#the tenderness. how he waits for her touch and follows her every movement. THE EYE CONTACT!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[bladeofthewest]

Sometimes I felt like we were dancing our way towards something deeper.

[heytheredelulu]

Unbreakable - The After Years

Follow up to Unbreakable, my Bucky Barnes x Reader fic.

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, sexual references

You don’t get pregnant after that first time. You hadn’t been in your fertile window but were still disappointed with your negative test despite knowing it wouldn’t have been positive when you took it.

When your period came, Bucky brought you your favorite snacks, bought you a new fluffy blanket and a pack of ovulation tests that he gave to you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

The first time you got the smiley face on your ovulation test you nearly tackled him when he came through the door that evening, brandishing the test stick at him and peppering kisses on every bare inch of skin you could find.

He made love to you constantly, regardless of where you were in your cycle, just craving the intimacy of being raw inside you, of the feeling of his warm, thick cum spilling within you. He’d rut himself deep into you, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, desperate to be as far in you as he could physically be.

You knew you were pregnant before you even took the test. You’d been cooking dinner and Alpine had hopped onto the counter, craving a good ole head scratch and the idea of cat fur where you were plating your food sent you into a violent gagging fit.

You called Sarah, Sam’s sister and your best friend and she squealed so loud you nearly dropped your phone. She stayed on FaceTime with you while you anxiously took the test, not even needing to wait the full three minutes for the results because you had a blazing positive the moment your urine passed through the window. You made her promise not to speak a word of it to Sam before you had the chance to tell Bucky.

He could sense something was up the moment he got home. His enhanced senses followed your strange new scent into the living room and when his eyes met yours, he knew- he knew you were carrying his child. Tears brimmed his lower lids the second you stood up and he pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you fiercely as he cried tears of joy.

Bucky was attentive and overly protective of you l you anyways and once you were pregnant he became over the top to say the least. He doted on you constantly, always asking, “Are you feeling okay, Angel?” “Have you eaten today?” “What can I get you?” Sam and Sarah always teased him, saying he would treat you as if you were made of glass.

He accompanied you to every appointment, his foot tapping anxiously before every ultrasound, his eyes wet with tears every time he had the opportunity to see the small little movements on the screen, every time he heard the fast paced thump thump thump of his baby’s heartbeat inside your womb.

The first time he felt her kick- his daughter- his flesh hand was resting affectionately against the swell of your abdomen, where it lay almost any chance he had. You’d been watching a movie, lounged on the couch together with Alpine curled in his lap. The tiny flutter against his palm drew a sharp gasp from his chest, his eyes wide as he whispered in a voice of disbelief, “Angel, I felt her. She’s kicking. She’s kicking, isn’t she?”

Bucky was the first to buy things for his baby girl. He constantly came home with outfits, bows and blankets, excitedly showing you what he’d picked out. Anytime a package arrive in the mail you knew it was something else he’d bought for your daughter, spending entirely too much time online shopping once he’d figured out how to navigate Amazon.

You’d painted the nursery together, laughing and teasing him once you’d finished and he began attempting to put together the crib. The instructions ended up crumpled in a ball as he wiped sweat off his forehead, motherfucking the pieces laid out on the floor in front of him. Once he’d finally conquered ‘the damn thing’ you kissed him deeply as you admired the nursery, the kiss quickly becoming gentle touches and heavy breathing until you made love on the soft carpeted floor. He took his time exploring every inch of your body, his thrusts careful, slow and sensual as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

Your water broke late in the evening, while he was drawing you a bath to soak your sore back and swollen ankles. Bucky raced around the house in a panic, passing the hospital bag several times while looking for it as you watched with an amused smirk. “Baby, take a breath.” You told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Your labor was long and hours blurred together amidst the pain and anxiety but Bucky never left your side. He held your hand, pushed your hair off your forehead and whispered words of praise and encouragement against your ear as he kissed your temple. At one point he climbed into the bed with you, settling his powerful frame behind you as he drew you to his broad chest, holding you against him as you labored until it was time to push. Fortunately you didn’t have to push for long before the tiny cry echoed through the room, choked sobs of joy and relief bubbling up from your chest as you slumped back against your weeping husband.

Once you were comfortable, your small, perfect daughter resting against your chest, Bucky headed out into the waiting room with wet cheeks and a proud grin. “Winnifred. Winnifred Natasha Barnes.” He told Sam and Sarah as they stood up excitedly to hug him after having waited for hours for her arrival.

Winnie was a daddy’s girl and she had Bucky wrapped around her finger from the first moment he held her. She looked like you, with his blue eyes and his dark hair and you frequently argued playfully over whose nose she had. Named affectionately after his mother and your fallen friend and teammate, as she grew into her toddler years she definitely gave you both a run for your money as she perfectly emulated Natasha’s fiery personality.

Bucky couldn’t have been more wrong in his fear of being a father. He was the most attentive and loving dad you’d ever seen and you often found yourself lingering in the doorway at night, your heart swelling with love at the sight of the two of them curled up in the rocking chair after having fallen asleep mid bedtime story.

Bucky loved being a father so much that shortly after Winnie’s third birthday you were pregnant a second time. A boy, much to Bucky’s excitement. He would daydream about playing catch with him, teaching him how to fix up the motorcycle- all while he braided Winnie’s hair and chased her around the yard.

It wasn’t more than a year after Steven Samuel Barnes was born that you became pregnant for a third and final time. Your second son, Anthony ‘Tony’ James Barnes being the final and beautiful piece to complete the family you’d only ever dreamed of.

Winnie was the first to find out about who her dad used to be. She was 14 and had come home from school in tears over the cruel things a particular little shit of a classmate had told her. Before you sat her down to tell her everything, you had pulled Bucky into your bedroom, cupping his face with your hands. “Unbreakable.” You reminded him softly, until he nodded, eyes closed with a shaky breath.

It was easier to show Winnie who her dad really was. You took her to the Smithsonian, walking alongside her through the Captain America exhibit, until she stopped wide-eyed in front of the large picture of her father. The panel detailed his service in the 107th, his capture in Azzano and the heroic actions that took place during his time alongside Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos before the tragic fall in 1945 from the train in the Alps. Once she’d had the chance to absorb her dad’s incredible feats, he took her for a long walk along the shore where he told her his story, in his own words- beginning with his time under HYDRA. He told her fond memories of his years in Wakanda, mentioning how incredibly badass the Dora Milaje are and that she would love Ayo, Okye and Shuri and perhaps one day she could meet them. He explained the blip, how he’d fought alongside so many heroes in order to save the Earth from the Mad Titan Thanos and fondly recalled Steve and Tony- her smile widening into a grin as she made the connection to her younger brothers’ names. He ended his story with you- how you met, how he fell in love with you and how you saved him. He told her how you made him a better man, helped him overcome his darkness and how she, his beautiful, resilient, first born child reminds him everyday that everything he had been through was worth it when he saw her smile.

Winnie got detention the next day for foul language. The principal called home to report that when she’d been arguing with a classmate she’d said- and I quote- “My dad saved the fucking planet, Jessica. Your dad’s screwing his secretary.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @wintrsoldrluvr @terry2227

[vanteguccir]

let’s get horny?! don’t mind if i do 🥰🤭

i need chris to come and ruin me while he calls me his pretty girl

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb of Chris ruining you while calling you his pretty girl

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her heart racing as she looked up at Chris. His eyes were dark with desire, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of her so surrendered.

Without a word, he reached out, pulling her up roughly by her chin and crashing his lips onto hers. The kiss was urgent and hungry, and she could feel the raw need in every movement. His hands roamed her body, sliding beneath the thin fabric of her - his - shirt to caress her skin. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed closer.

Chris broke the kiss, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered.

"Lie back."

She complied, her body trembling with anticipation as she lay back on the bed. Chris followed, his weight pressing down on her in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and safe. His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

He reached the neckline of her shirt, his fingers hooking beneath it to yank it down, exposing her boobs to his hungry gaze. His mouth descended on one nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before he sucked hard, drawing a gasp from her lips. His hand moved to the other breast, kneading it roughly as his mouth continued its assault.

"You're so beautiful." He muttered against her skin, his voice rough with need. "So pretty. My pretty girl, yeah?"

Y/N arched into him, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he lavished attention on her breasts.

"Chris, please." She whimpered, her voice trembling with desire.

He lifted his head, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Please, what?" He demanded, his hand sliding down her body to the waistband of her panties.

"Please, I need you." She pleaded, her hips lifting to meet his touch.

Chris's smirk deepened as he ripped her lace panties off, tossing them aside. He pressed a finger against her slick folds, groaning at how wet she was for him.

"You need me here?" He asked, his voice a low growl as he teased her entrance.

"Yes." She breathed, her body arching off the bed in desperation. "Please, Chris."

He didn't make her wait. He thrust two fingers inside her, his touch rough and demanding. Y/N cried out, her body writhing beneath him as he pumped his fingers in and out, hitting all the right spots. His thumb found her clit, rubbing hard circles that had her seeing stars.

"You're so wet for me." He growled, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you know how much I love making you feel this way? Huh, pretty?"

She could only moan in response, her body trembling with the intensity of his touch. Chris's fingers worked her relentlessly, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She clutched at the sheets, her body on fire as he drove her towards release.

"Chris, I'm going to-" She gasped, her voice breaking as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out his name, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.

Chris didn't stop. He continued to finger her, his thumb pressing hard against her clit as he extended her orgasm. Y/N's mind went blank, her body consumed by the waves of ecstasy that seemed to go on forever.

When she finally came down from her high, Chris withdrew his fingers, his touch gentle as he caressed her trembling body. He kissed her hard, his lips a demanding contrast to the tenderness of his touch.

"Are you ready for more?" He asked, his voice a seductive whisper as he positioned himself between her legs.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her body already responding to the promise in his eyes.

"Yes." She breathed, her voice barely audible. "Please."

Chris's smirk was predatory as he positioned himself at her entrance, his gaze locked on hers.

"You're mine." He growled as he thrust into her just at the right pace, filling her completely. "Only mine, pretty girl."

Y/N cried out, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts hard and relentless. He filled her completely, each movement sending waves of pleasure through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her heels against his ass, pulling him deeper, needing more of him.

Chris's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more demanding.

"You're so fucking tight." He groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Y' feel so good."

She could only moan in response, her body writhing beneath him as he took her higher and higher. His hand moved between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

"Chris, I can't-" She gasped, her body trembling on the edge of another release.

"Yes, you can." He growled, his voice a low, seductive command. "Come for me, pretty girl."

His words were her undoing. With a loud and almost pornographic moan, she came again, her body convulsing around him as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Chris's thrusts became erratic, his own orgasm following hers as he buried himself deep inside her, his groan of pleasure echoing in the room.

They collapsed together, their bodies entwined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Chris held her close, his hand gently stroking her hair as they basked in the afterglow of their intense lovemaking.

"You're amazing." He murmured, his voice full of love and admiration. "My pretty girl."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with love for the man who had just made her feel more alive than ever.

"My pretty boy."

I wrote this with a shitty migraine, so I'm sorry if it's not that good :(

[demoniofleur10]

Dom!Giyuu x fem!reader

Giyuu had been away for several days, tasked with a perilous mission that demanded every ounce of his strength and skill. Despite the constant danger, the one thing that never left his mind was his wife, waiting anxiously for him at home. She was his guiding light, his anchor in a world fraught with violence. Every time he faced an enemy or found himself on the brink of exhaustion, it was thoughts of her that pulled him through. In those moments when death seemed certain, the image of her left behind, waiting, gave him the strength to continue fighting. He couldn't allow himself to perish, not when she was counting on his return.

When the mission was finally over, and Giyuu returned to the safety of the Demon Slayer Corps, Oyakata-sama granted him a week's leave—a chance to rest and recover both physically and mentally. The time off was a rare luxury, and Giyuu planned to savor every moment of it with his beloved wife, Y/n. She had always known how to ease his mind, her presence alone being a source of peace. Sensing the strain he had been under, Y/n suggested they spend the day at a bathhouse, where he could relax and leave the burdens of the world behind for a little while. She envisioned a serene afternoon together, followed by a quiet walk home under the stars once night had fallen.

Though Giyuu agreed with her idea, there was a sense of unease that lingered. Despite the promise of a restful day, his instincts as a Hashira never wavered. "I’ll bring my katana," he said, his voice firm but gentle, as if to reassure her. Y/n understood. While he longed for peace, the world they lived in was unpredictable, and Giyuu had seen too much to let his guard down entirely. They would enjoy their time together, but always with the knowledge that danger could strike at any moment, especially under the cover of night.

The thought of spending the day with her, however, filled Giyuu with a quiet joy. He cherished these rare moments of normalcy, where they could simply be husband and wife, away from the battlefield.

—•☆■☆•—

They arrived at the bathhouse late in the morning, the air still crisp with the fading remnants of dawn. Giyuu had made the thoughtful decision to reserve a private bathing area for just the two of them. The idea of sharing such an intimate space with others, with his wife exposed and vulnerable, unsettled him more than he liked to admit. He wanted this time to be just for them, undisturbed by wandering eyes or strangers infringing on their peace.

To his dismay, the bathhouse was bustling with activity, the noise of conversations and footsteps echoing through the halls. Yet, a sense of relief washed over him knowing that he had planned ahead. The privacy he had secured now felt more precious than ever, a sanctuary away from the chaos where he and Y/n could enjoy each other’s company without interruption.

As they stepped into their secluded bath area, Giyuu was the first to sink into the steaming water. The warmth was soothing, easing the tension that had been knotted in his muscles from days of fighting. His mind, however, was far from at ease. His thoughts were a swirl of anticipation as he waited for Y/n to join him. When she finally did, the effect on him was immediate and profound.

The sight of her moving gracefully toward the bath stole the breath from his lungs. It had been so long since he’d been able to enjoy these simple, intimate moments with her. The mission had kept him away not only from her presence but from her soft, tender touch��something he craved more than he realized until now. As she stepped into the water, her movements were fluid, her hips swaying with a natural grace that made his heart race.

She settled beside him with a smile, her expression so serene and innocent, as if none of this affected her the way it did him. Giyuu, on the other hand, was struggling to maintain his composure. His throat felt dry, and his body tensed in a way that had nothing to do with battle fatigue. His fingers twitched, aching to reach out and pull her into his arms, to feel the softness of her skin against his once more. The thought of claiming her, of leaving a mark so she would never have to be alone again, stirred something deep inside him.

"Should I help you relieve some of that stress?" Y/n’s soft voice cut through the quiet, drawing Giyuu’s attention from the thoughts swirling in his mind. He had been lost in his own head, the heat of the bath doing little to ease the tension that clung to him. But the sound of her voice was enough to pull him back to the present, and the question she posed sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through his veins.

He turned his head slightly, meeting her curious gaze. The innocent tilt of her head, the way her eyes sparkled with concern, only deepened the fire simmering inside him. "How would you do that?" he asked, his voice low and thick with unspoken need. He knew well enough what she meant—likely offering a gentle massage to soothe his aching muscles—but that wasn’t what he wanted. He craved something more, something only she could give him, something to remind him of how alive he felt in her presence.

Y/n, unaware of the storm brewing within him, smiled softly. "I could massage your shoulders," she started, her voice sweet and soothing as she leaned a little closer. But before she could finish, her words were silenced by the sudden press of his lips against hers.

The kiss was unexpected, fierce, and full of the pent-up longing that had been building inside Giyuu since the moment they entered the bath together. His lips moved against hers with an urgency that left her breathless, his tongue brushing across her lips, demanding entry. Y/n let out a quiet hum of surprise, her body responding instinctively as her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands moved of their own accord, slipping around his neck and pulling him closer, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of being even an inch away from him.

His hands found her waist, the warmth of her bare skin sending a jolt of heat through him. He pulled her against him, his fingers tightening around her as if afraid she might disappear. The sensation of her soft curves pressed against him only fueled the fire inside, and he deepened the kiss, pouring all of the desire, relief, and love he felt into it.

Y/n’s heart raced in her chest, her body melting into his embrace. The intensity of his kiss, the way his hands gripped her as if she were his lifeline, stirred something deep inside her. She hadn’t realized how much he had missed her, how much he needed her, until now. The passion in his touch, the heat in his kiss—it spoke of a longing that went beyond mere words. And she responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair as she gave herself over to the moment, to him.

Giyuu pulled away the moment he felt a gentle push against his shoulder, granting Y/n the space to gasp for air. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, a clear sign of the passion that had ignited between them. She lowered her gaze, her breath still uneven as she tried to compose herself. Giyuu waited, his intense gaze on her, watching as she slowly caught her breath. When she finally looked up at him from beneath her lashes, there was a spark in her eyes—one that mirrored his own desire.

With a shy determination, she rose onto her toes, leaning in to kiss him again. But before she could close the distance, Giyuu took control. He bent down, capturing her lips with a renewed hunger, his tongue slipping past her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. Her muffled moans filled the air as she melted into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his tongue explored her mouth. The kiss was fierce, primal, and it made her body tremble with need.

Y/n’s mind swirled with desire, her body burning with an intense longing to feel him—every inch of him, against her and within her. She needed his touch, his rough, calloused hands on her skin, grounding her in the reality of the moment. His kiss consumed her, overwhelming her senses until tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes, not from sadness, but from the sheer intensity of what she felt. Every time his lips moved against hers, it felt like she was in heaven.

This was a side of Giyuu she had never seen before—a side he had always kept hidden. Normally, he was so careful with her, always gentle, as though he feared hurting her. His touch was soft, restrained, and though she loved him for it, she had always yearned for more. She had wanted him to let go, to lose himself in her, to break the invisible boundaries he had set between them. And today, he finally had. His touch was no longer careful—it was possessive, each caress sending shivers down her spine, awakening sensations she had only dreamed of.

Her breath hitched as his hand moved to cup her breast, his fingers kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip. Her hardened peak was teased, pulled gently, eliciting soft whimpers from her lips as he kissed her with unrelenting passion. The contrast between his rough hands and her soft skin only heightened the experience, making her body burn with need.

She arched into him, her chest pressing against his as if seeking more of his touch, her entire body responding to him in a way that left her head spinning. His touch was electrifying, each movement of his hands making her ache for more. Every kiss, every caress was like fire against her skin, igniting something primal deep within her.

Her hands slid up his chest, fingers brushing over the hard planes of his body as she sought to close the gap between them. She wanted to feel all of him, to lose herself completely in his embrace. Every moment felt like it stretched into eternity, the world outside fading away until nothing remained but the two of them, bound together by the overwhelming desire coursing through their veins.

He pulled away once more, his hands gripping her waist with a firm but gentle hold, lifting her effortlessly from the water and setting her on the platform above. A startled squeak escaped her lips as her wet skin met the cool surface.

"Let me savor you, my love," he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a raw intensity she hadn’t heard before. The sound sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Was this really her Giyuu? His demeanor was different, more primal, as though something inside him had awakened after the mission. Her pulse quickened as her thighs instinctively clenched, only for him to spread them apart with a firm but tender grip, his fingers digging into the softness of her skin.

"N-no, wait!" she stammered, her hand flying to her mouth in a feeble attempt to silence the small gasps and whimpers that threatened to escape. But Giyuu was undeterred. He parted her slick folds with his fingers, spreading her wide before him. "So wet," he growled softly, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger as his tongue darted out to wet his lips in anticipation.

Her breath hitched as he leaned down, planting feather-light kisses down the curve of her stomach, each one igniting sparks of pleasure that made her toes curl. When he reached her most sensitive spot, he paused, teasingly brushing his lips against her swollen clit, a fleeting touch that sent waves of desire surging through her body.

"Giyuu… not here, p-please," she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper as he ignored her plea, his mouth sealing over her folds, dragging his tongue along her slick heat in a languid, torturous rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the slow, deliberate movements making her thighs tremble.

Her hand flew to her mouth once more, muffling the moans that bubbled up uncontrollably. He was relentless, alternating between soft, teasing licks and firmer strokes, his grip on her thighs tightening as he pressed closer. The world around her faded, her senses consumed by him—his touch, his taste, the way his tongue danced against her, coaxing her closer to the edge with every skillful flick and caress.

She felt the coil in her stomach tightening with each expert stroke of his tongue, his mouth and lips working in perfect harmony as he devoured her with an insatiable hunger. He licked and sucked as though he had been starved for ages, ravenous for the taste of her. Her slickness coated his mouth and chin, a messy blend of her arousal and his saliva glistening in the dim light. His sharp nose brushed against her swollen clit with every movement, sending electric jolts of pleasure through her already trembling body.

Each drag of his tongue, each flick against her sensitive folds made her toes curl. Her thoughts became muddled, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through her. She could no longer suppress the moans that slipped freely from her lips, the sound raw and needy as her body surrendered to him. Her back arched off the platform, fingers digging into the surface beneath her as she struggled to ground herself in the overwhelming pleasure.

When he slid two of his thick fingers inside her, curling them just right, it was the final push. Her body convulsed, the knot deep within her snapping with a sudden intensity that took her breath away. A wave of ecstasy crashed over her, her walls pulsing and clenching around his fingers as she came hard, her release coating his fingers and his mouth. The orgasm ripped through her, leaving her breathless, her thighs trembling uncontrollably.

But Giyuu wasn’t finished. Even as she rode out the aftershocks of her climax, he continued his slow, deliberate pace, licking up every drop of her essence as if he couldn’t get enough. His tongue swept over her folds, gathering the remnants of her release, savoring every last bit. His fingers remained inside her, moving in time with his mouth, coaxing out the final tremors of pleasure from her overstimulated body.

Her body jerked from the sensitivity, but he didn’t stop. He lapped at her with long, sensual strokes, pressing soft kisses to her soaked, swollen flesh. Only when he was satisfied did he finally pull away, his lips glistening as he wiped the back of his hand across his chin, a satisfied, almost feral glint in his dark eyes.

“always so sweet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his fingers trailing up her thigh as her chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to catch her breath.

“Now help me relieve my stress,” he murmured, his voice low and husky as he pumped his length a few times, the motion deliberate and slow. With a firm grip, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into the water with ease, her startled gasp filling the steamy air.

"The bath will get dirty, Giyuu!" she whisper-shouted, her voice shaky as she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers. But her words faltered as soon as his thick length dragged along her folds, teasing her entrance. His grip tightened around her waist, arching her back just enough so that he could align himself perfectly. He was in no rush, his movements calculated, driving her closer to him as if wanting to feel every inch of her.

“I don’t care about anyone else,” he growled, his voice taking on a rough, primal edge as his teasing grew more intense. The tip of his cock slid along her slick folds with agonizing precision, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Each pass was perfect, hitting the most sensitive spots just right, pulling sweet, desperate moans from her lips.

“You shouldn’t care either,” he added, his hand drifting down to rest possessively on her stomach, while his other hand gripped her hip with a firm, commanding hold. The possessiveness in his touch sent shivers cascading down her spine, igniting a fire deep within her. His fingers dug into her skin, and the roughness of his hold made her feel completely at his mercy.

He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against her back, his breath warm against her ear. He arched himself, positioning her so that he could wrap his arms around her fully, pulling her impossibly close. He didn’t just want to be inside her—he wanted to feel every part of her, to make her body and soul one with his. He needed her, so deeply that it was as if nothing else in the world mattered.

"Let me give you what you need," he hummed softly, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "And I’ll take what I need." His voice, usually quiet during such moments, was now laced with a feral hunger that sent waves of excitement crashing through her. Giyuu had never been so talkative, so bold, during intimacy. It was as if the mission had awoken something deep inside him, and now he was consumed by a need for her that went beyond words.

“Giyuu… you feel so different, love,” she gasped between breaths, her voice trembling as she felt the thick head of his cock align with her entrance. He nudged his way inside slowly, pushing past her folds with relentless pressure. The stretch of him made her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting in a breathless moan.

“What if someone... comes here?” she gasped, her mind clouded by the sensation of him inching deeper, filling her completely. Her question barely left her lips before he pushed all the way in, leaving her no space to think, let alone speak.

“I’ll kill them,” he growled, the possessiveness in his tone making her body tremble. The very idea of anyone else seeing her like this—so exposed, so intimately his—was enough to make his blood boil. His grip on her hip tightened, his fingers digging deeper into her skin as if claiming her entirely. She was his, and the thought of anyone else laying eyes on her drove him into a darker, more primal place.

With that, Giyuu began to move, thrusting deep and slow at first, savoring every inch of her tight heat. The bathwater rippled around them as his pace grew faster, more forceful, his hips snapping against hers with a growing urgency. His body pressed against hers, their skin slick with water, and she could feel every ridge of his muscles as he moved, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.

His hand slid from her stomach to her breast, cupping it roughly, his thumb teasing her nipple as he continued to drive into her. Each touch, each movement sent her higher and higher, her body arching further into him. The water splashed around them, the air filled with the sound of their wet skin meeting and the breathy moans that fell freely from her lips.

Giyuu buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against her skin as he grunted her name with every thrust. He was relentless, his need for her consuming him, his hands gripping her tighter, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t get enough. He wanted every part of her, and she gave it all to him, surrendering completely to the intensity of his touch, his words, his claim.

“G-Giyuu!” she moaned, her voice trembling as her body tensed, on the brink of another overwhelming wave of pleasure. The way he held her, the way his hips snapped against hers with a fierce rhythm, it was all too much—yet she craved it, her body responding to him with every thrust. His large frame engulfed her, covering her completely as if he wanted to shield her from the rest of the world, to claim her as his in every possible way. She couldn’t stop the torrent of moans spilling from her lips, each one louder than the last, her mind barely able to process the intensity of what she was feeling.

As if sensing how close she was, Giyuu slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate. His cock pressed firmly into her, reaching places that made her toes curl, his length dragging deliciously against her walls. He wanted to make her come first, to feel her shatter around him before he allowed himself to chase his own release. The thought of it—the way her tight, sensitive cunt would grip him as she came—made him almost feral with need. He wanted to use her body in the way she needed, in the way they both wanted. He wanted every man who had ever looked at her to know exactly who she belonged to.

As Giyuu continued to move inside her, his focus was entirely on the sensation of her body wrapped around him, her tight warmth driving him to the edge of madness. But then, he felt something unexpected—her tiny hands gripping his, fingers clutching desperately at his own as if trying to ground herself in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure. Her nails scraped lightly against his skin, leaving faint marks that only spurred him on. Each scratch, each squeeze, sent a new surge of possessiveness through him, reminding him that she was entirely his in this moment.

Her hands trembled as they tried to hold onto him, the strength of her grip faltering with each wave of pleasure that washed over her. Giyuu could feel her fingers clenching tightly around his own, her need for him reflected not only in her moans but in the way she grasped onto him, as if she feared letting go. The sensation of her hands—so small compared to his—grabbing at him, seeking his comfort and his strength, made his heart pound. It wasn’t just the physical connection that drove him wild, but the emotional intimacy of it all.

He shifted his hold, his larger hand wrapping around hers, squeezing back in reassurance. Her touch was frantic, and it only fueled his desire to give her more. Each time her fingers dug into his skin, he thrusted harder, his movements becoming more purposeful. The feeling of her tiny hands holding onto him, so trusting, so vulnerable, made him want to claim her in every way possible.

His hand moved higher, fingers slipping under her chin to cup her jaw, turning her head so she could meet his eyes. The moment her gaze locked with his, he claimed her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth and tangling with hers. The kiss was hungry, possessive, and it broke what little control she had left. Her body quivered, the knot inside her stomach tightening to an unbearable degree as his slow, deliberate thrusts pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Each movement of his cock was deeper than before, hitting her just right, driving her to the brink of madness.

Giyuu’s other hand slid from her hip, wrapping around her waist until his palm rested flat against her stomach, pressing her tightly against him. He wanted to feel her, to feel his own cock inside her, the way her body squeezed him with every thrust. His hand held her there firmly, almost possessively, as he filled her again and again, leaving his mark with each movement. A low groan escaped his throat, muffled against her lips as he kissed her harder, his control slipping.

She could feel the tension building inside her, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as the pressure became too much. Her moans were now muffled by his kiss, but her body told the story—her trembling thighs, the way her walls clenched around him, the tears of pleasure that began to slip down her cheeks. His hand cupping her jaw felt those tears, and he pulled back just enough to watch them fall, his dark eyes filled with something dangerous, something possessive.

He loved seeing her like this, so lost in the pleasure he gave her that she had no control left. It fueled him, drove him wild, the power he held over her body making him lose whatever restraint he had left. His once slow, deliberate pace turned frenzied as he snapped his hips against hers again, harder and faster, chasing his own release now. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the air, mingling with the wet, sinful sounds of his cock plunging into her again and again.

“Let go for me,” he growled against her lips, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

With a few more hard thrusts, her body gave in, the tight knot inside her snapping as she screamed his name, her walls clenching violently around him. She came hard, her entire body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over her, her slickness coating him, making every thrust that followed impossibly smooth.

Giyuu groaned low in his throat, the sensation of her orgasm pushing him over the edge. He slammed into her one last time, burying himself deep as his own climax tore through him, filling her with his release. His grip on her tightened, holding her flush against him as they both rode out the aftershocks of their intense pleasure, their breaths ragged and bodies trembling.

“I love you so much, my love,” he murmured, placing a tender kiss on her temple. His gaze softened as he took in her tired yet blissful expression, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson from their earlier intimacy.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice barely above a breath as her hand found its way back to his. She rested it on his larger one, which remained possessively wrapped around her waist, grounding her amidst the aftershocks of their passion.

—•☆°♡°☆•—

“I hope you all had a good day!” the waitress chirped, her cheerful demeanor clashing with the heat radiating from her cheeks. She could feel her own face burn with embarrassment as she caught sight of Y/n, who was clutching Giyuu’s haori tightly from behind, her expression a mixture of humiliation and flustered joy.

[kenzirr]

Y/N paced the living room, her mind racing with thoughts of loneliness and frustration. Spencer had been working late for weeks, barely having time for her.

She felt like an afterthought, a distant priority in his life. When he finally walked through the door, looking exhausted but determined, Y/N couldn't hold back anymore.

"Spencer, we need to talk," she began, her voice shaking with pent-up emotion.

Spencer sighed, dropping his bag by the door. "Y/N, can it wait? I'm really tired."

"No, it can't wait!" she snapped. "I'm tired too, tired of feeling like I don't matter to you. You're always at work, and when you're home, it's like you're not even here."

Spencer's eyes flashed with surprise and hurt. "That's not fair, Y/N. You know how demanding my job is."

"I know, but I need you too!" Y/N's voice broke, tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you even love me anymore?"

His response was immediate and fierce. "Of course, I love you! How can you even doubt that?"

The tension between them was electric, a storm ready to break.

Before Y/N could say another word, Spencer closed the distance between them, his lips crashing against hers in a desperate, possessive kiss.

Y/N responded with equal fervor, her hands gripping his shirt as she pressed herself against him. The kiss was rough, raw, and full of the emotions they had both been holding back.

Spencer's hands roamed over her body, pulling her closer, his touch igniting a fire within her. She gasped as he lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom with a determined stride.

The argument, the frustration, the longing-all of it fueled their passion.

Spencer's hands were rough but sure as he stripped her clothes away, his own following suit. They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and desire.

Spencer wasted no time, positioning himself between her legs, his eyes dark with need. He thrust into her with a powerful stroke, eliciting a cry of pleasure from Y/N. Every movement was rough, urgent, and filled with the intensity of their pent-up emotions.

Y/N's nails dug into his back as he drove into her, her body arching to meet his every thrust. "Don't ever doubt my love for you," Spencer growled, his voice low and strained with emotion.

Y/N's response was a moan, her hands gripping his shoulders as he pounded into her. Their pace was relentless, a reflection of the intensity of their feelings. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, building rapidly toward release.

Just as Y/N felt herself nearing the edge, Spencer's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper.

She cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation, her body trembling as she came. But Spencer didn't stop; he continued driving into her, prolonging her orgasm and pushing her into the realm of overstimulation.

"Spencer, I can't... it's too much," she gasped, her body writhing beneath him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "You can take it, Y/N. I need to show you how much you mean to me."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and despite the overwhelming sensations, Y/N found herself surrendering to the intensity.

Spencer's relentless thrusts sent her spiraling into another orgasm, her cries filling the room as she clung to him.

Spencer's own release came

moments later, his body tensing as he buried himself deep inside her, spilling his warmth. He collapsed on top of her, both of them breathless and trembling from the intensity of their encounter.

Breathing heavily, they lay entwined, their bodies spent but their hearts full. Spencer gently brushed a strand of hair from Y/N's face, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to make you feel unloved."

Y/N sighed, resting her head against his chest. "I know. I'm sorry too. I just miss you so much."

Spencer held her close, his touch tender now. "I'll do better. We'll make more time for us. I love you, Y/N."

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of his words wash over her. "I love you too, Spencer. Always."

goodnight everyone

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Nightcall

Gale x F! Tav (named)

PG-13 implied trauma, miscommunication, tenderness, loneliness, love triangle dynamics, touch starved, wandering hands, feelings developing

Gale had been spellbound by her, one of the many in that predicament. He was resigned to his one-sided longing until she sought him out after seeing another...

Masterlist

-

"I'll see you at the party, right?" She smiled, settling down next to him. Wiping her armor.

His heart constricted. Staring at her brilliance.

"Yes." He breathed.

She was a vision, truly. Like her whole body had been dipped in golden light. Long waves of yellow hair, tinged with orange. Olive skin, freckles smattering across her nose. The endless gold hues only broken in her eyes, a hauntingly pale blue, nearly grey.

And of course, the tattoo.

It was naturally what people first saw. Curling geometric patterns from the crest of her hairline to the dip of her neck. As if someone had laid gold foil over her in the most lovingly intricate patterns.

It had stunned him to silence when she had pulled him from that stone, eyes getting lost.

She had waited patiently for his mind to restart, arms crossed, standing feet apart.

Catching, he introduced himself as he had intended. Harnessing enough tact to keep his burning curiosity to himself.

Something he became glad for. As they traveled near every person they met had endless questions. Sometimes full-on strangers walking up and pushing invasive inquiries.

Her answers changed like the wind, though she did have a favorite handful of responses.

"An old sacred elf rite of passage."

"Ah, I spent time on a secluded island. Things get wild."

"All wood elves have tattoos, most of them are in places you can't see."

It was honestly impressive how many quips she had on hand. But she probably had ample practice, given the fade of the tattoo.

Only once did she falter.

When they had met Halsin for the first time, he had done the same hypnotized gaze as Gale had at first. And like for him, she had waited.

The druids eyes seemed to light in recognition.

"A morninglord?"

Her body tensed.

"Pardon?" Her tone was casual, smooth. Betraying the tight muscles in her shoulders.

"A child of Lathander, yes? Or am I mistaken?"

"You are."

The silence that held the air was sharp. She offered no more clarification and continued on to ask about Moonrise.

It had been left at that, though their party exchanged glances.

"Well, now I have more questions." Astarion intoned, side eyeing her as they wandered away to search chests.

"I don't know, Fangs. It's clearly a sore subject, I'd say let it drop." Karlach hushed.

"But don't you want to know?" He retorted, exasperated.

"We all want to know. Whether it's any of our business is an entirely different story." Gale sniped, suddenly feeling protective.

"Oh, boo. Why did I get saddled with the goody two shoes..." He scoffed, walking away exuding haughtiness.

As soon as Astarion was out of earshot Karlach turned to him, fervor in her eyes.

"I really really want to know."

Gale smiled. "Of course you do. There must be a good story there."

The tattoo only aided her pull, a silver tongue and a propensity for persuasion. Everything about her had a magnetic pull. A practiced fluid grace in the way she moved, flowing through the world.

He was genuinely shocked when she said she was a bard.

"Really? I would've pegged you for a cleric, maybe a monk. Bards are usually so..."

"Theatrical?" She smiled, leaning her chin on hand.

"That's a word for it."

It wasn't until he heard her play that he understood.

The way that she leaned into her violin, eyes closed. The pull of her bow a deliberate reverent movement.

Though she would often oblige the frequent more upbeat song requests, whenever he found her playing alone it was always the slower songs. The call of her violin a mournful wail, soaring over him.

People naturally leaned towards her, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

He was no different, but he did try to be an asset. Filling in gaps with his talents as he could find them. Figured if he could make himself at least slightly indispensable, he wouldn't get left behind.

Now, the revelery of the tiefling party in full swing he caught sight of her. Heading towards Astarion, that beckoning look in his eyes. Gale's heart sank, but he couldn't blame her. He was... well, Astarion. All sensuality and enthralling beauty.

When she turned from him as they finished talking, he trailed his eyes along her, smirking.

She headed over to him then, smiling warmly. He tried to hide the strain in his face.

"Hello, Gale." Her low melodic voice played his name like a harp.

"Ah, hello. Busy tonight, I wager?" He immediately winced, his words coming out far more clipped than he intended.

"Possibly, I'm not certain yet. There is someone I would enjoy spending some time with tonight."

"Well, Astarion is a solid pick. A little bitey for my tastes, but don't let me deter you from having fun."

Her head tilted slightly, peering into him.

Feeling like a bug under a magnifying glass, he cleared his throat.

It was unfair how beautiful she was, all dignified sloping lines. A heart shaped face further accentuated by a sharp jaw. Slanted fox eyes. Pouty flushed lips. Nose slightly hooked.

He could see a statue being made in her likeness.

Honestly it made sense for her to be with Astarion, they were both breathtaking.

Such an arresting creature giving someone like him the time of day was frankly silly.

"I could be persuaded otherwise..." She stepped a little closer to him.

Heat rising to his neck, he laughed. Surely he was reading this wrong.

"Oh I'll be here for less intense activities. The orb, you know. Don't let me spoil your fun. Go on, indulge."

She seemed uncertain for a moment but eventually left. Giving him one last look over her shoulder.

A stab of longing struck through him, impaling through his stomach.

Ah, loneliness. That familiar companion.

A book propped on his knee he tried to bury his head in literature, Weaving a light inside the cave of his tent.

It was late, he should get some rest. But yearning was eating his stomach.

How embarrassing, he was far too old to have a crush.

He sighed and shut the book decisively.

"Are you still awake?"

He jumped at her soft voice.

"Aurum? I thought you'd be... uh, indisposed."

The edge of his tent flap lifted and her glacial eyes asked for entry.

"Please, come in." He tried to smother the eagerness in his throat.

She closed the flap and tied it down.

His mouth got dry at that. Further more when he realized she was just draped in a robe.

"I have a strange request, if you'll indulge me."

She sat gracefully on knees across from him. Her long hair loose over her shoulders, falling curtain in front of her as she lowered. The two puncture marks in her neck making his stomach tighten.

Anything. You can ask for anything.

"If I could be of service, I'm more than willing to help."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, possibly reconsidering.

Thoughtlessly he leaned forward, taking her hand. Holding it gently between both of his. Hoping his earnestness reached her.

She seemed to relax then, smiling at him in that serene way that made him feel dizzy.

"Can you hold me for the night?"

He blinked. Shock tore through him.

"Yes! I mean, of course."

She smiled wider at him, hand between his turning, rubbing the thin skin of his wrist with her thumb.

Just that small sensation was sending jolts of pleasure across his body.

"Our vampire friend not one for cuddling I assume?"

He felt like he was already pushing it. But she just laughed.

Gods, it strummed a buzzing joy in his chest whenever he could get her to laugh. The sound like wind chimes.

"No. Certainly not. Honestly, I'm not even sure he likes me at all." She pulled close to him on knees, settling onto his bedroll.

He felt like he was holding his breath, not entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

"Well, he's a damned fool if he couldn't see what he had tonight."

She looked up at him then, eyes wide and vulnerable.

His heart was surely pounding loud enough to hear.

She pulled him down with her. Laying him back, she rested her head on his chest, long legs curling up around his. Slender fingers resting over where the orb lay. A contented sigh left her, and he thought he would melt.

Curling his arm around her back, he took the hand over his heart into his, threading their fingers.

"I knew I picked the right person. You're very good at this." He could hear the smile in her voice.

Now she had a front row seat to his thumping heart. But she only nuzzled down further.

"It's a shock to us both. I am not, ahem, practiced in this."

That was a great understatement.

"I have faith that one day you'll let me give you a compliment." Her voice was hushed, drifting.

He chuckled, pulling her hair away from her face. Fingers brushing over her scalp for a moment.

"Mmm, that's nice." She sighed.

He repeated the motion, encouraged. Carding his fingers gently through her silken hair.

Her breath became slow, evening out.

With a heady shot of accomplishment, he realized she was asleep.

Letting his eyes close he submerged himself in this feeling, in this moment.

Truly, he couldn't have imagined the serenity, the puddling he would've felt here. Her body the perfect weight on his, warming him through like the morning sun. Bliss in its entirety.

She pulled further into him, her leg curling up more. The robe falling back, revealing her bare hip.

He almost reached to pull it back over but was hypnotized again.

The line of her plush thighs flowed into hip, leading up in a mesmerizing arch. Creasing along the joint of her curled leg. A teasing dip inside the arch that would perfectly fit his hand. Like it was designed for that exact purpose.

He was absolutely pushing it, but he was nothing if not ambitious.

He slid the hand holding her back downward. Watching her body closely for any discomfort.

When his hand slid over the exposed skin, he had to bite back a moan. Velvet soft. His fingers couldn't help but splay, spreading to get as much contact as he could fit in his reach.

The sight of his wide hand spread over the curves of her sent him reeling.

Just as he had suspected, he slid his hand into that divot perfectly. Utterly entranced by the sight.

That some part of him could fit into her was inconceivable.

She reached across his chest and wrapped around his ribs. Head pushing up to fold into the curve of his neck. Letting out a sweet little whine. Soft breathing washing over his skin like the tide.

The smell of her hair oils wrapped around his head in a slow haze. Lavender and orange blossom.

Head turning into hers, he started to drift. Before he knew it had fallen into a deep sleep.

Bird song lilting through the air, something roused him. Looking bleary-eyed around his tent. Feeling an absence.

Alone.

Another song hung in the air. A clear bell of a voice rising high above.

Like a siren song, it pulled him from his tent.

It was very early, the sun just peeking over the mountains, world still bathed blue. The rest of the camp snoring.

Following the voice, he came upon Aurum sitting in the grass. Knees together, hands resting on her lap. Something near prayer.

Her head was leaned back, calling out only in high haunting tones. A wordless questioning cry.

It stole his breath away. Spellbound.

Her singing would stop in phrases, as if waiting for a response. Starting the wordless hymn over again.

After a third time, she fell quiet. Head falling forward.

The air felt heavy with loss, her hands opening in her lap.

He stepped back quietly, hand to his chest. A hollow sweeping pain pulling through it.

Returning to camp he started a low fire, putting the kettle over it. Finding his best tea that he had stashed away.

Setting up two cups.

He would have to get used to waking up early.

~

Part 2

[puppyie-innit]

endin of the best worst dream ever ^\\\^

part 1 here!

The small figure lay sprawled across the soft mattress, her body tense but clearly fatigued from her relentless squirming. Her tiny chest rose and fell, quick shallow breaths betraying the emotions stirring beneath the surface. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, whether it was the tickling or the gentle care that followed, but there was something both exhilarating and calming about it all. Her arms rested limply at her sides, fingers still twitching involuntarily as though they were trying to escape the invisible grip of laughter that lingered in her chest. She was spent, and her small form seemed to melt into the warmth of the soft sheets.

The tall figure stood at the edge of the bed, a careful and observant presence. He watched her with a mix of fondness and concern, always attuned to her body language, how it shifted with every slight movement, every tremble that betrayed her exhaustion. His hands hovered near her, not quite reaching out, but staying ready—prepared to hold her still again if need be. He knew her well, knew her limits and how she sometimes needed the extra guidance, the steady hold.

His gaze softened when she let out a small, tired sigh, her body finally relaxing just slightly in the aftermath. But even now, her knees pulled close to her chest instinctively, a small sign of her discomfort in this vulnerability. Her body was a mess of soft, squishy movements, twitching at any touch, even the gentlest ones. He understood. He had designed this for her, after all—a machine meant to bring her laughter, not distress, and he had spent hours carefully calibrating each tool, ensuring that the tickling would never hurt her.

The machine loomed nearby, a curious contraption of soft bristles and dampened cloths, humming softly in the background as it patiently waited for its next phase. The boy took a slow step toward it, his large hands reaching for the small brushes. They were gentle, soft, and the bristles were designed with one purpose: to tease and tickle in a way that wouldn’t cause her pain but would leave her feeling giggly and light. The brushes were fine and flexible, perfect for sweeping over the most sensitive areas of her tiny form—her underarms, her sides, and the tender spots near her tummy.

The machine had been designed with such care: a set of brushes that would glide in tiny circles over her ribs, the softest of feathers teasing the soles of her feet, and a damp cloth meant to caress her face afterward to clean up any trace of the sweat that would bead on her skin. It was gentle, like the boy himself—never forceful, always thoughtful. The machine’s arms would move in a rhythmic fashion, almost as though they too knew when to stop or when to press only a little more, ensuring that she would be held gently in place.

The boy’s fingers brushed through her messy, curly hair, noting how it had knotted during her relentless squirming. He could see the light sheen of sweat that covered her face, a testament to just how much energy she had poured into trying to avoid the inevitable. Yet, there was no fear in her eyes now, no discomfort—just a curious softness that seemed to say that, deep down, she had wanted this. She had wanted to be held, to laugh, to feel the release that only tickling could bring.

His fingers were tender as they smoothed her hair, each stroke slow and calming. The hairbrush in his other hand was soft, its bristles gliding effortlessly through her tangled curls. She shivered slightly at the sensation, the brush making quick work of the knots that had built up during the chaos of it all. Every time she twitched, he’d adjust, making sure she felt cared for in every moment, never forcing her into anything but letting the tickling happen naturally, drawing out that soft, childlike laughter that he cherished.

As he worked, the machine quietly withdrew its tickling tools, the brushes gently retracting, leaving only the damp cloth to make its final pass over her flushed cheeks. The boy’s touch was a constant now—his large hands careful and steady, wiping away the sweat and the exhaustion that clung to her skin. He knew how much it meant for her to feel clean and cared for after all that had happened.

Her body was still—no more squirming, no more twitching. She was utterly exhausted now, the last remnants of the tickling fading away into a feeling of warmth and security. Her small, delicate features were soft with contentment, but there was something deeper—something almost wistful in the way her eyes closed as the cloth moved over her face, like she didn’t want it to end. She had wanted this, she realized now. She had longed for the gentle care, and the soft attention.

The boy continued, never moving too quickly, never rushing. He could see how much it meant to her—how she had given into this moment with him, this playful release. He carefully placed the cloth down and reached for the last tool, a small, soft brush to smooth the last of the tangles from her hair. His movements were almost affectionate now, each one deliberate and gentle, a final act of care. With his free hand, he gave her a few scratches behind both ears, whispering reassurances of how good she was being throughout it all.

In the end, as he set the hairbrush aside and watched her, he knew this wasn’t just about the tickling or the machine he’d built for her. It was about making her feel safe, about holding her through it all, and about giving her something she secretly wished would never end: the feeling of being cared for, loved, and protected, even in her smallest, most vulnerable moments.

And as she drifted, quietly and with a soft, contented sigh, into sleep, the boy watched her, his heart a little lighter for having given her this piece of comfort.

[wiltf]

🔞🔞🔞.

nails curl into scorched brick, where the ash stains her palm as priscilla tries to brace herself. romantic, to think that maybe she was following the lines of the marks, finding safety amongst them. but instead, there was something in the way the wing smeared, hand slipping, as lucanis’ hips moved to meet hers.

cheek to cheek. out the corner of her eye, where everything seems to drip, and it’s a momentary distraction in trying to keep the shape of wings that had been burned into this wall. another time, one where she is not folded over him, his back against the brick. knees pressed against her back, and there’s hardly room for any movement, just priscilla tucked into lucanis, tracing a line from where she had reached as far as she could, to smear ash on his shoulder, now. arms hooked around him, drawing thin lines against his skin that were right at home with every other scar.

priscilla didn’t want to move. she wanted to keep pulling those wings back in, she wanted to kiss him once more (and she does, more than once). her fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, and lucanis tilts his head back — allowing her access to his cheeks, his jaw, his throat. priscilla knew what this meant for him. so her tongue laves his skin, following sweat that pooled at his collarbone.

each twist of her body was enough to perhaps give that little bit of friction between them, dragging a sigh from lucanis. eyes-that-never-closed were seared shut, pink flush high on his cheeks, lips parted. his name on her tongue as she followed the lines of his shoulders, where those wings had once grown from before. if lucanis so much as breathed, it was shallow. if lucanis so much as looked, it was between lashes almost drawn shut. incredible, she whispers, to protests.

finally, they had parted enough for her to lean back, bracing her back against his knees. hands either side of his head, fingers splayed over mortar, following the lines. folded inwards, back that did not appreciate the burn but eyes meeting his, as he truly never stopped watching.

priscilla’s knees groaned at the angle of her movements, but if she spared a thought to them, she would miss lucanis. his hands that cradled her cheeks, that followed down her own sweat-damp skin to neck, shoulders, elbows. wrists. kiss against the inside, where her skin bore lines of grey from the wall.

small of her back, encouraging her.

caging her just as much as she kept him there, against the now slightly smudged brick. if lucanis wished to, he could still watch the door, just in case. always, just in case. but if he was focusing on the door (shut, locked, tightly sealed), it was between quick blinks. tears or sweat, both were salty as priscilla pressed open-mouthed kisses to his skin, catching them before they had a chance to roll past the curve of his cheek.

not so much faster as more desperate, now. trying to find friction against friction, rising up enough to slide her leg back, so that her thighs no longer seared. lucanis’ fingers were quick, measured, calloused. everything was so precise that it might have made her laugh, any other time, were she to spare a thought at how he was a quick study on touching her. tender fingers that were pleasantly rough. priscilla could feel her right leg begin to twitch as lucanis changed the angle of his hand, palm flat while his thumb worked furiously.

she tells him to wait, please, maker, that’s not fair. two could play at that game, were she capable of not focusing on trying to still her leg. left side of his chest, circling his nipple with her nail, while she all but pawed at his sides. sensitivity that came with spending a lifetime expecting death. priscilla had relished discovering how a featherlight touch could draw all kinds of reactions from lucanis, from a respectful cough to the downright—

lewd. that is how her name falls from him. scattered in between puffs of antivan and the way he pulls her against him. lucanis continues to move, continues to hold them so close that were the fade to fracture, then and there, they may mould into one. she clutches him, scratches him, kisses him, the wall no longer a part of this cage, just the way her arms keep lucanis against her. priscilla is weightless, to the stutter of his hips and the blessings and curses that are murmured against her.

priscilla does not go quietly. tomorrow, she may consider the ramifications of such an embrace so close to where they all break bread. but in the wee hours as it may have been, when it was her own fingers trying desperately to tip her over, does the sweat on her own skin cool. no lamplight, no wall. no marks that peppered her dreams for nigh on weeks now. priscilla lay alone on the chaise, candles long since extinguished, and her hand freed from the front of her smalls.

and with mighty effort, does she smack and kick the back of the chaise, until all she can is whisper a small, “shit.”

[zelcii]

Nº1 SWITCHED TMR: BOX

Contents, Next

She was never really fond of the dark.

Steady, metallic clangs echoed down the long concrete tunnel, almost like the drumbeat of a death march.

The girl laid with her knees against her chest, eyes shut tight, willing herself to "wake up" because she just had to be in some terrible dream.

She opened her eyes roughly fifteen minutes ago, gasping for air as she coughed out cool water from her lungs. A remnant of some nightmarish ordeal she had no memory of.

For a while, her blood ran cold.

Her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, her breaths quick and shallow, as if she'd just run a mile.

Her bones felt hollow and brittle as if there were termites inside her, wearing away the marrow.

She felt damp, her hair sticking to her skin with water lodged in her throat. She was in a cage, moving slowly down a long corridor. The sound of harsh metal grated in her ears.

The darkness swallowed her whole and it made no difference whether her eyes were open or closed. All she could see was black.

She could feel the void against her skin. It seeped into her. It made a home in the pits of her stomach.

It was silent except for the roll of wheels that echoed against the cold walls. The air was thick. The smell of rusted iron stung her nose, making it scrunch up.

Usually, when she pulled a face, she could feel how her skin creased. A hand flew up to her face and she pressed her fingers against her temples. Then she swore.

What the fuck.

She called out into the dark. Her voice meek and low.

She stood up slowly, her joints cracking under her weight. She could feel fatigue staining the muscle under her skin and bleeding into her fingertips.

There was a sense of caution sewn into every movement. She shook her head and decided she must have been imagining things.

Then she thought about who she wanted to save her. Family. She had a mom, she was sure. Knowing if she was alive was a different story. She had a father. She wondered if he was in the picture. Did she have siblings? She did.

She wracked her head for an explanation as to why or how she got into this situation, but her mind ran blank. In an eerie run of reflection and as an act of dumb curiosity, her mind wandered to thoughts of home—family.

She slowly started to register that she had one. But she just couldn’t remember. As she tried to grasp onto the tiniest senses of familiarity, they seemed to slip further away from her.

"Nick.." Her voice trailed off as she called out into the dark. The name echoed off the tunnel walls. It grew softer and more distant as it travelled further away. Then it faded into silence. The name slipped past her lips with tender familiarity. The name seemed to be the only thing she could remember but she knew it wasn’t hers. She couldn't even recall knowing anyone named Nick. She waited for a response. None came.

She felt cold and numb. A chilling sensation ran up her spine. She could feel her bones buckle against each other, following the sway of the cage. She instinctively brought her hands up to rub warmth into her arms. As her fingers brushed against her skin, she realised she couldn't feel that either. The texture of her touch was absent. Her blood ran cold. Her mind began to process that she wasn’t imagining anything. She wasn’t going crazy; this was all real. Her breaths drew shallow.

It was like a thin barrier stood between her fingers and skin, stopping her from making any physical connections with herself or the things around her. The strange numbness made her feel more alone in the darkness. That’s when she realised she was laying all her weight behind her on a wall of sorts.

The darkness felt alive. It closed in around her, suffocating and cold. Now she could hear nothing but her own breaths, echoing unnaturally in the dark. Every time she called out, her voice would yell back at her louder. It answered spitefully, taunting and angry.

“CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!?” She yelled this time, her voice trembling. Again, the response was nothing but her own angry voice, followed by an uneasy quiet. Panic started pressing down like a weight on her chest. She heard her voice, she sounded insane. Her heart beat louder, each jump a desperate cry against the invasive silence. She fought the urge to scream, yell, kick and cry.

“Please…” she murmured pathetically, her voice breaking. The plea was a near whine that felt hollow and helpless. The shadows creeped in on her in ways that made her skin crawl, their shapes twisting, morphing, moving. She rubbed her arms, trying to stave off the creeping chill. It was useless. She felt nothing. The cold seeped into her bones. It gnawed at her sanity.

“Nick..” she called out one last time, her breaths shaking. 

“NICK,” she cried out desperately. There was a furrow on her brow. One that she couldn’t feel. Again, there was no answer. No reassuring voice or warm presence to confide in. She was utterly alone. She let it sink in, and then she cursed loudly into the echoey corridor, “SHIT!”

She couldn’t take it anymore. And she couldn’t help the horrifying cry that ripped through her throat. She cried and screamed, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. Strings of words that resembled pleas and begging. This went on until her voice was nothing but a horse, a raspy mess of broken syllables.

Panic welled up inside her. Her mind flooded with frightening, disturbing thoughts. She wanted to feel something. The dig of her nails in the palm of her hands, the wet trails of tears running down her face, the coarse sting in the back of her throat that she must have had after screaming for so long. 

She looked down at her hands. When her gaze hardened, she could make out its organic shape. Her eyes traced every line of movement. Her eyes lingered on the bones that lead to the tips of her fingers. She bit her lip hard—still nothing. 

In a desperate attempt to feel something—anything—she raised a shaky hand to her mouth and let it rest between her front teeth. She tensed. What the hell was she thinking? She yanked her hand from her mouth and let it swing back behind her. She heard the rattle of a box as her hand struck it, but she didn’t feel the impact. 

Her eyes were vacant and her head stayed empty. She was losing her mind. Again, she swung her hand back into the box. Nothing. With as much strength as she could muster, she struck the box. Nothing. 

She was tired, frustrated and horrified. Then without a second thought, her hand flew up and the girl bit down on her thumb. She heard the unsettling crunch of bone, flesh, and nails between her teeth.

She awaited a sharp sting. Still, she felt nothing. 

“What the fuck…” A hapless ache of misery surged through her. Then she bit down even harder, desperate to break through the numbness. Overwhelmed, she stumbled backwards into a wooden mass. She whimpered as she cradled her hand with tears streaming down her face.

Slowly, she noticed a warm, sticky feeling spreading down her hand. Then a similar feeling came out of the corner of her mouth.

First, she felt her blood running down her hand. Then a sharp pain shot through her arm, eliciting from her a strained, guttural moan that broke in and out as her voice scraped against her throat. 

She could imagine the blood trickling from her thumb, flowing down her arm, and staining her skin—pooling in her palm. The image was horrifying and the pain was surreal.

She curled into herself, cradling her injured thumb as she cried out a series of strong swears. The pain in her thumb never subsided, though her senses slowly returned. It started from her hands, then spread to the tips of her ears in curious waves. 

Her lungs itched from within. A sensation no amount of coughing could relieve. Then an ache began to throb at the back of her head and in her throat. She could feel the sting of meshed metal digging into her sides and biting into her skin.

It reminded her of the sting she would feel sitting in a grocery cart, wheels rolling beneath her as her mother pushed her down long, endless aisles. For a moment, she felt calm. She fought hard to forget about the searing pain in her hands. That comfort quickly faded as she tried to recall details about her mother, her family, and what she could have looked like. She shivered when her mind could only flood with blank faces, devoid of features. 

She felt disturbingly incomplete.

The last thing to fill her senses was the soft cluck of chickens from a nearby corner. Fear and fright churned in her empty stomach, fueling her doubts with resentment. She had no recollection of anything before the rust, the darkness, and the persistent pain in her arm.

As the cage suddenly came to a stop, a dim light filtered into her space. Faint glimmers danced over her surroundings. She was lured into a cold vent that led to even colder heights. She forced herself to look down as the floor got further away. She tried counting the metres to measure just to see how far she was from solid ground. But when she looked down, there was no floor. She was never on solid ground.

She sat paralyzed in the middle of the cage. Her vision was growing blurry, and she had reason to suspect it was due to her increasing blood loss. She kept her hands to herself, afraid to lose them if she let her arms stray too far. Her clothes were heavy against her skin. 

With nothing but the clucking of chickens and the pain in her hand to keep her company, she sat there, soaked in her own blood as a dim light forced her to watch the blood trickle from her hands, into her clothes and on the meshed floor below her. 

In the dim light, she scanned her surroundings and spotted dozens of boxes and barrels encircling her. Each one was labelled with the letters W, I, C, K, E, and D. 

Above her, bright red lights flickered ominously, casting a taunting glow. She sat in the rising cage, alone with her thoughts, for what felt like hours. 

A sudden jolt of the cage made her gasp, and she tightened her grip on herself, sending a sharp pang up her arm. The girl winced.

The sound of metal ticking and rattling sent a chill through her spine. Though she knew she was alone, she couldn't shake the creeping feeling that something was watching her from behind.

Then, once again, everything went black.

Contents, Next

[headstrongblake]

[ SHOULDER ]: sender presses a tender kiss to the receiver’s shoulder while spooning. /kass&nick / @thewholecrew

this december everything's different, and yet, too much of the same. a heaviness weighs nick's shoulders down, that ugly dark cloud looming as the snow settles once more. too much death encompasses this month but perhaps more than anything, the mere thought that they could have all lost kassy keeps nick restless. even as he slips out of his boots at the door, exhaustion evident in his slowed movements and darkened circles beneath his eyes. he could have lost her by being nearly too late.

it's late, but he finds kassy in more or less the same spot he has since she moved into his home. especially when she waits up for him at night. moving here had been for her safety he had said. just until she finds somewhere else. some new building that could offer her a fresh start after her vile stalker made hers out of the question. but a small part had hoped with having kassy by his side, just like after the kidnapping, he'd be able to find moments of peace. with kassy, there are some without question. but this month makes everything harder, even as he tries to put it all aside. lock it away in a box for another time because kassy is where his focus should be.

"you look as beautiful as you do tired," nick said, offering her his hand and a tired smirk that paled in comparison to his usual demeanour. "did i wake you?" the question comes out like second nature, despite the same answer he gets every time. a part of him waiting for the night she feels safe enough again to be asleep by the time he comes home from the club.

like a well-rehearsed routine he's fallen into with kassy around these past few weeks, he lets her lead the way to his bedroom while he follows behind, locking and ensuring the house is secure before retreating into the master room with her. for a while he disappears into the ensuite to ready himself for bed against all the aching muscles in his body that scream at him to simply collapse in the sheets.

after slipping into joggers and discarding his shirt in the bin, nick eagerly sunk into his bed. every day there seems something in his home changes ( even though kassy had decorated his home to begin with ) and as he wraps his arms around a newly added pillow, burying his face against it, tonight he appreciates all her added touches. her light touch against his bare skin as her arms smoothed around him sent delightful shivers across his skin. god, he wants tonight to be one of the nights he's allowed peace. she's safe, he thinks, breathing in kassy's jasmine shampoo. her body presses against his and her arms are coiled around him keeping them together. she's safe, he reminds himself as he lets out his breath.

nick fights the urge to turn to her, to cast his tired gaze over her so she's the very last memory he has as he drifts off to sleep because maybe then her light will break through all the darkness his mind threatens to drown him with. but kassy counters, doing one better. her soft lips pressed against his shoulder as her steady breaths lingered there. "g'night sweetheart," he murmured in the dark, his hand wrapping around hers as he brought it up to his lips. after pressing a quick kiss near her thumb, he relaxed into the pillow once more, keeping her close with her hand hugged to his chest. both of them clinging to each other protectively.

as nick slowly drifted towards sleep, the last thought that circled his mind was; how was he ever supposed to watch her move out?

[twilightichor]

𖧷 @jueying asked: "People watching yet again, Lady Hsi?" The slightest tilt to his voice echoed the amusement held in the minuscule crinkle in the corners of his eyes. The gaze of a high elder was meant to be all seeing, all understanding, and all mysterious to those around them at times - but Jinhsi's gaze could not be more apparent to him. Elegant and beautiful in all her emotions and reactions, he couldn't help noticing how she seemed to linger on various couples in various stages of their relationships. The Luofu remained a comfortable climate throughout the year, but when the air adjusted to a slightly cooler temperature, so began the leisurely outings and walks. Dan Feng himself could not say he was immune to such callings either, having invited the other out for one today.

Tilting his head slightly in wait for an answer to his question, deft fingers gently took one of her hands into his own. Dropping a kiss to the back of her hand seemed to be a gesture she enjoyed and one he liked to see the reaction to, Dan Feng today seeking out more beyond that. Delicately, he turned her hand to face her palm to the skies, pressing a light kiss to the lithe bones of her wrist. "Perhaps something to share?"

[ wrist ] a tender kiss on the inside of the partner's wrist

For all the homogeneity within the Xianzhou society, built as it is from various species, there is an unspoken hierarchy and varying degrees of pride that must be upheld within the same species. For the High Elders of the Vidyadhara race, this stands at its truest. As they are scions of a long gone Aeon that met a tragic end of being encompassed within another that is the first and foremost enemy of the Alliance, their cooperation with Xianzhou inestimable enough to have earned an indomitable reputation that is more a burden to many than a blessing.

Hsī knows all well about this as a human herself educated and instructed to be the prominent figure that High Elders are amongst everyone —is she supposed to be a player in this stage or a pawn?—, and with it comes a yearning perhaps difficult to understand among the Vidyadhara. Even with her upbringing, she can suppress it for as long until it hits like a wave that came unprovoked and uninvited.

Which manifests through silent observations of others' demeanors in public, most of them humans themselves, every time she's out for a stroll alone or in Dan Feng's company. This time, the surge of longing comes as they walk side by side, her arm coiled around his own as they use to whenever they walk long distances— used more for its pragmatism, Hsī was never blind to the proximity and warmth born from a natural closeness they have nurtured for several years.

Deep and calm as the sea the Vidyadhara are tasked to protect as his voice is, the question suffices to make her snap out of her reverie and startle slightly, argent irises peering into the other's teal ones for some moments. The easiest for her would be to deny it, yet she knows that it is abundantly clear that his question is nigh a rhetorical one. Thus her arm falls from his, almost out of shame for even looking into someone else's garden when she should be happy with what she has, a small hum and a dip of her head offered in answer to his question.

Precisely because she has been raised among other Vidyadhara as if she were one herself, she should know that the manners they express love is different than how humans do. And she does— she knew the moment the two of them expressed sentiments that go beyond that of mere friendship for one another, and she was overjoyed at the notion that Dan Feng of all people, knowing his story and having lived great part of it with it, harbored such feelings. The inevitability of a human heart that wants more is, essentially, what makes her feel as if she doesn't deserve this— him.

Moon-touched eyes move immediately to their connected hands now, following their movement up to Dan Feng's lips to press a chaste kiss to the dainty bones of her inner wrist. Different shades of pink dust her pale cheeks for a few moments before the bridge of her nose scrunches a touch when a realization dawns on her. ◜You tease.◞ She counters back, a small pout on her lips as she elbows him gently.

It is precisely that Dan Feng is comfortable at his best within her presence that he allows himself to be this way— an expression of deep trust and love.

Her pout deflates soon as she rests her head on his shoulder, her heart now more at ease albeit slightly troubled still. ◜Have you...◞ She needs a moment to pause and swallow thickly as nervousness settles itself at her gut, but she presses on. ◜Have you ever felt like you want more but you see yourself unable to pursue it? Not because you cannot recognize what it is that you yearn, but because of a matter of circumstances.◞ It only takes a couple of seconds before she shakes her head slightly against his arm, then she raises slightly on her tippy toes to place her lips on his cheek in a chaste kiss before she goes back to her initial position.

◜Please don't mind that question. Just some musings of mine, it's all.◞

[loveshard]

which bedroom wasn't a completely valid question to ask. the answer was obvious for the two of them. while stephen's bedroom has gotten much more guest-friendly since their relationship developed into something more, there was still two playful feline friends who’d been home alone all day and a messy bed that was not fit for their vigorous activities. still, a small smile and a nod in response was appropriate. the suggestion coming from her made the request simple to follow, but any motion to move was caught off by a strangled moan, her urgency absolutely intoxicating. and if she kept grinding against him in the middle of the room for a couple more minutes—houston, they will have a problem. tilting his face down, his lips brushed against hers in a ghost of a kiss to divert the attention from his neck, teasing just to make her want it more. “here on out, no more games, okay?” he whispered against her lips, his breath mingling with hers, eyes hooded as he looked at her. then he kissed her—fully, deeply, with all the passion that had been building up between them. it was hungry and demanding, his hand sliding up her back, pressing her closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

without true sight, he clumsily guided her towards their destination, his lips never leaving hers, hands grasping their ass, fondling her through her jeans, giving her no choice but to follow his lead. they bumped into a few items along the way, even tripping on his shoes carelessly forgotten in the middle of the living room, prompting a chuckle released in between. eventually, child-like laughter and roaming hands got them into the bedroom with minimal damage, kicking the bedroom door closed behind them with his foot. he eased her down onto the mattress with purpose, breaking for breath before he leaned over her as his hand slid up her thigh, lips finding home once again.

the kiss started tender, soft, but his impatience got the best of him, single-handedly unfastening her jeans with a deftness only he could pull off, just enough to slip his hand inside, curling within, needing every bit of her right then and there. he moved with her, his other hand cradling her face as he drove his body down against her, every movement meant to show her just how much he needed her, just how much he desired her. he whispered her name between kisses, a breathless mix of affection and desire, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of the moment. skylar was everything, and stephen wanted to make sure she knew that—wanted to make sure she felt adored in every single touch. after a few long moments, he pulled back, his breathing heavy, and he looked down at her with a crooked smile, his thumb brushing along her lower lip. “why are you still dressed?” he teased, his voice warm, a hint of laughter in his eyes, as if he wasn’t the one ambushing her. stephen didn’t wait for an answer, though—assisting his girlfriend with their clothes, hoodie over head and shirt on the floor, the first of many to be hastily thrown into a heap behind them. hungry for more, he pulled her against him, her bare skin warm against his chest. “no time limits, just us, remember?”

sky hated how insatiable she felt when it came down to it. hated how the moment he looked at her, asking her, calling her baby — she felt her knees go weak. she let out a little whimper as their lips brushed, because of course she wanted him alone. of course, she needed him. all that was on her mind was stephen, them, the things they could do. her steps were hurried as they walked in. she had to focus on how she ran up the stairs to avoid falling because she kept looking back at him. could feel how wet she'd become, inner thighs sliding together because she had made the somehow stupid and amazing decision to not wear underwear.

she yelped as he pulled her in, but didn't fight back. kept her eyes on his, every passing second making her feel like his gaze was sucking her in. she was trapped, but it was exactly where she wanted to be. "home." she nodded mindlessly, mouth agape. his touch fizzled into her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, which she arched right into. oh my god, he's so hot. skylar whined, hands around weaving around his back, grasping at the fabric of his sweater. he's so hot, and he's all her's. she responded eagerly to his kiss, mouth opening as if to offer space for his tongue, body going pliant to how he held her firm into the wall. her gasps were muffled by their kissing, even if the sound of their smacking lips made her want to combust. she was weak for him, would let him do anything right now. stephen pulled back and she couldn't help but chase his lips again, blinking at him all betrayed, but she had limited movement like this.

"i- i don't know-" her lower lip trembled, the way she throbbed was starting to hurt. for all she cared, he could take her right then, against the wall. loved when he pinned her against a surface, didn't let her escape until she was writhing and begging for him. but she was also painfully aware that they had a roommate who was tired of their shit, and she'd rather not have him be privy to more what was supposed to be just between her and stephen. still, she could feel the impression of him — so hot and hard, pressing tight against her inner thigh, causing her brain to short-circuit. "mine," she spat out, only because she spotted her door in the corner of her eye, only because it was the closest from where they stood. "quick-" she whispered, lips pressing hurried kisses into his neck, hips grinding into him out of desperation. "quick, stephie."

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

[witch-hazels-musings]

Until you are safe

Warning: Vision Hunt Decree still in effect, kidnapped themes, reader grabbed by hair (Thoma), possessive themes (scara)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Albedo, Scara, Thoma, Zhongli

Albedo

The frosty chill of the mountain side was more than you could bear. Every time you thought you gained warmth it was ripped from your body by icy hands threatening to drive you insane. You shivered and wrapped your coat further around your body while you scowled against the frigid cold. 

Ahead of you stood Albedo who seemed indifferent to the temperature and while you were impressed that he knew how to handle this without any complaints, you were also irritated by the fact. He was barely wearing anything and here you were shivering under countless layers of cloth. 

He turned to tell you something but with the turbulent winds and nibbling frost against your ears, you didn’t understand a single word he said. Quickly, you forced your legs to move as you made your way to his side.

“W-w-what di-did you s-say?” Your chattering teeth made it hard, and painful, to speak but you did your best anyway. 

“We are nearly there, can you keep going?” He narrowed his eyes at you but you knew that was a common thing he did. It was unlikely to have any additional meaning behind it. 

“H-how f-f-f-ar?” 

“Just around the bend.” He rested the back of his hand against your cheek and somehow that made you shiver even more than the touch of frost. When you nodded and began to walk forward, he took up position behind you and directed you toward the camp. 

With the cave blocking out the wind, and several warming mechanisms already glowing, you stumbled your way in between them an the fire. Trembling hands extended toward the orange and yellow light while you watched the snow drip from your clothes. 

“I always h-hat-te this p-p-part.” You complained, shaking your head and shoulders to warm up the muscles. This wasn’t the first time you traveled to Dragonspine with Albedo, but each time you braved the conditions you recalled the promise you made yourself last time. Never again, well ... I guess that promise was made to be broken. 

“Here, this will help warm you.” He handed you a cup and immediately you caught the scent of fresh and soothing tea. The aroma itself perked you up and even though your fingers were still stiff, you graciously took the offering. Warmth seeped into your throat as the liquid carved a path down your esophagus and into the pit of your baron stomach. With a refreshing hum you smiled through the steam.  

“P-p-perfect. Thank-k y-you.” Another sip warmed your lips and tickled your nose but you didn’t dare stop. 

“This trip should be less strenuous than last time.” Albedo began, his back turned to you as he rummaged through the stacks of books. “Where did I place that ... perhaps it got caught in the wind, that would be unfortunate.” 

You giggled, eyes watching him meander and speak to himself all at the same time. He had a habit of doing it but it never bothered you, in fact it was comforting to hear his voice, stabilizing, grounding. 

“You ca-can head out. I’ll b-be fine here after I w-warm up-p.” The shivering had eased, but you still succumbed to the residual affects as your body began to shift from frozen to thawed. 

“No need, I can wait here for a while.” 

“Haha, that’s silly, g-go on ahead.” You took another sip of the cup and found yourself sad at the emptiness of it. That’s when a hand entered your field of vision and you watched Albedo walk toward a table, refill your drink, and return to your side. He offered it to you and when your fingers found the circumference his nestled against them.

“Until I know you are safe, I will be here.” His eyes held your own for a while as if waiting for your reaction, your response, and when you nodded he mimicked your action before slipping back toward the bookshelves and research table. 

You were glad he left you, because if he hadn’t you were sure the only way to cool down was to step beyond the barrier of the cave and into the never-ending snowstorm that protected Dragonspine. 

Scara

Being at the side of a Harbinger had it’s own trials. If it wasn’t the constant movement between assignments or the threats against your life, it was the loneliness which creeped in every single day. There were some Harbingers who left the life of love far outside of their reach: Signora, who vowed to never love again and instead put all her attention into fulfilling her duty, Childe, found love a difficult thing to ignore and did his best to keep what he cherished hidden behind closed doors. 

Scara, he never understood the meaning of the word until it crashed around him like a house crumbles into itself, and the way he kept his belongings safe was to have them near him at all times. It was far better to be under the watchful eyes of his competence than leave something so valuable in the hands of another. So, here you were, following him around and staying hidden until he called for you. 

-- 

The room was empty, absent of all the things you would have normally kept to make this place more homey. If you could get away with it, you’d have made some changes to the décor, but the problem with never settling in one place for long made this desire of yours difficult to accomplish. It wasn’t feasible, you thought to yourself  but that didn’t stop you from adding a bit of comfort when you could. 

The night came and went without issue and after you prepared yourself for bed you wondered where your lover was. Was he succeeding, was he accomplishing his goals, would he return to you tonight or would you wake up alone yet again. Luckily for you, you had learn to be patient. 

Your dreams kept you occupied but there seemed to be something about them that pulled you toward consciousness, a subtle wish drifting across your imagines to wake up. 

Something brushed across your cheek, but was it the dream or reality, you couldn’t tell. Gravity pulled you close to something sturdy, but was it a creation of your imagination or the real thing - why was this so challenging. When your eyes finally opened and adjusted to the light of the room, you realized what had been calling to you. 

“Scara?” You pulled your hand down from behind the pillow, the muscles tense from being locked into that position for so long. “What has-” 

“Go back to sleep.” He spoke and the sound of his voice pulled you closer to him. 

“Is everything okay?” You continued your question as if what he said was never uttered, your eyes trying to find the outline of his frame while your skin adjusted to his touch. 

“Nothing to concern yourself with, just sleep.” 

“But, why are you here?

“I don’t recall needing your permission to do anything.” His words may have been direct, but you could sense there was something else behind them. 

“... would you ... like to come to bed?” 

“I can’t.” He adjusted and you felt the warmth of the blankets cover more of your exposed skin. The chill of the evening became blocked by the sheets and you hummed in response. You were confused, but the feeling of his hand running along your neck, your jaw, and into your hair made all the questions you had disappear. Moments like these brought out something completely different in the Harbinger and you wondered why he treated you so differently. 

With a yawn, you turned into his touch, lips finding the palm of his hand easily and placing a tender kiss against his skin. “You don’t need to stay if you have work to do. I’ll be fine.” You hummed again as he thumb ran over your lips and the gentle pull of sleep began to find you. It was quiet for a while and you focused on the warmth, the closeness, the comfort he provided until you practically melted into the bed. 

“I can’t do that either.” Scara whispered, hand pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer to your face. “Not until you are safe,” He breathed in your scent, gazing down at your trusting form beneath him. “Even from me.” He spoke as his fingers curled into the sheets and before he lost himself in you, he slipped from your bedroom and made his way down the hall. 

Thoma

He ran so fast as soon as the news reached him. The weight of his feet as he dashed through the countryside grew with every passing second but there was nothing more painful than his clenching heart and anxious thoughts. 

What have they done, am I to late, please don’t be too late. He wracked his brain over and over again, blamed himself for the stupidity of leaving you. If he had been there would the outcome be different? If he had stayed, would he have been able to fend off their attack enough to get you to safety. How foolish of him for thinking they wouldn’t use dirty tricks like this to accomplish their goals. 

Rumors and intel began to swirl like wildfire and at this point he couldn’t differentiate the accuracy of it all. There was one thing he knew for certain, the vision hunters had you and he was going to get you back. 

-- 

Their campsite was simple and you wondered if they would really be able to escort all of these prisoners back to the city on their own. They were intimidating enough to keep most insurrection at bay, but you were not about to let them get away with this. After a quick analysis of your surroundings, you found a few potential options worth trying, now it was only a matter of timing. 

“You won’t get away with this!” Someone shouted next to you and you patiently waited for an opportunity. 

“Shut up.” A soldier barked, his dismissive attitude apparent from the lack of eye contact and the wave of his hand. 

“This is wrong and you know it! Do you think you’re immune to the decree, when the day come to hand over your vision will you?!” 

The soldier turned and made his way through the trembling captured, you used the scuffling of those trying to get out of his way as an excuse to move closer to your escape. The dirt scraped against your bound hands and pulled at your clothes, but you didn’t care because each inch you gained the closer you got to freedom. 

You watched the soldier lift the woman from the ground, his impressive height apparent as she dangled above the well worn soil. “I will do what is necessary for the Raiden Shogun. I am bound by honor, unlike the resistance.” 

“Honor! You know nothing of it. Put me down you brute.” She spat in his face and he reacted in kind. You hated the fact that you were using her as your distraction, but hopefully if this all worked out in the end freedom would be enough compensation for her bruised face. Your fingers brushed against a metal handle, the sword you were aiming for had been reached and you quickly worked to get yourself free from the bindings.

The loosening rope told you of your success but when your hand wrapped around the hilt of the weapon and you moved to stand, a sudden pain against your head made your vision go blurry. 

“What do you think you are doing?!” Shouted a voice near your ear. They were so loud that you shrunk away from it only to be yanked right back. “You think you could take on all of us? Are you stupid.” 

“I didn’t think so.” You wheezed, blinking harshly to try and bring your vision back to clarity. 

“Well let me help you understand.” He drug you away from the group but before you could take but a few steps, an intense groan blasted it’s way near you and the hand that held your hair fell away in an instant. 

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked, hands finding your waist to steady you. It was like your eyes snapped back on because as soon as you turned your head, you found Thoma standing their with an expression you’d never seen before: fury. 

“I’m - ouch - okay.” You whispered and then you realized the implications of him being there. Turning, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed against him, your voice turned tense as you shouted. “Ge-get out of here! What if they catch you!?” 

“I’m not leaving.” 

“Thoma!” 

He looked down at you, his arm tightening around you and you swore the world shifted red and the screaming soldiers shouts became muffled. “Until I know you are safe, I’m not leaving.” He looked forward and the glint of his polearm caught your attention. “Now hold on, okay.” 

The dry landscape turned into a wildfire until only what Thoma wanted to remain, remained. 

Zhongli

“This is very kind of you, Zhongli. To walk me home.” You chuckled, gazing up at him as you made your way down the path and toward the city. It wasn’t uncommon for Zhongli to escort you from place to place, but tonight you would have assumed he would stay on the Pearl and continue his lively conversation. 

“It is no trouble at all, to allow you to walk by yourself would not sit well with me.” Zhongli commented matter-of-factly, his eyes closing as he nodded his head and gazed up toward the stars. 

“You were having such a nice time, know that I didn’t mean to bring that too a close.” You scratched your forehead and adjusted your clothes after climbing the stairs from the docks. It was a rather pleasant night, but it usually was in Liyue this time of year. 

“I would never insinuate you had ill intentions. I made this decision on my own, to escort you is no trouble at all.” 

“Yes, well, that’s very kind of you Zhongli.” The lights of the festival swayed in the wind. To you they looked like fireflies in the sky, but that was such a silly thought you kept it to yourself. “I think I can manage on my own, if you want to go back?” 

“Nonsense, I will stay until I know you are safe.” He glanced down at you and offered you a smile, one that spoke true and gave you the impression of ‘I will not be swayed.’ 

“Well, thank you.” You turned away from him in hopes that he wouldn’t notice the embarrassment you were sure shined in your eyes and flashed across your expression. How can someone so regal find your company enjoyable at all - but Zhongli was so kind to anyone you fought against your better judgement to believe this gesture was more than common courtesy of a gentleman.

“It is my pleasure. Did you have an enjoyable time?” He asked, head examining the city streets and decorations as you had earlier. 

“Oh yes! Thank you for inviting me, I’ve never attended something so high class.” You fussed at your outfit again, it was apparent you weren’t used to wearing something like this but you did your best to fit in and not insult the guest who invited you to join him. 

“I am delighted to hear. It is far better to enjoy ones time when in company you relish, don’t you agree?” 

“Absolutely!” For a while, the two of you discussed the highlights and lowlights of the gathering. The sound of your laughter and excitement caught the attention of late night patrons, but you didn’t mind because it also caught the attention of the one you wanted the most. 

It wasn’t until you neared your home that the conversation began to drift. Your heart was sad that the night was coming to a close but responsibilities held you to a tight schedule, even if you felt the itch to break them. 

“Thank you again, Zhongli. This night will be one I remember for a while.” Your nails had received a break all evening, but, now that you were about to be alone, they felt the dig of your nervous habits once again. 

“It was my pleasure, it is always a gift to spend the evening with you.” He bowed, his long hair slipping over his shoulder at the motion. 

“I tend to agree with you.” Chuckling, you moved to unlock your door and when you looked back to Zhongli, his face was illuminated by the sparkling lanterns and yellow glow of the city. No matter what he did he radiated colors you’d never fully understand. 

“Liyue has many festivals,” He began, his tone wistful, “though I must say the ones where lanterns adorn the city are my favorite. Do you not think they look like fireflies in the distance?” He asked, gazing up at a few that dangled across the bridges and walkways that lined the city. 

“Yeah, actually I do.” You whispered as your eyes fell onto the man you loved so much it hurt to look at him, but, if it meant you could capture even a hint of his existence in your memory, you would happily suffer this pain. 

[traekenimagines]

Hunting Season, Unseen: A Theo Raeken Imagine

So below the cut, there will some parts of Hunting Season that didn’t quite make it to full imagines. There will be a heading above each snippet so you can skip past anything you don’t want to read, but to warn you guys, I’m just going to provide a list here of what to expect:

Mutual Masturbation, Tit-fucking, Over-stimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Come-play, Anal/Ass-play, Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-fucking,Thigh-riding, and some other bog-standard smutty stuff. 

Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x 

Mutual Masturbation

Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off Theo’s hand pumping at his cock, couldn’t stop listening to the moans that escaped his mouth. The sight only spurred her on as she curled her fingers inside her core, picturing it was him doing this to her as her teeth found her bottom lip. “Fuck Theo, I’m going to come.”

She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t far off, his movements speeding up as he worked at himself. There was a knot building in her stomach, and she slid her fingers out of her core as it unravelled, letting the essence of her release drip down her legs. 

At the sight of her, Theo swore, growling as his cock twitched and he came in his hand. Both were breathless, both aroused only by the sight of the other coming undone, fucking themselves with as much vigour as they would had they been doing those things to each other. 

Y/N lay back on the bed and listened to the sound of Theo’s footsteps as he made his way over to her. She spread her legs, eyes closed in bliss as she felt his cock at her entrance. 

Tit-Fucking

Y/N circled her nipples with her thumbs as she held them against Theo’s cock, the chimera fucking the valley between her breasts as if it were her core. She was wet, soaked at her core at the image before her, and she couldn’t wait until that cock was buried deep inside of her. But she could feel the tip of Theo’s cock against her neck as he fucked her tits, her nipples hardening with each hiss of breath he let escape. 

“Are you going to come, baby? Are you going to come all over my tits?” She could feel him hardening, wanted him to have his release anywhere he liked. “Come all over me baby.”

Theo’s cock slipped from between Y/N’s breasts, his hand wrapping around it before he pumped it a few times. Y/N giggled as his release landed on her breasts, the warmth of it familiar. Her nipples were still hard, something Theo had clearly noted as he leaned down, mouth enveloping each as he cleaned her with his tongue. Y/N moaned, a sound that only intensified when Theo kissed her, and she could taste him on her tongue. 

She had done that to him, and it was power unlike anything she had ever felt. 

Over-Stimulation

“You’re so fucking sensitive, princess.” 

If Y/N had been able to talk, she would have told Theo that the reason she was so sensitive was because of him. She’d had his fingers inside of her, his tongue, every toy they owned, some she didn’t even remember buying. And he hadn’t let her come. 

She knew all it would take was for him to thrust his cock into her and she would explode. It was bad enough trying to hold it in now as his fingers brushed over her tender folds, her core pulsing with the need to come. But as it was, she couldn’t talk, so just whined, bucking her hips against his hands. 

“So fucking sensitive.” Theo chuckled. He shifted, positioning his cock at her entrance. Y/N opened her legs wider, and Theo seized an opportunity. “Tell me how much you need it, Y/N. Beg for it.”

“Please, Theo.” She shifted. “Just give it to me. Just fuck me. I’m so fucking sensitive, and I need your fucking cock inside of me.”

When the tip of Theo’s cock entered her, Y/N lost the ability to breathe. She could feel her wetness growing, could feel the product of an early release pulse from her core. She arched her back as he entered her to the hilt, screaming when she finally let go. 

Multiple Orgasms

“That’s it, baby. Just let go.” Theo was on his knees, Y/N on his lap, slowly moving herself up and down his cock. He had already come inside of her, his hand on the small of her back, his lips on her neck. He could feel her hands on the back of his neck, and he leaned up and kissed her as she continued to move. 

She had followed not long after her, and Theo had expected her to climb off him. But she had stayed, continuing to move. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he came again too, but he didn’t care. Not when all he wanted was for Y/N to find her satisfaction. 

“Need more of you,” she mumbled against his lips. “Need your cock in me all the time.”

“I know, baby, I know.” Theo sucked on her tongue, and felt Y/N’s grip on the back of his neck tighten. “Come on, Y/N. It’s okay.” She clenched around him, head thrown back as she came over him again. And still she continued to move. 

“Are you - are you going to come again?” She asked him, words not coming too easily. “I want you to come again.” She sped up in her movements, rotating her hips around him. Theo felt himself tense. 

“I’m coming again, baby.” His release was accompanied by a sloppy kiss, before he mouthed at Y/N’s cheek, tasting the sweat that had gathered on her skin. He looked up at her, and she was smiling. “How was that?”

“So,” she moaned between words, the sign of another release building, “so good. You’re so good.”

“And so are you, baby. So are you.”

Come-Play

Y/N stood, and Theo smirked as he saw how shaky she was. He had done that to her, had fucked her hard just like last time. He had promised her that she wouldn’t be able to walk, that she would stink of him and would have a hard time hiding it from her friends. 

He could see his come dripping down her legs, expecting her to wipe it away, expecting her to throw a hateful glare at him as she had the last time. But instead, it was if she hadn’t even noticed it, noticed him, and it bugged him. So he climbed across the bed, and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

She tensed at his touch, at the two fingers that slid up the inside of her thigh. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” Theo’s teeth caught her earlobe as he trailed his fingers through the line of his come, rubbing it back into her core. She leaned back into him, moaning. “Does that feel good, Y/N? Having my come in you? Taste it, taste my come and yours together.”

Y/N took his two fingers into her mouth, and Theo almost lost his nerve. Before he showed any sign of weakness, he removed his fingers, letting Y/N speak. “Tastes so good. I love your come, Theo. I want it all over me.”

Theo smirked. “Well, that can be arranged.”

Anal/Ass-Play

Y/N was on all fours, waiting eagerly for whatever Theo was going to do. She moaned as he spread her ass cheeks, muttering to her about all the plans he had for her. She whined when, without warning, he thrust her finger into her asshole, curling it inside of her. “God, this is tight, Y/N. I think we might have to loosen this up a little.”

He replaced his finger with his tongue, swirling it around. Y/N could feel the wetness from her core growing, knowing that it would have to wait. Theo would fuck her somewhere else first, and she looked forward to it. She pressed her ass against his face as Theo continued to eat at her hole, his mouth enveloping over it. She felt desperate for him, for this something new, to arrive, and let out a squeal as Theo drew his face back from her. 

“You ready for this baby?” He placed one hand on the small of her back, the other positioning his cock at the entrance of her ass. The tip brushed her ever so slightly, and Y/N let out a breathy yes. 

Her eyes watered when Theo entered her. He was so big, and she so tight. But as Theo stretched her out, she found herself finding the pleasure beyond the pain, and it wasn’t long before she was screaming in delight. 

“I’m going to come Y/N, I’m going to come in your ass.” Gone was Theo’s tenderness, his concern. His animalistic desire was only present and Y/N couldn’t contain her glee when she felt his release in her. When it was over, Theo rested his head against the small of her back, pressing a kiss against a tender ass cheek. 

Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-Fucking

Y/N was so peaceful when she slept, Theo decided. But he was bored, and he wanted her awake. It was only natural then, that he lay on his side, head at her legs. He move them apart gently, revealing her bare core to him. She shifted slightly as he licked up the centre of her folds, and he smirked against her when she moaned. 

She was waking up, slowly, and in the best possible way. Theo set to work, properly this time. 

He lapped at her core, taking her clit into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement, but didn’t acknowledge Y/N yet. He would do so with arrogance when she came, he would do so - oh. 

Y/N was certainly awake. Theo knew that much with his cock in her mouth. With each bob of her head as she took him whole, Theo pushed his tongue in and out of her core, her wetness making his erection grow. 

He could feel himself on the edge of release, could feel that Y/N was there too. The peaceful morning atmosphere was soon shattered by the orgasmic cries of the two, each with their lips coated in the essence of the other. Theo lifted his head, looked at Y/N with her head still by his cock. She kissed the tip of it. “Good morning.”

Thigh-Riding

The feel of Theo’s jeans beneath her core was too much for Y/N. He had turned down sex, claiming that he was too busy, so she had taken things into her own hands, not giving him the chance to complain when she straddled his leg, naked, in the hope that he would fuck her. 

Instead, he had told her to get herself off, so she chose to do exactly that. 

As she moved against him, she could see the outline of Theo’s erection against the material. But he was still choosing to ignore her, pretending as if she wasn’t even there. So she moaned louder as she rode his thigh, moving faster, hand accidentally brushing his cock. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Theo’s hands flew to his jeans, and Y/N smirked as he unbuttoned them and pulled his cock out. She got the hint, moving from his thigh, denim coated in her essence and sunk onto him. 

Now this, this was what she wanted. And as Theo fucked her, she knew it was worth the wait. 

And Finally...

Theo’s lips were at Y/N’s cheek, his hand on her neck. They were both on their knees, and Y/N wrapped her hand around to tangle in Theo’s hair as he thrust into her. Neither could speak, all dirty talk having fled from their minds. 

It had been a long time since they had been together like this, Theo having come back from the dead only recently. It had taken a matter of moments to rid each other of clothing, to tumble back into bed, each of their movements meaning the same thing. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Y/N had forgotten what it felt like to be with Theo, to have his cock buried inside her, stretching her out, making her feel a release unlike any other. She moaned as he thrust into her from behind, his grip on her neck tightening ever so slightly. Theo regained his breath just so to talk to her, his lips against her cheek. “Does that feel good, princess? I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“So good, don’t ever leave me again.” 

Theo’s cock tensed inside of her, and Y/N joined him as the two reached their satisfaction. 

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of doing so. I love you, Y/N.”

Hunting Season Masterlist

Masterlist

[zeestarfishalien]

[Haha... I wrote a thing. I'm so sorry]

Content Warning: Unreliable Narrator, Child Endangerment (fictional)

It doesn’t matter how much he improves or what he achieves, Danyal will never be enough. Even at the tender age of 10, he knows this. Yet all it takes for him to melt into Mother’s touch is one softly crooned, “habibi.”

Love is a lie, a tool used to manipulate others into doing what you desire them to do. Danyal knows this too, but he wants to believe the lie. Just for a little bit. For what will likely be his last hours on this earth, his life given in service of the Demon Head’s Heir.

None of the clones are anywhere near ready enough for this. Not a one could pass for 10 year-old Damian al Ghul. Even if they had been big enough to pass for him in looks, none would hold skill anywhere near the necessary amount to be mistaken for him in a fight.

Is it a bad thing that Danyal is just a little happy about that? He’s the only one worthy enough to go through this farce with Mother, to receive her soft words and even softer touch.

He’s a little happy.

The conditions they’re traveling in are harsh. It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before and they have to make their act convincing; a mother trying to protect her son at all costs.

He sleeps in the special colored contacts. It doesn’t matter if they damage his eyes (more proof that Mother doesn’t actually care about him), their lie is more important.

~*~

Blackberry brambles snag at his clothes, costing him precious milliseconds.

“Habibi, hurry!” At Mother’s words he shoves down the burning weight on his lungs and pushes faster. He’s forgotten what it’s like for his muscles not to burn with fatigue. He keeps pace at her heels as they sprint through the damp and darkening forest of the Pacific Northwest. There’s a boat waiting for them, if they can make it to the beach. Half of Mother’s guard is trying to distract and mislead the assassins after them, the other half keep pace in the trees around them.

The underbrush is thick and it’s difficult for someone as small as Danyal to shove through. He goes under it just as often as he goes over. It’s wet, it hasn’t rained recently, it’s just the fog off the sea settling into dew on every branch and leaf. It’s becoming harder and harder to track which of the footsteps are Mother’s guard and which are assassins closing in for the kill.

There’s something…

He dives through a hole in the underbrush on his right, likely made by wildlife, and nearly tumbles into a small ravine. Water cuts through the dirt and rock, trickling towards the ocean with great determination. He hates the way he scrabbles in some vain attempt to climb back up to safety (Mother). There’s no safety.

A shadow appears in his way. Throwing himself back, he falls nearly ten feet before catching himself on a fallen tree. Well, less catching himself and more breaking his momentum slightly. His next leap is slightly more controlled, still fleeing further down the ravine. (If he follows this, he’ll still reach the ocean. Hopefully mother will wait at least a few moments for him to catch up.)

The terrain here is worse than above, but it is also harder for an adult to chase him through. He is smaller and can slip through narrower gaps and under fallen trees. He is faster here than others would be. He can hear them crashing through the terrain behind him. He hopes they break their ankles.

But no, it’s a branch breaking under his foot that sends him tumbling into damp moss covered rocks. He’s clawing his way free even before the pain can hit. He doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want to die… His arm screams at him with every small movement he makes. He can’t stop. He won’t stop. There’s sand smeared on his face with the blood. He has to be close!

Shoving a branch of some big fern out of his way, he’s faced with only open air. In his attempt to stumble back from the edge, his foot slips and he’s free falling towards a pool of water.

He has just enough time to curl into a ball and cover his neck before he slams into something thicker than water.

“I’m obviously the better twin.”

“He’s obviously the better twin.”

Their combined words echoed across the cave far longer in the silence that followed their words than it felt like it should have. It was difficult to tell if any of the other bats and birds were even breathing.

A frown marred Damian’s face, despite having said the same harsh words as his twin. Danny saying the very same words left a sort of bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn’t even the words themselves but more the resignation and dismissal of his own worth that ate at Damian’s gut. Someone stabbing him would have hurt less than Danny’s next words.

“You don’t need someone like me. I’m not motivated enough and all that to be like you guys. I’d just get in the way.”

Dick, ever the one to try to find compromise, spoke up. “There’s more ways to help than just fighting…”

“Listen,” Danny interrupted, “it’s not like I’m dumb but I’m not a genius like you all. I suck at strategy and sitting around on my hands, the only thing I’m really good at is being cannon fodder or a distraction. I’m not competitive or ambitious and I’m certainly not about to start trying to be any of that. That ship has sailed and sunk.”

“Danny, I-“

“It’s fine Damian.” His bitter smile contradicted the words. “It’s important to know one’s own strengths and weaknesses, right?”