your mouth for him once again. He hums in thanks, cradling both sides of your face as his brows furrow. His tongue is warm in your mouth, and his hips keep snapping into your hold. A few minutes later, he pulls away with a moan. 

“Shit. Gonna cum, love. Keep going.” 

You nod in understanding, moving your hand faster as Simon throws his head back. His teeth grit, muffling the hard groan that rumbles in his throat as he releases. White liquid spreads over your stomach, your eyes completely hypnotized by the way Simon tries to catch his breath as he mutters ‘fuck’ repeatedly. Once he’s finished spilling his pearly release onto your skin, his hand snaps down to stop your slow pumping. His chest heaves with every breath, and his forehead falls back against yours. He stays there for a few minutes, both of your hands stilled around the base of his cock with his body hunched over you protectively. You can feel him softening in your hold, but you watch his face as his eyes squeeze shut before giving you a half-lidded stare. Your free hand comes up to his face, rubbing his cheek. He leans into the touch, a noisy breath leaving his nose. He kisses the side of your palm before you move it, pushing sweaty hair out of his face. 

“You okay, Si?” You ask gently, both of your hands falling away from his cock as he begins to sit up. 

He takes a few minutes before he clears his throat, giving you a small smile, “Yeah. Thank you, lovie.”

He sighs as he stands up, coming to lift you up. You giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, pressing yourself into him as he lifts you off the bed. He kisses the side of your head as he carries you to the bathroom, sweat and cum drying on both of your skins. Ever so softly, he nuzzles his head against yours again and whispers, “Thank you.”

Part 2

[yeonzzzn]

break the chain - the finale

a break the chain series finale

pairing: ot7 x afab!reader (all their mates) word count: 1.5k

synopsis: the war is over and the pack members live peacefully.

genre: established relationships, fluffy, just straight up cute.

warnings: straight up happiness. that’s all.

prt 1: vampires bleeding | prt 2: you complete me

☾ heeseung(1) | jake (2) | jungwon(3) | sunghoon(4) | sunoo(5) | niki(6) | jay(7) ☽

Snow collected on Heeseung’s hair, the crisp cool morning tingled his bare upper half. The aroma of his coffee filled his senses as he lifted the mug to his lips, drinking down the sweet bitter taste. 

The sounds of his family echoed in the air. Their laughter forced the corners of his lips to curl upwards. His eyes fondly stared over his balcony at them all. 

Sunghoon and his witchy mate held hands as he led her over the frozen pond to ice skate. Her knees wobble but Sunghoon kept his grip on her tight to keep her from falling. His natural fangs are on full display as he smiles at her with so much endearment. 

Niki and his mate along with Jake and the dhampir had snow forts built and screamed acts of war towards each other before starting out their snowball fight. Archer had his own fort built but kept his head peaked over the top, eyes glancing back and forth at the other four. 

Sunoo and his elf mate rolled snowballs together to build a snowman. The elf used her magic to lift each ball of snow on top of the other, keeping it steady as Sunoo placed rocks for the eyes. Sunoo rushed away from the snowman and his mate, quickly returning with a carrot and sticks for the nose and arms. Their laughter was filled with so much love and fun, that Sunoo didn’t hesitate to bring her close to him and kiss her tenderly. 

Jungwon and his mate had a blanket wrapped around their bodies as they walked through the snowy field, gently pushing and pulling each other in a way of teasing. Jungwon pressed his soft pink nose from the cold against her forehead and she tried to escape from his touch. 

Jay and his mate sat high up in a tree. Jay leaned his back against the trunk and held his mate to his chest, a book in his hands, reading out loud to her. She held his one arm around her waist tightly and tilted her head against his neck, Jay leaning his chin atop her head. His smile was big as he read to her, his thumb doing circles on her waist. 

Heeseung shifted his eyes between each of his family members, his heart beating with endearment and so much happiness. They were safe. Each of them. No threats. No war. Just pure happiness. Heeseung could cry thinking about it all. All the pain and suffering each member of his family, including himself, had to endure from the moment they were turned or brought into this world. 

His queen brought him back to reality when she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him, resting her face on his shoulder blade, “You’re deep in thought, want to talk about it?” 

Heeseung placed his hand on top of hers, rubbing his thumb against her fingers, “I am just happy. They are finally safe.” 

The queen stepped to his side, staring down at her family, “It’s well deserved,” she said, leaning against the balcony rails, “They all went through so much.” 

Heeseung finished his coffee and set it down on the small table off to his side then pulled his mate towards him, cupping her face, “You did too,” he furrowed his brows and traced his thumb over the scar he gave her all those years ago, “You’ve been through so much, and I didn’t help either.” 

She leaned into his touch, kissing his palm, “Hee, you got me out of the hell, don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

He kept tracing the scar, “Why don’t you get this removed? __ and __ would help—“ 

She pulled from his embrace, “With all due respect my king, I’ve told you multiple times I want to keep this scar.” 

Heeseung chuckled, reaching back out for her and bringing her back to his chest. Her cold fingertips send goosebumps down his body, “I know you want to keep it and have your reasons, but I won’t ever forgive myself for giving you this scar.” 

She kissed him then, smiling against his lips, “Well learn to accept it, you’re stuck with me after all.” 

Heeseung twirled her around and pulled her back to his chest, leaning his head on her shoulder, “They all look happy, don’t they?” 

The queen once again looked down at her family and nodded, “You made sure of it. We both did. We are all finally safe and away from threats. This is finally home.”

After Jake set the castle ablaze, Heeseung knew his family needed somewhere to go. He refused to go back into the city and have them go their separate ways. After everything this family has had to go through, he never wanted to lose sight of them. 

It took a bit of time to find some open and empty land, but once it was found and in Heeseung’s grasp he took it. Building multiple homes for his pack members surrounding each other in a perfect circle. 

Sunghoon and the witch were so in love with their old log cabin that Heeseung had a new one built for them. Jungwon and his mate along with Sunoo and the elf shared a house across from Sunghoon and the witch's log cabin. It was a beautiful two-story modern-day Victorian-style house. The elf and Jungwon’s mate decorated it beautifully. 

Jake, the dhampir, and her twin Archer took the spot between Hoon’s and the pocketz houses. The twins wanted a house built that was similar to the one their parents had built and lived off in the countryside, so Heeseung made it happen. 

Across from them was Heeseung’s place. The house was three stories with an office/meeting room on the first floor, Niki and his mate taking the second, then Heeseung and his wife on the top floor. It was a beautiful Greek marble built in a modern house format. The house had extra rooms on the first floor for the witch and elf to use their magic in and even a medical room for Heeseung and Jay to use if anyone got hurt. They have to keep their doctor skills going after all. 

And finally off to the side of Heeseung’s place was another small log cabin, only big enough for one room and a kitchen which belonged to Jay and his mate. Jay didn’t want anything big. Said he enjoyed the smallness of their apartment back in the city and didn’t need anything bigger. And with the massive land they all had, Jay said there wasn’t a need for a massive house when there’s so much open land to explore and be in. Heeseung understood completely.

It’s been peaceful living out here. Just far enough from a city to have the quiet, but close enough to travel if needed. The vampires wouldn’t have to worry about moving ever again. This was home. Forever. 

With forever in thought, the witch and elf finally were able to find a way to nullify the aging process of the twins. They were still half human and would need their basic human needs met, but never again will they worry about their clock to stop ticking. 

Archer finally as well accepted his red string of fate and joined the pack. Jake and his mate knew it was bound to happen eventually and it took a lot of convincing from Heeseung to just get him to join. He’s stuck with the fourteen of them, after all. 

Jungwon’s mate finally was able to control her electricity and had no more use of the crystals to help keep her powers in check. Jungwon was specifically happy about this so he would not be electrocuted in his sleep anymore. 

Heeseung brushed his nose against his queen’s temple, “Yes, this is home.” 

Heeseung knew not all threats would be avoided, he was the vampire king after all and the world knew he was and knew about the events that took place at the old castle. Of course, Heeseung has his loyal royal guards stationed at checkpoints throughout the massive land that he now owns. He wasn’t going to completely leave them defenseless. But the hardest part about being a king without the help of everything E once did, Heeseung had to fill those roles too. But with his queen and family at his side, it made it easier. 

Jungwon was still second in command with Jay acting as his third and “second king” when Heeseung wasn’t able to attend. All the jobs E once did were not only equally spread out between Heeseung, Jay, and Jungwon, but now also Archer. Archer took most of the jobs and was happy to do so. 

Each pack member had a role, but those roles only went into effect if needed. Heeseung’s only demand was that they stay happy and healthy. 

Heeseung now kissed his wife's neck, “Why am I the only one bare?” 

She giggled, “My dear, it’s too cold out here to not put clothes on. I’m surprised you’re out here in just your shorts.” 

He smiled against her skin, pulling her with him back into their bedroom. 

“Let’s warm each other up, ya?” he whispered down their bond, closing the balcony doors behind them and her laughter filling the space of the room. 

Everyone was happy. Everyone was safe. And that’s all Heeseung could ever ask for.

—

wow guys, I can’t believe my vampire series is finally over…it’s such a bittersweet feeling. I want to personally thank every single one of you who have followed this story from the very beginning and who has given this series so much love and support. I honestly really can’t thank you all enough. i’m forever grateful.

—perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @lilyuwon @1309zip

—taglist: @jwnghyuns @en-happiness @honeybunnee @jaklvbub @illvding

[luffington]

heat of the summer ♡

➤ summary: It's the hottest day of the year, and thankfully, you're dating the coldest man alive. (18+)

➤ pairing: aokiji (kuzan) x afab!reader

➤ word count: 1.7k

➤ warnings: temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, established relationship, post-timeskip (mild spoilers)

➤ notes: easily one of the sexiest characters in op but he does Not get the love he deserves... sorry if this feels rushed, i tried my hardest to write pwp!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Summer days on summer islands were always pretty intense, but that day was particularly unbearable. According to the daily news, the entire area was experiencing a heat wave, and it was the hottest day the town had seen in decades. Steam rose off of the pavement outside as the sun beat down relentlessly. The air was thick and muggy. Even with every window open, heat was trapped inside your house and it baked like an oven. 

Not that it mattered to Aokiji, of course. He was actually enjoying the bit of warmth he could feel in his unnaturally cold body. The man was lazily reclining back in a chair with the forgotten newspaper draped over his face, giving him some shade he could doze off in. 

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes and peeked out from underneath the paper. You looked miserable. Cheeks bright red, sweat dripping down your face, wet strands of hair stuck to your forehead. Your shorts had been discarded long ago and patches of sweat even soaked through your t-shirt – well, technically his t-shirt, which was comically oversized on you. You held your chest as if you were in genuine pain and whined, “Kuzan, I’m hot.”

“Arara...” Your boyfriend gave you a blank stare. “How cliché.”

Soon your sticky back was pressed against his deliciously cool bare chest, his scarred arm wrapped firmly around your waist to hold you still in his lap. Chilly breath tickled the side of your neck, which would’ve felt refreshing had the situation been innocent. Aokiji’s large thighs hooked under your own to keep your legs wide open for him, your pussy on full display and ass nestled snugly over his clothed bulge. His free hand cupped and kneaded at your breasts.

“I-I think that nipple is, ahh, cool enough now…” You moaned as his icy fingers pulled at the fully pebbled nub, already overwhelmed from the shocking change of temperature. Your other nipple had received the same treatment moments earlier.

“Really?” He asked in his typical deadpan tone, resting his stubbly chin on your shoulder to watch himself run his thumb over the areola. You squirmed in his lap and whimpered, not missing the way his cock twitched beneath you. “I dunno, still feels sweaty to me.”

He could play with your tits for hours if you let him, but you were growing impatient. “I’m hot in other p-places too.” You nuzzled your cheek against his own, his dense curls tickling your skin. 

Aokiji hummed thoughtfully and gave your nipple a final harsh twist, making you gasp. “Show me where.” He teasingly trailed his fingers across your stomach to rub at your hip bone soothingly. “Here?” Moving further down to wrap around your upper thigh, which he gently squeezed in his large palm. “Or here?”

“You’re so irritating,” you pouted. “You know where.”

“Hey, I’m doing all the work here. I’m allowed to have fun.” He grunted and playfully slapped your thigh, smirking at your reaction. But the man didn’t waste any more time – his patience was running almost as thin as yours, judging by the hardon straining for release beneath you. He shifted his knees to spread your legs even more and ran his middle finger through your needy slit. You let out a shaky sigh of relief, eyes fluttering closed. “Mm, I think this heat may be a little out of my control.”

The former Admiral slyly made his thumb a bit frostier than usual, then pressed it firmly against your clit. You yelped in surprise. “Hey, that’s too cold!”

“First you’re too hot, now you’re too cold. Pick a side, baby.” 

“You’re making my body sound like Punk Hazard.”

“Haha, very funny.” He replied sarcastically, trying to hide the amused smile tugging at his full lips. “See what that smart mouth gets you.” 

Suddenly, two fingers shoved past your lips and prodded at the back of your throat. They were instantly coated in spit as you gagged around them, the ridges and grooves of his scarred skin pressing against your wet cavern. The sensation actually felt pretty nice, like sucking on an ice cube. You wished it was his tongue shoved down your throat instead, but Aokiji refused to turn his head and tear his gaze away from your body. 

The man hummed contently when he felt how wet you already were, slick already flowing out of your hole. He shoved a finger inside your cunt all the way to the knuckle, watching transfixed as the large digit slid in and out with a lewd squelching noise. Soon a second finger was added, rubbing at your walls deliciously.

“You could’ve come to me hours ago and asked me to help with the heat, y’know. Then you wouldn’t be all sweaty.” You whined around his fingers as he expertly scissored you apart, messy drool running down your chin. “But you waited until you were all riled up, right? Knowing that I can’t resist this wet pussy?”

Without warning, he firmly pressed against the spot inside you that made you see stars. You jerked in his grasp but he wouldn’t let up his rough pace, pistoning in and out of you while completely ignoring your clit. With wide eyes, you realized what he was trying to do. 

“C’mon baby, let this pretty cunt squirt for me.” He rasped, speeding up his movements and practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. You tried to moan his name around the intrusion in your mouth, heat building in your core until it exploded in a rush of juices spewing out of you. Fingers milking every last drop until you were shaking and shuddering in his arms. He let out a deep chuckle when he noticed the wet stain on his pants. “So good.” He withdrew his digits from your mouth, turned your head towards his and kissed you gently, tongues lazily dancing around each other. 

In one fluid motion, Aokiji stood with your bodies still pressed together and bent you over the table in front of you. You tried to regain your senses, lost in the aftershocks of your orgasm, when you heard the metallic sound of a zipper behind you. “Wh-wha…?” You looked over your shoulder to see the man stroke his fully hardened dick a few times. “More already?!”

“I thought this was about cooling you off,” Aokiji tapped the head of his cock against your clit, making you cry out from overstimulation. “Last I checked, it’s only getting hotter outside.” 

He danced his fingertips down your spine, leaving behind a light trail of ice that quickly melted into cool droplets of water. Delighting in the way his icy touch made you shiver and shake. Then he grabbed your hip hard and slowly pushed his massive length inside your awaiting heat. 

“Shit, so tight,” Aokiji groaned from deep in his throat. He was only halfway inside you and you were already overwhelmed, desperately clawing at the table’s smooth surface for some stability. The man halted his movements and folded his body over yours, careful not to put too much of his weight on you. Your size difference wasn’t lost on him – even after countless rounds of fucking over time, your cunt still had trouble adjusting to his length. “Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, his chilly breath tickling your ear. You took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “I know it’s a lot. Just relax, baby. You’re doing so well.”

He took your hands in his own, interlacing your fingers, and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. Once your breathing had slowed, he continued to slowly move his hips forward, pushing in inch after inch of his cock. You mewled when his hips finally met yours, heavy balls slapping against your cunt. 

“Let me know when it’s okay to move.” His thumb ran soothing circles over the back of your hand. 

You only took a minute to adjust, letting your muscles relax and open up for him. Your cunt was still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but at least it was wet enough to make the glide smoother. When you were ready, you smiled to yourself and said, “I’m surprised you’re moving at all. I figured your lazy ass would make me ride you. Again.”

“Yeah, you’re okay now.” He rolled his eyes affectionately and pulled his cock halfway out before roughly slamming back into you. You practically shrieked at the delicious burn on your walls. 

He quickly established a harsh pace, rocking the table back and forth with the force of his thrusts. His enormous dick hit your cervix every time, causing a delightful mix of pleasure and pain throughout your core. Your stomach felt so full — you knew from experience that it was bulging with the outline of his cock. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head when he started rubbing your clit in tight circles. He was already close. He normally had more stamina, but seeing you so desperate for him, the only person in the world who could provide this comfort on a hot day, made his balls ache. 

“Gonna cum,” he grunted and nipped at your ear.

That was the only warning you got before the icy man’s hot cum burst inside you, coating your walls. The feeling of nearly impossible fullness brought you to your peak as well and you cried out, eyes scrunched shut and mouth hanging open. Aokiji’s giant body stayed pressed to your back, thumb drawing cold circles on your hip as he waited for you to come down from your high. You jolted when he finally pulled his cock out and he let out a low whistle at the sight of his semen flowing out of your hole and down your thighs. 

Body still slumped over the table, you looked back at him and batted your eyelashes. “Can you cool me off in a normal way now?”

“Sure,” he shrugged and hoisted your body over his broad shoulder, making you squeal in surprise. He paid no mind, casually strolling towards the bedroom. “I’ll be the big spoon.”

“Wha— Kuzan, it’s two pm!” You protested, knowing you’d be stuck in bed cuddling him for at least a few hours. “I meant, like… creating ice cubes for me. Or taking a cold shower together.”

“Nope. It’s my nap time.” 

Well, it was too hot to do something else, anyways.

[danikamariewrites]

Can I ask for some more Azriel content 💙

Where reader really likes hickeys/marks on them but hasn't told him , Az realizes how reader always shows off marks on them like wearing revealing clothing,/wearing their hair up so people can see and gives them some more marks to show off.

Possessive Azriel 🥵

Mark Me

Azriel x reader

A/n: at first this was a headcanon but then it was better like this. I’m very sorry for cutting y’all off from smut I’ll make it up to you I swear 😭

Warnings: hickeys, suggestive

You loved when Azriel left marks on you after making out or sex. When ever you and Az make out you straddle him, run your fingers through his hair and when he finally reaches your neck you use all your power to keep him there. His lips felt like heaven traveling across your heated skin.

Another reason you love the marks. It’s a way to let people know that he’s yours and you’re happily taken. Whenever your neck is littered with love bites from him you wear your hair up in a ponytail and something with a low neckline.

At first Azriel was a little nervous when he noticed you were showing them off. “Baby are you sure you’re ok with how much I left?” He asked one morning while you were making breakfast for you both. His scarred fingers trailing down your neck, gently touching the sensitive purple marks he left the night before. “Yeah Az. I wouldn’t show them off if I didn’t like them.” You said with a smirk as you gently grabbed his hand twining your fingers with his.

You loved them on your neck, but you wanted more. Wanted Azriel to leave those special marks in places only you and him would know about. You wanted to feel his mouth all over your body, feel his fingers squeeze you all over.

You wanted to tell Azriel about your wants but were unsure how he would take it. You didn’t want him to think you were being hurt. And you’d hate to see him become quite and shy again. Your big fear was that he’d think he was bringing his job home to you.

Azriel noticed how quite you were one night as you both relaxed in bed. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “Nothing,” your voice coming out extra high pitched to cover up your lie. Azriel gave you a pointed look. You couldn’t hide anything from the Spymaster. “Please tell me my love.”

“You know when we make out? And I keep you on my neck?” Azriel nodded telling you to keep going. “I really like when you leave hickeys or marks on me. And I want more but I didn’t want you to think you were hurting me.”

You watched as Azriel’s pupils dilated taking over the soft hazel of his unreadable eyes. Azriel quickly had you pinned under him. His face inches from yours. You instinctively wrap your legs around Azriel’s hips grounding your core into his hardening cock. Azriel let go of your wrists to grip your hair to pull your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

Azriel leaned down brushing his nose and lips against your sensitive skin. A shiver runs down your spine as you push yourself into his face. He lightly nips at you and tuts, “Patience baby. Let me take my time. I’ve dreamed about marking you up like this. To have me all over you. It drives me wild when you show them off.” A small whimper leaves your lips.

After an insufferable amount of teasing kisses down your neck and chest, Azriel finally started sucking and biting your neck. Making a choker of love bites around your neck. Azriel made sure to be extra hard when it came to biting you so that the marks would last.

Once he was done with your newest piece of jewelry Azriel moved down to your chest and collar bones. Licking and sucking your most sensitive spots. You lazily had your arms draped around his shoulders, lightly running your nails across his upper back. Just skirting over where his wings grew from his back. You moaned his name and he chuckled darkly against your skin.

Azriel brought his head up slowly to meet your blissed out gaze. The scent of both your arousal mixing in the room. You were desperate for him. To feel his lips touch the most intimate parts of you. You felt Azriel’s hand trace shapes on your thigh, pushing your nightgown up your thigh.

“Shall I keep going?” His voice dark and smooth. You nod, letting a pathetic sounding whine fall from your lips as he moves down your body.

————

When the two of you joined the rest of the Inner Circle for breakfast the next morning it was quite interesting. You and Azriel were going about the meal like nothing was out of the ordinary. Like you weren’t wearing an off the shoulder dress to display the intense hickeys Azriel left on you last night.

Cassian kept looking between you and your mate, giggling like a child. Nesta had given up on trying to get him to stop just rolling her eyes. Rhys was doing his best not to make it too obvious that he was looking. And Feyre and Mor were giggling like little girls smirking along with you.

After an awkward silence Rhys cleared his throat, “So, Azriel. Are you ready for-“ “Oh come on!” Cassian interrupted. “We’re going to ignore his smugness and the whole situation!” He gestured at the two of you.

You made eye contact with Feyre, immediately feeling the familiar caress of her mental talons on your mind. “You are going to give us the details later, right?” “Oh, obviously. You are going to lose it.” You subtly wink at her going back to the commotion of the three brothers semi-fighting with each other.

Under the table you rest a hand on Azriel’s thigh. Lightly scratching your nails against his leathers like you did to his back last night. He gently placed a scarred hand on top of yours.

[wingedhallows]

i got my eye on you; marauders

pairing: marauders (sirius black x reader) | 3.3k words plot: albus reaches out to you to keep the marauders save, to not have them die, so you join them in their seventh year. authors note: this is by far the longest fic i ever wrote and it'll have several parts. I hope you like it :) have a good weekend, y'all <3

navigation | part one ; part two

“For some of you, this will be the last- '' The doors to the great hall opened with a loud squeak and all heads whipped to who had entered. It was uncomfortably quiet as a young woman, looking no older than twenty five, entered the hall.

Her appearance was unusual, to say the least. Students stared as they took in her appearance, the long hair, the loose jeans and the many many tattoos. Her face was adorned with make up, some jewelry graced her neck as well as her fingers and and her feet were plucked into beat up sneakers.

The students didn’t miss the pack of cigarettes which she had just shoved into the pocket of her pants or how her made-up eyes looked over the mass of teenagers. 

The way she walked was confident, relaxed. Her arms swung by her side in a comfortable manner, something the students hadn’t seen in the halls of Hogwarts ever. As she reached the podium where Dumbledore stood, he embraced her in a hug. 

“I’m late, sorry for that.” You said, Dumbledore swatted his hand and rubbed your upper arm. “No problem at all, Y/N. Life as a young Auror gets busy, does it not?” You gave him a small smile and turned around to walk up to the teachers, hand held out for them to take. As you came back to Albus, he had a hand on your shoulder. “They’re right there, just sit down with them.” He pointed his bony finger at the Gryffindor table, you couldn’t make out who he meant but followed suit.

Albus had contacted you a few weeks ago to give him a helping hand. A group of students, infamously titled the marauders were in grave danger, something about a prophecy and Voldemort. You didn’t need to know more when Albus had sounded so desperate.

You stepped off the podium and walked down the Gryffindor table, the gazes of students burning into your form. Just as you slowed down at a boy you had seen before, the older Black son, Sirius Orion Black, you stopped.

You looked back at Dumbledore and pointed at the bench. With a small nod you walked up to them. “Excuse me.” You spoke and within seconds the boys parted like Moses had the sea. You sat down and avoided their eyes when Albus started to talk again.

The teens looked at you, examining you. “As I was saying-” You weren’t listening as you looked at them. The boy on your right across the table had dark hair, not as long as the Black’s but it was neatly styled. His tie sat untidy in the center of his uniform and he looked your way a few times, too shy to actually keep eye contact. T

he one next to him looked tidier, his tie was neatly pulled together, his hand rested on a book which you couldn’t make the title out of. His face was graced with faint reddish scars and his eyes were glued to Dumbledore.

The table stayed faintly quiet as Albus stopped talking and breakfast was announced. “Relax.” You said, eyes now glued to your face. With a tap to the plate it vanished and a steaming cup of coffee emerged in its place. You fished the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and pushed one between your lips. Black, who was seated to your right, grabbed your arm, biscuit in his other hand.

“No smoking on grounds.” The tidy boy spoke, as Black retreated his hand. “Rules.” Sirius spoke, he shook his head, obviously thinking those to be absurd. You gave them a small smile before you lit the cigarette with a tip of your finger.

“The rules don’t count for me.” The dark haired boy furrowed his eyebrows and huffed before he spoke. “But-”I’m not a student.” You took a sip from your coffee and spoke again.

“I’d be a bit too old for that.” You took a drag from your cigarette, enjoying the way the smoke filled your lungs. You huffed the smoke over their heads and took another sip. “No fair.” Sirius crumbled next to you.

You looked to your right and held the cigarette out for him. With wide eyes he watched you, without a word you nodded your head at him. He hesitated but embraced the stick between his lips and took a drag. Without as much as a cough he blew out the smoke and gave you a small smile. “Thanks.” You didn’t answer before you took another drag.

“My name’s Y/N and I’m here to look out for you-”Look out for us?” You eyed him through your lashes with a glare. “James.” The boy next to him nudged his shoulder and he retreated with a quick sorry.

“You goin’ to interrupt me again, James?” James shook his head “No ma’am.” Your lips twisted into a grin “Good.”

You propped your arms onto the table and started to talk again. “I can’t tell you why, orders from way up.” You paused as you saw them frown.

“I wanna make one thing clear, I’m not here to keep you in check.” You paused “I’m simply here to not have you die, I couldn’t care less about what you do in school.” The boy to your left shuffled to look at you. “Look at me like a friend, you can come to me for help and whatever else you want, I kinda have a free pass here.” You pointed at the pack of cigarettes.

“So, you’re just here to keep us safe?” The boy next to James spoke and you nodded. “Exactly.” James wasn’t convinced, eyebrows still knitted together. “But that doesn’t make sense, we’re good at taking care of ourselves. Sirius has a mean right hook and I’m the best quidditch player in our school. We can take-”No you can’t.” You broke him off.

“Not during these times.” He eyed you some more before he returned to his breakfast.

Just as James opened his mouth again you caught Albus in the corner of your eyes. He had his hand raised, asking you to meet him up in his office. You understood and spoke after you had shoved the cigarettes back into your pocket.

“Excuse me.” You said, Sirius wanted to keep a hold on you, to not let you go but within a second the space next to him was empty. You had apparated away, on school grounds. Maybe you were right after all, you did have a free pass.

Albus only wanted to remind you of your mission, keep them safe. He handed you their schedule and sent you on your merry way. You apparated into Minerva's classroom, startling two girls in the process. The lesson hadn’t started yet and the room was buzzing with voices.

James and Sirius were seated together, Remus sat with Peter. Albus had shown you pictures, pointed them out to you. There was a bench behind the four which was vacant, so you decided to place yourself there.

You had no business here, you knew. You had finished your school years at Mahoutokoro in Japan about three years ago, you were no longer a student and you didn’t desire to be one ever again but this mission, this task, which Albus put in your hands felt too important to act upon your dislikement of school.

“Oh, Y/N.” Remus said with a small smile on his face as he noticed you.

You gave him a small wave of your fingers and leaned back in your chair, Sirius and James now sat facing you. “You’ll join the lessons too?” You nodded and lit yourself a cigarette, they didn’t question it this time.

“Albus told me to feel free to join in if I wanted to.” Sirius brought a hand through his brown locks and gave you a flirty smile. “Should’ve sat behind you then, Snivellus’ an eyesore.” You gave him a grin and eyed the fellow student. He was hunched over his desk, gaze locked on his workbook.

“So, you’ll join-”You’re in my seat.” A blonde boy interrupted James, he stood right in front of you, his blonde hair framed his face like a helmet.

“I don’t see a name.” You smiled, taking a drag from your cigarette. “This seat is mine.” He said again, nose held high. You raised from your chair and placed yourself in front of the nuisance of a boy. His jaw was clenched and his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“Well now it’s mine.” You almost whispered, the classroom had gotten awfully quiet, eager to catch a glimpse of your quarrel.

“I’ll say it one more time, this seat is mine, you mud-”I wouldn’t if I were you. I’m the furthest thing from a mudblood, not that I like the sound of that insult.” Your face contorted into a frown before you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke right in his face. The blonde coughed violently as you looked down on him.

“Get away from me.” You said before you sat down and crossed your legs over each other. The boy took a step forward, fists clenched and face flushed.

Sirius and James were fast to stand up, square their shoulders and stare him down. You felt like there were two guard dogs standing right behind you.

“This isn’t finished.” He spat before he turned around and found himself and his buddy a seat. His eyes found yours again before you raised your hand to flip him off.

Sirius burst into laughter as he reached over the desk and patted you on the shoulder. “You’re growing on me, love.”

“Malfoy’s an arse, don’t fret it.” James laughed before you waved him off. “I think I can handle him just fine, James.”

Just as Minerva stepped into the room you had any evidence of a cigarette vanishing. McGonagall wrinkled her nose in displeasure as she placed her bag down.

“Who smoked in my classroom?” The boys didn’t move, you just raised your eyebrows, you’d get him for good. “No one?” You wiped the smirk off your face as you raised your hand.

“Minerva, can I call you that?” The woman faced you, her face didn’t change as she simply nodded.

“I’m not normally one to tell, but I believe that school rules are of utmost importance for students, it was like that for me when I visited Mahoutokoro.” You paused to flash her a small smile, a smile that said, I’m on your side, I’m here to support, not side with students.

“I believe I saw Mr. Malfoy over there enjoying a cigarette just a few moments ago. I’m not one to disdain smoking, as I enjoy it myself but as we all know, I’m no longer a student, but Mr. Malfoy is one and I believe that this should be addressed.”

You were amazed by yourself, you hadn’t been a two faced bitch since school. The boys turned around, faces painted with disbelief. Sirius had to hide the grin on his face. Peter stared at you in horror, how could you be so absolutely stellar at lying, without a stutter or a twitch of guiltiness. 

“Very well, Y/N. Do you have proof to reinforce those accusations?” She stepped a row closer to you, hands clasped together. Malfoy shot to his feet, face bright red with anger as he tried to speak.

“Professor, you couldn’t possibly believe-”I believe a quick whiff should be enough, cigarettes leave a rather strong smell on people who smoke.” 

Minerva gave you a nod and proceeded to where the blonde boy sat, his eyes widened in horror. You had blown the smoke at him, it would still linger. The teacher reached her head forward and smelled the boy's uniform, with a gasp she retreated.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m truly disappointed, smoking on school grounds is bad enough but in my classroom of all places. 10 points from Slytherin and detention.” You sat down and gave the boys a smirk, they turned around with an amused expression on their faces.

“Thank you, Y/N. It’s nice to see someone acting their age.” You didn’t respond and just gave her a smile.

-

“I can’t believe you got Malfoy detention.” James laughed. “Not to mention the house points off Slytherin!” Sirius laughed before he threw an arm over your shoulder. You just shook your head and took the cigarette he had snatched from you back. His fingers played with your hair as you occupied your free hand with your lighter.

“So, you’re just going to spend your free period with me here?” You tried and Peter hummed, his arms snaked around his school bag. You’d told them that you’d like to go for a smoke, to get some peace but that apparently doesn’t exist without those four.

“So, how old are you actually?” James spoke, your eyes found his. Remus jabbed him in the side and you chuckled, taking another drag of the cigarette before Sirius grabbed your arm to take a drag himself.

“Not cool, man.” Sirius commented. You were so close, so intimate. It didn’t feel weird though, it didn’t bother you. Being with him felt so easy, so comfortable. Was that a bad thing? You felt as if you were letting your guard down, what if you were too distracted to keep them safe? All those thoughts disappeared when Sirius’ hand rested on your shoulder.

“24.” You simply answered. Remus finally sat down in front of you, his shoulders seemed less tense. “You went to school in Japan, why that?” You shifted your legs and put the cigarette out letting it once again disappear in the palm of your hand.

“I was originally going to spend my school years here at Hogwarts but when my parents saw my potential they decided to send me to a school which took more pride in their students power and skill than anything else.” You paused and lit yourself another cigarette.

“My parents insisted on my transfer to Mahoutokoro when I was barely twelve years old, I haven’t seen them since I was transferred.” Sirius retreated his arm to fully face you.

“What do you mean?” James spoke, eyebrows furrowed. “I never forgave them for ripping me away from everything I knew, my friends, my family, my mother tongue. Everything.” 

“So you never spoke to them again?” Peter leaned forward, intrigued by the conversation. You nodded your head, eyes on the ground you sat on. “Not one word.”

“What’s Maktokoro-”Mahoutokoro.” You interrupted Sirius, who just swatted your attempt of correcting him away. “Yes, that.”

You caught the boy looking at your hand and without a word you raised the cigarette to his mouth, his warm hand grasped yours gently and he clasped the stick in between his lips. The way he looked, the way he felt, did something to you. Heat spreads from your chest over your shoulder.

“I-It’s very disciplined, hence why I look how I look.” You paused to catch your breath and to rip your gaze from the delicious looking man next to you.

“No tattoos, no dying your hair, no casual clothes, no nothing. The only nice thing is the scenery.” Sirius held a drink for you to take and with a thankful smile you took it.

“Mahoutokoro is big in Qidditch, it wasn’t my cup of tea but the matches were a sight to see.” James leaned back with a smirk on his face.

“Well, Quidditch’s our expertise.” You raised your eyebrows at him. “I’m a seeker myself, Sirius’ a beater.” You smiled at him and nodded your head. “I guess I have to watch you play, then?” 

Sirius let out a chuckle and threw his arm over your shoulder once again. “Of course, love. I need something worth winning for.” You had to laugh yourself before you intertwined your fingers with his before he placed the cigarette in front of your mouth again. You took a drag and blew the smoke past him.

“You don’t play?” You addressed the other two boys.

“No, Peter and I are not so skilled regarding Quidditch.” Remus laughed, his book wandering to his other hand.

“Moony’s the one with the best grades though, Quidditch only gets you so far.” James threw in and Remus gave him a small smile. “Oh, so you’re the smartest?” Remus had to chuckle and shook his head.

“He’s only being modest.” Sirius whispered in your ear and you nodded before Sirius dropped the done cigarette into your palm and it vanished.

Seated all the way in the back you were surprised to see one of your former teachers teach Defense Against Dark Arts here at Hogwarts. Hayato Fujimoto was one of your favorite teachers when you went to school, to see him here now fills you with comfort. 

He broke into a bright smile as he welcomed the students. “We have a guest here, as it seems.” He paused to lean on his desk. You waved at him before he waved you to the front of the class.

“Miss Y/N here was one of my most talented students, with excellent skills in wandless magic and dueling. I’m happy to have you here, so far from home. I hope you’re willing to show your skills to my students sometime.” You gave him a smile and tilted your head towards him.

“Of course, Professor.” He waved you off “Please, you’re no longer one of my students, call me Hayato.” You couldn’t do that, you knew and he knew as well.

“Alright students, get in line, find yourself a partner.” Fujimoto waved his hands to rush them along, his white hair jumped with the effort. You stayed behind, to stay out of their way.

These lessons, learning how to defend themselves, were important. Even if the professor was eager to show you off, you wanted them to train, to be able to wield those defensive spells, especially Sirius, James, Remus and Peter.

You made your way to them, watching them. James trained with Peter, Sirius with Remus. Spell after spell jumped between them, but you noticed right away, they were going easy on each other. They didn’t take it seriously.

Without a word you stepped in front of Remus, who retreated with wide eyes. “What?” He mumbled as Sirius lowered his wand with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Raise that wand, Black.” You paused before he stepped forward, following suit and raised his wand again.

“Hit me with the best you got.” He hesitated but nodded, wielding his wand.

“Stupefy!” He yelled and with a flick of your hand it dispersed, you looked bored. “Don’t go easy on me now, Sirius.” He took a breath and raised his wand again.

“Rictusempra!” He tried again, but you waved it off once again. With a nameless spell you sent him off his feet, he flew a feet meters and landed on his ass.

You frowned and walked over to him. Your hand reached to his head and your other one held his shoulder. His hair was fluffy, softer than you expected it to be. “You okay?” He huffed and sent you a pained grin, trying to play off the aching in his buttocks. 

“Fine.” He mumbled before he got to his feet again. You brushed his shirt off and rubbed his upper arm. He nodded and took his wand from your hand.

“I didn’t want to knock you off your feet, sorry about that.” You said before he grabbed your arm, warm hand grasping your flesh.

“That’s twice now, you owe me.” He said with a smirk on his face.

For once, you were speechless. You expected him to be mad, to dislike you but he flirted. Your cheeks felt hot and your heartbeat sped up. This wasn’t good, not good at all.

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Star Wars: The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x fReader

Fic Rating: E

Chapter Rating: E (choking, force choking, vaginal sex, brief blowjob, mild dom elements)

AO3

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

SIX

A composition crafted by the insatiable craving for Qimir, a dream descends upon you. Layered with softness and simulated sensory aphrodisiacs, you step into your dream with wanton expectations for the stranger who knows exactly how to touch you.

Should be troubling. Would be if not for the comforting reassurance of sleep.

Here in the dark where stars shimmer through the black backlit canopy, there is a bed and the outline of the helmeted stranger who inhabits your dreams sitting on the edge of it. His upper half is disrobed and in the flicker of that campfire in the distance that’s always in your dreams now, your eyes drink in the muscle but drift to the scars. Slightly lifted on his skin, they meld one into the other and you know them for what they are. Naked and vulnerable, you step toward him. Briefly your fingers dust along similar scars lining your right side.

Scars of the past.

Scars of the saber.

Scars of the discarded.

Was he discarded too?

You reach out to him, chest squeezing tight with a longing for him. It’s easier to be brave in dreams. Easier still when you share something in common.

You dare to rest your hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says.

“Aw, you missed me.”

“And you missed me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says. “Even if your mind drifts to—what’s his name?”

Qimir.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. To you.”

He’s right but you’re still not willing to gift the name. Makes it too real. But it is real isn’t it?

Not here. Not in a dream.

“I had the opportunity to take him,” you say quietly, unprompted, rubbing your thumb gently across the skin of his shoulder. “We were a heap on the floor, chests beating in synchronization. I still remember his breath on my lips, the way his hand fit in mine. Couldn’t treasure the touch. The want—the want was so overpowering—like being dragged underneath tumultuous waves. I couldn’t breathe.”

“So you came up for air.”

“I gasped for air. But that want—” Your eyes flutter closed.

“It persists.”

“Yes.” A whisper. “And I knew you could accept it. Maybe even mutually want it too. And here—in my dreams—it’s safer. Maybe even allowed.” Your eyes open again.

He stands, your hand slipping away from his shoulder, and reaches out, grasping your wrist tight as he whirls you into him. Practically a possession clutched against his chest, your back presses against the warmth of his skin. It’s been some time since you’ve been held in this way. Strongly. Tightly. Safely. A sigh of relief slips from your lips. His hand wraps around your waist, fingers sprawling as they gradually climb up your body. You awake to the current of his touch. Mapping out the curve of your breasts, he squeezes once and then trails his fingers over your shoulder and dusts them down your arm. Crawls them across your fingers and entangles them with his own before he lifts them to your sternum. Gently, he slides them further upward, caressing your throat.

That shame tugs at you. Memories of certain hands around your throat can induce panic but his hands—his hands induce thrill and excitement. You want more of it but you feel like you shouldn’t.

“Is this why you came?” His words break through your thought spiral and pull you back to him.

“No—and yes,” you admit. “I need you—to guide me. Teach me.”

There’s a shaky, modulated breath as his other hand smooths down your side and around your hip, pulling you tighter against his body. The helmet is cool against your temple as he rests his head against yours.

“But you still deny it. Suppress it.”

You swallow, your linked hands still lingering at the skin of your neck. Deny what? Suppress what? It can’t possibly be desire as it pools between your legs. You realize he’s speaking of the force.

“But I want—I want—”

His hand slips down your body, finger beginning to worry at your clit and the words you were going to say are lost in a small moan.

“Not enough. Not yet.”

“How do you—”

“Mmm. Your shame betrays you.” His voice robotically rumbles at a slowed cadence in your ear. “It holds you back. It’s why you still just stand here, not asking and especially not taking what you want.”

“I don’t know—” A small whine escapes as he circles your clit, the steady pressure of his firm cock bumping into your ass as he grinds against you. “—how to let go,” you whisper.

“Don’t know how or won’t?” His hand stills.

“Please—please don’t stop.”

“Release your shame. Loose your desire.”

“I—can’t.”

He untangles himself from you. Grasping you by the shoulders, he twists you to face him. Your heart hammers erratically as your eyes fall to his body as his hands slip from your shoulders. Sculpted arms dangling at his sides, he flexes his fingers as he holds himself tall and patient. His breathing is as ragged as yours, and in the lift of his chest, you spy a faint mole and search out more of them. They reveal themselves on his collarbone and further down his body where you instinctively reach out and skim along his side, thumbing downward along the angular line that defines his abs. You brush your index against the mole there. You want to kiss each of them but you don’t. You withdraw your hand and glance back up to the helmet.

A tilt of his head and those metal teeth mock you, tease you, smile at the pathetic way you waver between who you are and who you long to be. Or you imagine that must be what he thinks of you. But then he gently takes your hand and places it on his chest, assisting you in tracing his skin.

“You can,” he says, voice low and almost soft. “You are free here.” Of your own volition, your other hand traverses his body, fingers tucking in around his waistband. “That’s it. Keep going.” A sharp intake of breath. “Show me what else you can do.”

Enthusiasm builds in your chest and you remember what it’s like to have the force at your fingertips. It wouldn’t be so bad to use it here, right? You’re not really using it. Closing your eyes, you grasp at it with an open palm against his chest. A slight tug in your mind and his pants are on the ground. A push and he’s falling backwards onto the sheets. They wrinkle as he rights himself into a better position while your eyes drink in his whole appearance. His body is gorgeous and you can assume his face must be too and if not, it’s easy to picture Qimir’s easy smile and flirtatious eyes. His cock throbs in anticipation as you crawl onto the bed and briefly cup his balls, eliciting an expelled sigh. You run your tongue along the taut skin, tasting the salt from the bit of precum on his tip before you wrap your lips around and suck. He groans, then jerks impulsively, the head of his shaft hitting the back of your throat before you grin and withdraw. He pulls up on elbows, that helmet tilted as his chest heaves. You know he watches you eagerly but impatient now.

You straddle him. Slumping over his chest, knees against each of his hips, hovering just above his enthusiastic cock, you palm his chest. It’s just as you had imagined doing to Qimir—only better. Slipping up and back down his body, you carve out the lines and curves with your hands. Your fingers inch along his skin, savoring every placement and touch. Shudder and spasm of his muscles. The stillness he maintains as he allows you to explore all of him and act out what once was a fantasy of Qimir, quickly becomes a reality of this helmeted stranger who lives in your dream and he’s all that resides in your mind now.

“That’s it. Good,” he praises, tone dipping deeper and you swallow. “Don’t put that on a leash now.”

Bending over his chest, you press your lips to his skin, teeth dragging down to his nipple. You swirl your tongue across the peak, drawing it into your mouth. His modulated moan sends a thrill through your core and you bite down.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

Your eyes flick up to where his would be without the helmet. “Too much?”

“Hardly. I was merely expressing my surprise. Didn’t think you had it in—”

You bite his other nipple before he can finish that sentence and his words are replaced by a hiss and swear as you run your fingernails down his skin, relishing in the way the flesh blossoms pink in parallel streaks.

This isn’t what you had planned for Qimir.

Those fantasies were laced with butter and sweetness—sculpted soft. Tender.

But something about this man makes you feel possessively primal. Like he can handle the claw and bite of every one of your demons. Thrive in the shroud of your shadow. Revel in your darkest impulses. Accept every part of you that you can’t even imagine accepting yourself. It’s the certainty that he will teach you in time that makes you need him even more.

You sink down onto him, unhurried, as every girthy inch fills your wet cunt. The thought of chasing pleasure is all that consumes you.

A curse. Yours or his? Doesn’t matter.

A praise. An encouragement. He utters words that coax out every raw desire that resides in you. Rolling your hips, your hand inches up to his neck, fingers clamping tight but not too tight, knuckles accessorizing the jutting line of that cortosis covered jaw.

“Do you like that?” You ask, as he thrusts upward from beneath you.

Your hips slam him back down, thighs squeezing tight to keep him steady. To keep control.

This is your dream. Your desire.

“Yes,” he breathes, stilted and shaking. There’s a bead of sweat gathered at the base of his neck. His own hand rises, cupped in a half moon and the force vibrates through your body, becoming a vise around your own neck. “Do you?”

Eyes darkening, you rise and sink down on him again in answer. “More,” you demand.

He obliges as you squeeze him tighter too. He lets out a groan as breathing becomes more difficult, driving you to ride him harder. A choked, almost pained moan slips from your lips.

“Better?”

You manage a nod, self-control snapping as you continue to ride the warmth of his cock, chasing your own pleasure heightened by his rattled, strained sighs. Faster. Rougher. Barely breathing but driven by greed. Chest nearly bursting. Your hips rise and fall with the rhythm of his harried breaths and the silent repetition of how good his cock feels stretching you.

Or you thought it was silent.

Until he responds, “you take it so well.”

Another curse spills from your lips.

That’s it,” he says in a ragged coo. “Keep with it. A little more. Just a little more.”

Your hands slip from his neck and dig into the soft skin of his chest, knuckles knocking against the tautness of his muscle as he meets your fervor with his own eager, swift thrusts from below. One hand falls to your thigh and he grasps tight as your air is still constrained in your lungs. It’s a new kind of feverish high. An ecstasy as your eyes roll back, whimpers buried deep in your chest as each thrust from him and grinding of your hips guides you to that climatic precipice.

You hover there in that plane of almost—almost—almost—

His hand skims up your thigh and he circles your clit with his thumb.

“Mmm, you are doing so well. Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you answer, the syllable drawn out and dissipating into a whimpering sigh.

He stills and that force chokehold he has on you is used to his advantage as he angles himself deeper, hitting that sweet spot that jolts pleasure through every nerve of your body, constricting your airflow more. You’re afraid you might shatter. But still you fuck him, fast and fierce and freely.

“Yes, that’s it. Come for me,” he beckons.

That voice of his, those practiced hands, and the warm fullness of his cock extracts a broken and guttural cry. Hands flying back, digging into the flesh of his thighs as your walls constrict, your back arches with the internal coil of your body.

“Now,” he commands. “Let yourself go.”

Another thrust and you groan, all tension relenting and washing away with a few more staccatoed sighs and sputtered breaths. Eyes shut tight, you steady your breathing, settling into silent streams of satisfaction. Stars dot your eyelids and you drift—drift—drift in a thoughtless sea. The stars fade. The drifting ceases. Slowly, your fingers spread out, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“Mmm, such a good girl,” he says and relinquishes the force grip on your throat. “You did so well.”

Gulping in air, your eyes fly open as you crumple over his chest and his fingers thread through your hair.

—

“Stay with me,” he says, grasping your wrist and pulling you closer. His fingers skim across yours and he toys with them, helmet resting on top of your head. “Don’t withdraw into yourself.”

You press your lips against his collarbone and trail them along his neck, where he tilts his chin up just enough to give you better access under his helmet. You push away the questions that beg for an answer with the placement of kisses against his cooled skin. You can save them for another dream. Throwing your leg up over his, you note he’s still surprisingly hard. He commanded your pleasure but held back on his.

“Don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical,” you mumble against his chest.

His fingers scrawl amatory letters across the back of your hands. “What?”

“You tell me to unleash my desire while you hold onto yours.”

“Is it hypocritical if the reasons for denying such desires vastly differ? I feel no shame. Controlled denial for the sake of the exciting and inevitable release over a long course of time is rewarding. I don’t punish myself. You and I are not the same.”

“Why couldn’t you just say you enjoy edging?”

“Semantics.”

A chuckle against his chest and you wonder if you can work him back up into a frenzy with the tug of the force. It hums for you, begging you to access it again in the enclosure of the stranger’s arms. If he wasn’t wearing that helmet, you could give him a fuller, more exhilarating experience. Or at least you tell yourself that’s the reason when really you just want to see his face. Your desires have shifted. You now seek equitable vulnerability in this exchange of intimacy.

Skimming your fingers up his chest and hovering just under his chin, they curl around the edge of the helmet. Slowly, gauging his reaction, you lift. You spy the faintest glimpse of some facial hair. But his hands curl around your wrists; a plea.

“I want to see you. Your face,” you mumble.

“It seems you understand the lesson.”

“Do I? I unleashed desire, as you said, but the want has returned.”

His fingers are gentle on your wrists as he continues to hold them, thumbing up and down. “Desire can never be satiated. Not fully. When you thirst, you drink. When you hunger, you eat. But that want only goes away for a short time. You see, desire is a need. You need to want. Without it, you waste away. With it, you find passion. And passion—is your strength.”

“I was taught there can be no contentment if you chase every want. No gratitude. Taught that I must free myself from my emotions and find peace only in what is destined to come to me by a greater will than my own.”

“Peace is a lie,” he says. “There is only passion.”

Such a simple statement, yet very much against what you were told all your life. You were taught to suppress everything. Abide by a million rules and be over criticized when you break one. That untamed passion, the kind he speaks of, is the path to the dark side. But here, in the stranger’s arms, it doesn’t feel dark to be guided by passion.

No.

It feels unburdensome.

Warm. Safe. Light.

Though you will still abide by what you know best by day, you realize the numbness is all but gone here in his arms by night. And you're drawn to this man and his lessons. Sworn to them.

Your desire to see his face is even greater now.

Bargaining for more than you deserve, maybe even taking advantage of the lesson, you yank up on the helmet. But before you can register his face, the haze shifts and the screaming of your name tears you from sleep.

[rainintheevening]

The day 19-year-old Peter Pevensie ships out for the Mediterranean, lieutenant's commission and a COs commendation in hand, he's all tall, golden boy in British khaki with a soft smile and a merry laugh and oddly old eyes.

His socks are hand-knitted, with his initials PWP worked in around the top. He wears a small golden lion on a leather string around his neck, tucked under his shirt alongside his dogtags.

In his kit bag he carries a Bible, new, brown leather, not too big to be jammed in a pocket. The writing on the first page is tidy, a little squared off, no blots: June 1943, Peter, my brother, my captain, my king. We are all held safe between the paws of the Lion. Ephesians 6:10-18.

Tucked in beside that is a small, chunky book of Spurgeon's sermons, with Prof. Digory Kirke in the corner of the flyleaf, and a loose-leaf of paper that Peter uses for a bookmark, precious though it is, covered in his father's barely legible scratch.

There's a hand-bound book of poems, copied by Lucy and collected with several of Susan's watercolours, all trees like old friends and flowers like stars and rolling English hills. It will take months for those pages to stop smelling like home.

Next to that is tucked a sturdy little journal, pencil attached and fat with empty cream-coloured pages. It will take only a week for it to lose its clean smell, and the many words scribbled there will make it fatter still.

Three others are piled in around those—a beat-up hardback novel stripped of its dust jacket and stamped as White Fang, a bright new George MacDonald novel with Be brave, my son, and may the adventure always bring you safely home. Mother penned inside, and another naked hardback identified along its spine as The Aeneid.

Some eyebrows get raised at the extra weight of that library, but Peter is charming and humble, and he'll be the only one to suffer from it anyway.

A little more than two years later Peter Pevensie will return with a captain’s epaulets on his shoulders, and the same soft smile on a leaner, browner face.

He will be wearing an entirely different pair of socks, but still ones that have PWP worked into the stripes along the top.

The leather string will be gone, and so will the little gold lion, folded into a shaking hand, given with a murmured prayer and a kiss pressed to salty fevered forehead, somewhere on the side of an Italian mountain.

The books will be nearly all there. The Bible, wrinkled with water damage, fingerprinted with little dark smears, it's cover scored with a smokey black streak. The poetry, cared for so carefully; the sermons, well earmarked and notated; the MacDonald novel now sans dust jacket, spine cracked, and with grit worked into its creases.

The Aeneid will still be there, though greatly altered thanks to the bullet buried in the upper half of it.

White Fang will be missing, left in the hands of a wildly curious, dream-eyed Arab boy, who will pick up English like a starving man picks up food, and will cry when the Fighting Fifth gets shipped back to Italy. There will be a black and white photograph tucked into its pages— four soldiers surrounding a tall, fair-haired one with a thin dark-headed boy standing high atop his shoulders, arms raised as if he would fall forward into flight, all smiling.

Peter will carry the journal home in his pocket, all muddy and smoky, all smeared with pencil lead and sweat, bloody fingerprints on a few pages, heavy with a thousand and one thoughts, the unburdening of his heart, all ready to be placed in his brother’s hands.

Peter Pevensie will return like his books, with dirt in the creases, a little worn, a little tattered, a little scarred. But his wise old (kingly) eyes... they shine the same way when he smiles, sun in his golden hair.