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changbunnies · 27 days ago

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Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading.

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically.

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see.

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely.

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him.

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read!

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken.

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful!

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t.

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind.

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there.

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue.

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you.

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!”

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before.

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even.

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained.

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house.

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances.

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world?

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone.

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!”

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips.

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least.

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that.

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now.

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him.

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller.

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath.

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you.

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before.

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you.

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.”

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him.

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day.

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror.

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you.

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all.

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body.

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist.

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it.

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling.

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it.

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock.

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away.

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right.

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release.

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.”

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky.

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer.

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs.

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them.

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away.

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening.

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems.

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz fanfic #changbin fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #kinktober fic and yet i once again wrote more plot than porn. yeah it's fine what's new #but also the me who thought she could write something short and plot-free for binnie was so funny. like who do you think you are?

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jjsgirly · 2 months ago

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can't outdo the doer … exbf!rafe cameron ! 18+, mdni. ༄.°

"rayyy," you called out to your ex-boyfriend as you ascended up the stairs of tannyhill, away from the loud music downstairs and the drunken teens dancing, speech slurred.

you trailed down the hallway with a lopsided, drunken grin and towards rafe's bedroom door, coming to a stop once you reached it and grabbed the knob, swinging it open with a second thought.

"ray, i—" you started but quickly closed your mouth as soon as your eyes landed on the obscene scene before you, half-lidded eyes widening.

some girl arched over, her face pressed directly into the mattress of rafe's bed as he was behind her, balls deep inside of her, his large hand gripping at the back of her head, driving his cock into her with no remorse, groaning with pinched brows, both their bodies covered in a sheen layer of sweat, and you could hear cries of pleasure muffled into the sheets.

you stood there in the doorway watching, your eyes focused on the girl rather than rafe, though that changed as soon as he lifted his head up from her form beneath him, a smarmy smile spreading across his handsome features as he gazed at you smugly, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

"look, baby," he crooned condescendingly as he harshly pulled the girl's head back so she could look up, her face fucked out with a dazed expression and drool dribbling down her chin as she looked over at you. "we have a guest, huh? a lil' voyeur. say hi, why don't you?"

the girl let out a whimper in response before rafe pushed her head back down, fucking into her with sharp, harsh thrusts, her body slipping down the mattress with each deep pump, her hands gripping onto the sheets like a lifeline.

the dirty-blond continued to stare at you, his arrogant smirk still present. "cute, isn't she? came tumblin' into my arms, drunk and ditzy, thought i'd fuck her into the mattress," he chuckled, his words heavy with haughtiness with you knowing they meant absolutely nothing; he was doing this in an attempt to mess with you, like the bastard he was.

but even so, you couldn't help but smirk, and you watched with a glint in your eyes as you watched his expression falter for a split second, his smirk thinning out just a bit.

moving your hand away from the doorknob, you used your foot to close it and approached the end of the bed, where the girl's front half was positioned, and looked down at her, reaching your hand out to lift her head up with a gentle touch.

she looked up at you, mouth agape from the way rafe was drilling into her, eyes watery, red, and puffy from having been crying, her entire face flushed with a cute pink color. you almost felt a bit bad, knowing how rough rafe could be in bed; she was probably exhausted and sore, but you knew he wouldn't stop fucking her until he was finished.

you dropped her head and lifted your gaze to meet the blues of his eyes, darkened with insolence, and simply laughed in his face, causing his cocky expression to fall, replaced with a look of scorn, a vein popping in his forehead.

"she looks like me, don't she?" you hummed and watched as the dirty-blond's lips parted a bit, hearing a high-pitched whine escape the girl's lips as you assumed he dug into her harder, the sounds of his thrusts getting a bit louder, along with the creaking of the bedsprings.

it was true, she did look a lot like you, down to the way your face would scrunch up in pleasure whenever rafe fucked you nice and deep, hitting that gooey spot inside of you with every pump of his cock, kissing your cervix, just as you assumed he was doing with her.

you drifted from the end of the bed and stalked closer to rafe, coming around to the side of the bed and tilting your chin up slightly at him, leaning in close to him, his eyes trained on you like a predator's, watching his prey intently.

"did you think i wouldn't notice?" you questioned him demeaningly, bringing a hand up to grasp onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side, feeling how it hardened in your hold, his teeth gritting together, more deplorable sounds being pulled from the girl beneath him.

"that's cute, ray. are you also gonna call out my name when you come inside of her?" the words slipped from your lips with mockery, a sneer gracing them as you let go and backed away, swearing that you saw him chase after you for a moment before huffing out a breath, like he was fighting with himself.

with a small snigger, you stepped away and back towards the door, giving a small wave with a feigned reply of politeness, "have fun," before opening it and slipping back out into the hallway, closing the door with a quiet click.

you listened, the noises of bed rocking increasing with cries of rafe's name and degrading words, along with a few smacks, until you heard it with a victorious grin plastered across your face—your name falling from your ex-boyfriend's lips with a hint of a pleading whimper.

likes, comments, & reblogs are very much appreciated. ♡

#⚓︎┆𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 #⤿ exbf!rafe cameron #jjsgirly #guys idk the plot im sorry #was listening to chase atlantic and this came to mind #also rushed ending :((#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx

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thesunisatangerine · 1 year ago

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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: implied sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 2.5k

You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed.

Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.

“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.

“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.

You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”

Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale.

Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.

Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate.

Unsurprisingly, logic won out.

“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.

“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed.

“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”

There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”

“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips.

You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”

Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…

“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.

“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”

Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”

“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”

“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow.

“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”

“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”

He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”

“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”

At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?”

Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”

At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold.

“When did this happen?”

“Early morning today in our timezone.”

“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”

“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”

“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”

“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”

“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.

“I’ll cover it, Derek.”

“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”

“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”

“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–”

“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.”

“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”

“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”

“I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out.

It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.

“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”

Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?

You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.

You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.

“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?

“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.

“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her.

For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.

“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”

“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”

“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”

“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.”

“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”

“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.

“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.

She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.

“–what do you have in mind?”

You blinked. “What?”

Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”

Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue. That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”

You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder.

“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold.

Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: introduced some fictional characters here for plot purposes and there'll be more later on (i hope that wont put off some people)#i tried not to info-dump but not really sure if i succeeded lol #also i find it difficult to write smut and its even harder without talking about feelings so nothing yet folks im so sorry #and idk when the next part will come out cause its one of the parts that arent fleshed out but ill try to finish it by next week #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

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mrzombielover · 9 months ago

Text

- slow ride ch2

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter (wip)

warnings: NSFW, more substance use in this one, a bit of angst?, readers emotional issues

a/n: i feel like my writing sucks esp in this chapter cause im sorta rusty and sick so i cant even tell if this makes sense but oh well😭😭😭 anyway pls send me hazbin reqs!!!!! having the worst brainrot lately esp for this horrible man!!!

wc: 2.9k

“I'm not breaking up inside / I'm much to proud to moan / Baby, please come home”

Oh my god. What did I just do? Why did I do this?

You turn your head to look at Adam where he’s lying on the other side of the bed, and find his expression closely mirrors your own. Pure disbelief is written on his features, and you grimace, turning to look back at the ceiling.

After a moment, you sit up, grabbing your box of cigarettes and a lighter off your bedside table. Once lit, you swing your feet off the bed to reach for shirt and now ripped panties, standing up when you’re partially dressed. You hear Adam sit up behind you.

“Soo, that was… uhhh…” He trails off, mouth hanging open as he thinks of what to say.

“Let’s… not speak about this again,” You say carefully as you turn back to face him.

“Yeah. yeah, i’m good with that,” He says quickly, finding his robes off the floor. You’re surprised he doesn’t say anything about the smoke.

You cross the room to get your pants off the floor, pulling them up as Adam grabs his jacket. You pull up your fly, and look up to see Adam’s staring at you with an expression you can’t read. His eyes flicker to your lips, and he starts to lean closer.

“Kiss me and i’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out,” you say as you turn your head away.

“Oookay then. I’ll, uh, see ya,” For once, he has no snarky comment or crude joke to make as he straightens up and leaves your room.

After that, you told yourself never again. It happened once, it’s out of your system, it’s done. A one time thing.

But then it happens a second time.

“It’s a disgusting habit! All your clothes, your whole room fuckin’ reeks!”

“Are you tryin’ to get me to loose my temper here? ‘Cause i’m about to shove you out that fucking window!”

“And look how angry you get, you fucking fiend, it’s been like 2 hours!”

“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business?”

You raise an arm to hit him, but he catches your elbow, twisting you around so your back is to him and he can hold you in place. You struggle to break from his grip, when suddenly-

“Oh my god,” You deadpan, but your voice doesn’t come out as disgusted as you expected at the feeling of something hard poking into your lower back.

“Okay, this is not my fault-“ Adam says quickly.

“You- fucking perv!” You spit, but your words hold no weight when he flips you again and lifts you up, placing you on the counter and you make no effort to struggle. You spread your legs so he can slot between them as items pushed out of the way cascade off the counter, falling to the floor with loud crashes.

You then told yourself that would be the last time. But not even you fully believed yourself. And once it happened a third, fourth, and fifth time, you just accepted this is something that happens now. You’re not proud of it- some of you hates yourself, but another part of you finds a a sick, primal pleasure in it. It’s the only guaranteed way for you to get him to shut up, if only for a few minutes. The fight for dominance- fuuck you’re messed up, huh?

Thinking of the humiliation you’d feel if any of the others found out- oh god, how could you look Alastor in the eyes again- you change absolutely nothing about your behavior around Adam. On the surface, nothing has changed at all. You two still bicker and argue all the time, if anything, worse than ever. Yet the other members can feel something’s up, that something changed. Adam’s insults feel more hollow. He always said shit just to rile you up, but there was usually an undertone of truth to his words. Not anymore- it’s all stupid shit that everybody can tell he doesn’t care about. Nobody says anything about it, though, until-

“What the fuck are you smilin’ for?” Angel’s voice makes Adam jump as he enters, sitting down on the couch beside him.

“What-? I wasn’t smiling,” Adam quickly denies. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god- are you’re gettin’ laid?” Angel grins, sitting up. The look on Adam’s face tells him everything, and he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you so are! No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood lately,”

“Uh, duh i’m getting laid, I’m Adam, I’m the origin-“

“Yeah, yeah, original dick. But that’s not what I mean and you know it.” Angel grins widely, and Adam can feel his face heating up. Oh god- why is he blushing? Since when does he care? He pushes the thought from his head.

“…You don’t know her,” Adam decides to say, crossing his arms and turning back to face the TV, hoping Angel will just leave it at that.

“Try me,” Angel leans closer, looking intently at Adam’s expression. When Adam says nothing, Angel laughs again.

“Oh my god I so know her,”

Adam grits his teeth but says nothing as Angel laughs.

“Okay, fine, don’t tell me who you’re havin’ weird secret kinky sex with,” Angel shrugs, turning to face the TV. “I’ll find out eventually,”

That makes Adam sweat.

You can’t help but laugh, nearly spitting whisky everywhere while Husk chuckles to himself. Sure, it’s a bit trite, ranting to the bartender about your shitty day while he pours you a stiff drink, but Husk could always make you laugh about it, and call you out on your bullshit if needed. He was real, and you liked that about him. Plus, it beat drinking alone when none of your other friends wanted to party on a Wednesday.

“-and not a crazy bitch like I’m a crazy bitch, crazy like she lit her mom’s hair on fir-“

“Husk holy shit!”

Both of you look in the direction of Angel Dust’s voice as he runs from the hallway towards you both. He leans over the bar, eager to share whatever news he had.

“Adam’s fucking somebody- somebody here!”

You choke on your whisky, spitting it back into the glass. Angel and Husk both look at you with a raised brow.

“My bad,” is all you say. you can’t think of anything else that would play it off, so you just quietly wipe off your face while Angel recounts his encounter with Adam. You feel an eye twitch- you could strangle that prick for being so conspicuous.

“You’re quiet, Y/N,” Angel says in a teasing tone.

“I just could not care less if I tried,” You say back, firmly but with a shrug, and you hope it suffices as an acceptable explanation, and that you come off as your usual apathetic self. You finish your whisky, and luckily, Angel doesn’t give you any more shit. Slightly unsettled by that interaction, you avoid Adam for the next few days.

Late one evening, everybody’s gone up to their rooms and the hotel is quiet. You’ve already eaten, smoked, brushed your teeth and put on pajamas, but there’s nothing good on TV and you’re bored and high and just want a task to keep busy. So you wander aimlessly into the kitchen and find yourself doing the dishes that Charlie was too stressed out to do earlier.

As you scrub brown charred bits off a pan, you find your stupid weed-addled brain wandering to Adam. You haven’t fought with him in a while, mostly because you’d run away before he had the chance to start, but still. It feels weird, being so calm lately. No wonder you’re bored. It’s the way things used to be at the hotel, before he arrived. You guess you hadn’t realized how used to his presence you’ve gotten. Gross. You cringe at the thought.

Luckily, your phone starts to vibrate on the counter, giving you a distraction. You pick up and hold it between your ear and shoulder without looking at the caller ID.

“Yo, where are you right now?”

Of course.

“Adam? What the fuck, when did you get a phone?” You snort. When you realize you’re smiling you clear your throat and force your face to relax.

“Whatever. Can you come upstairs?”

You pause. He sounds slightly odd.

“What, like, to your room?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“ohmyfuckinggod- can you not be difficult for fucking once and just do what I ask?” Then, as an afterthought, he adds “Please?”

Damn, okay. You don’t say anything for a moment, thinking maybe you’re just smacked and he’s being normal.

“Suuuure… Just uh, gimme a minute,” You say carefully, putting the dishes down. Then, he hangs up on you. What a dick.

Unbeknownst to you, while you’ve been thinking about him, he’s been thinking about you way more.

You’ve been avoiding him- obviously. Not unexpected, but it pissed him off to no end. He’s fucking Adam! Who are you to ignore him? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him, anyway?

By now, the others have started to accept him- including them in their plans, drinking with him, no longer leaving a room when he enters- so he doesn’t really need a chaperone anymore. Despite this, it still feels wrong. Even in a room with every other patron of the hotel, he’d started to notice when you weren’t there.

He didn’t even notice he was starting to miss you at first. It wasn’t until he and Charlie were seated at the bar, and he drank more than he probably should have, that he mentioned you were avoiding him.

“What’dya, miss her?” Husk asked.

“Awww, Adam!” He still remembers the look on her and Husker’s faces. “You are starting to change! That’s so sweet of you!”

And then because she was drunk she kept rambling about it for like 30 minutes, but he doesn’t remember the rest of what she said, just the utter humiliation he felt. He shut up for the rest of the night to avoid spilling his guts any more, but Husk- the annoying fucker- still gives him knowing looks every now and then.

And after Nifty had washed his sheets, and he’d noticed that his pillows lost the scent of cigarettes, perfume, and shampoo you’d left behind, he knew he was royally fucked.

The worst of all, though, is that he feels helpless to feeling these emotions- and even worse, he doesn’t want to stop feeling them. Before he’d even noticed it, he was thinking about you all the time, and he was fine with it. The embarrassment was killing him, even though, supposedly, nobody knew.

On this particular night, he’d probably had just a tad too much beer with his dinner, because when he’d returned to his room and flopped on his bed, there was a little bug in the back of his brain that kept whining about how empty it felt. He tossed and turned for a bit, just wanting to sleep it off, but he eventually gave up, reaching for his phone.

“Adam?” Before you’re finished knocking, Adam jumps up to get the door, pulling you inside quickly. You make a noise of surprise as he scoops you up immediately, not saying anything as he carries you to his bed.

“Damn, needy, huh?” You laugh. This time, it’s him telling you to shut up as he tosses you onto the bed and crawls over you.

You sit up slightly to help him get your shirt off, and then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your chest as he unclips your bra.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” He says with a casual shrug as his hands run up your torso to grope at your tits.

“mm,” You hum, arching your back into his touch. “missed this?” You smile sarcastically. Missed you, he thinks.

“Sure missed these,” He pushes the thought away and grins back, squeezing your chest for emphasis. He pulls back briefly to rid himself of his own shirt, then bends back down to press more kisses to your flesh. He looks up, staring at your expression as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, reveling in the whimper he’s rewarded with.

“fuckin’ perfect tits…” He mumbles into your chest before nipping at your skin. You let your eyes shut as his free hand slides down, under the band of your shorts and his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. Adam thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat.

Impatiently, you shift your hips up to slide off your shorts and panties, then reach to tug at his belt loops to signal he should do the same. When he looks up and sees the desperate look on your face, he decides not to keep you waiting, and pulls back to rip off his pants and boxers.

You guess avoiding him these past few days has affected you, too, because you’re surprisingly desperate. You sit up, wrapping your fingers around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever he had been planning to say dies and comes out a needy garble of nonsense that makes you snicker.

To your surprise, he has no quip as he crawls over you and pushes himself between your legs. He bites back a gasp when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a groan following a moment after as he begins pushing into you.

Your thighs are trembling by the time he’s fully inside of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist weakly while you adjust to the stretch.

He sits up fully, and from this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, tears pricking in your eyes, he thinks you look more angelic than anything he ever saw in heaven.

“fuuuck,” He groans, letting his head fall onto the bed as he starts to move his hips.

“Adam!” The way you whine his name is truly sinful, and he feels his dick twitch in response.

“holyfuck, ‘s so big,” The slight burn makes you regret your impatience now, and his face makes you regret stroking his ego. You make a point to ignore his self satisfied laugh, focusing instead on how his cock stretched you open, making you to tighten and release around him. You turn your head, looking at his wicked fucked-out smile that grew wider and wider as his movements got deeper.

You can’t speak, you just moan helplessly as your hands search for anything to grab onto to steady yourself. You throw your hands around his neck and bury them in his now dark wings, in the way you always did. You gripped the feathers tightly and let out a moan and oh, god, he’s not going to last long, he thinks, with you gripping the sensitive feathers like that. He groans again, then his lips find your shoulder, where he leaves messy, open-mouthed kisses trailing towards your neck.

“so fuckin’ sexy, so, so good for me,” you barley even register that he’s speaking, with your entire focus being on the way he moved in and out of you.

“you’re- so beautiful,” he says between grunts. your eyes widen.

“wha-ahh-“ before you can question that, a particularly hard thrust makes the words die in your throat, and you’re clawing to his biceps again.

A warmth of pride erupts in your chest at the way his breathing has turned labored and his grip on you tightens. An arm snakes around your waist, the other under your head, pulling you impossibly tighter against him as he continues to desperately pound into you. The proud smirk you wore is wiped off your face when you feel one hand releases you and his hand trails down, eventually pressing a thumb your clit, rubbing small circles that make you moan and twitch beneath him.

You can’t even warn him before your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, all the while, Adam pounds into you, strokes you inside and out. You vaguely hear a sudden crash and him mumbling, thanking god that you came before him because seconds later, he’s spilling his own cum inside you with a broken wanton groan.

Adam stills for a moment, panting as he holds you close. When he rolls off you, he keeps one arm around you, pulling you against his chest. Huh. That’s new.

Neither of you say anything. That was… different, than you’re used to with him. You furrow your brows as you think, and find yourself confused. The cogs in your head turning something terrible in your mind, questioning his intentions.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you sit up, pushing away his arm as you go to find your clothes. He frowns, watching you pick your shirt up from the ground and pull it over your head. You looked guarded, like a cornered doe, like you were just waiting for the chance to sprint away.

Adam grabs his own boxers from the floor and pulls them on, quickly crossing the room to where you were. He looks down at you, and feels an odd, tightening in his chest, something he’s felt a lot since falling to hell.

He leans against the door, putting on a cocky smile.

“Soo… this was like a booty call, huh?”

“…Yeah, whatever. See ya,”

#i am SO out of practice writing smut holy shit this is so bad #took me fucking forever too #but hey i’m sick so i have a lot of time to write!#also i promise the next one won’t end immediately after the smut like these last two 😭 i’ve got the plot more figured out now #adam x reader #first man adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #!my stuff #!not sfw #first man adam #hazbin hotel adam #female reader

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thesecretcornerintheroom · 6 months ago

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Don’t forget about me

Pairing: Kid (Dev Patel) x Female reader

Warnings: Tears, blood and injuries, angst and a lot of smut

🔞+

Word count: 1,897

CRASH! That’s the sound u heard that awoke u from your sleep. It was a hot summer night. The only sound in your room was an old fan running at the highest setting and the crickets from outside. You turn to the window, shocked to see your nightstand chaotic with all your belongings knocked over, the window wide open, and you look to the floor to see Kid sitting under the window, panting and holding his side. “did I wake you?” He said through quick breaths. His eye closed from sweat getting in, and his other eye squinting at you. You looked at kid's hand clutching his side, realizing he was bleeding. “Oh my god, what happened?” you said, discarding your thin bed sheets, running over to the window, closing it, and pulling the curtain forward, squatting next to him to meet his eyes on the floor. You grabbed his face, looking for any more bruises out of the ordinary from what he would usually get in a fight. He had a slight cut above his eye and a bruise on his arm, but the worst was the cut on his side. At least you prayed it was just a cut. You quickly put your arm under him to lift him “quickly to the bathroom.” as he rose, he grunted.

“I’m assuming you did more than just fight tonight,” you said, focusing more on the needle penetrating his skin with the thread to close the open gage on his side. Cause him to grunt in pain and take a breath. Kid was leaning on the sink now with his shirt removed and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips with his damp hair covering his face, peering down at you. Your curls were pulled back, and all you had on was an oversized t-shirt. “I think I’m getting closer to finding him,” he said, his voice deep but calm. You finished sewing him up. “You're not even close to him yet, and you're already hurt. This can only end worse,” you said, looking him in the eye. You knew his situation, you knew who he was talking about, and you hated that his heart was this unsettled, but you couldn’t blame him. “Take a shower. It’s too late at night for you to go home, and seeing how you came through my window and not the front door, I’m assuming you're not safe,” you said, looking him in the eye and his deep brown eyes they held so much emotion and thoughts you knew he was exhausted.

You were in your bed, the hot air sticking to you. You recounted how you got here and met the Kid. You were conducting a research study on poverty and culture. The affects it has on different marginalized countries. That’s how you ended up in India. You meet Kid because you were snooping in places you weren’t supposed to be. You asked questions to some dangerous men. Kid who was secretly stalking you because he watched everyone in the community, he came in and saved you. Ever since he’s been in contact with you (it’s been three months, and you have one more month left), you felt the bed dip beside you.

Taking your eyes off the beige wall of peeling paint, you turned to see a kid in bed lying on his back, his hair wet from the shower. He didn’t have a shirt, a patch adorned his stitches, and he wore a pair of shorts you washed the last time he came over from one of his excursions . His eyes were glossy and heavy and slowly turned to you. “I have to do this. He didn’t even know her name.” His voice was heavy. You turned to place your hands on his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as the tears fell from his face.” “You’re gonna let this consume you, and I’m afraid of how this will end,” I whispered. He looked at you, his eyes saying everything. If I asked him not to hunt down the man who changed his life for the worse, he would have felt torn. I knew the idea of not getting revenge was too strong over choosing me. I let out a deep sigh, holding back my tears. “This will be our last night like this,” you said, your voice dry. You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. Kid's eyes became heavy, his body rigid. He softly shook his head. No, he knew what you meant by it being our last night. You leaned over, slowly adjusting to the thick air. Your nose met his nose as we kissed. A deep sigh was released from him. He drew the kiss as he rose from the bed, placing his hand on your thigh, gripping your thigh. You let out a gasp. You could feel the textures of his scared palms on your skin and how rough and warm they felt on your skin, taking mental notes of how that felt cause you knew you wouldn’t be feeling this forever.

I kissed him harder before pulling away. “you gotta be careful; you still hurt.” Before I could even regain my breath, he was kissing me again roughly, causing me to whimper. He kissed me as though he knew the moment couldn’t last forever. I felt like I saw stars from how great the kiss felt. “ lay down,” you said softly. Kid looked at you. He lay back down on his back, Kid, usually quiet, but you could tell he was lost for words. You rose off of the bed a little bit to remove your panties as you sling your legs over his waist. You sat on top of his lap, and you felt his hands slowly move from the side of your thighs to grabbing your waist.

You slowly started to move on his lap, your core rubbing up against his clothed member, causing him to moan.” Shit,” he said, his voice dry. You're where grinding on him at a steady pace, trying not to to hurt him. You could feel his member growing hard with his shorts and you becoming wetter. You grabbed his chin to have him look him in your eyes as you leaning over him so you lips caressed his. His mouth opened softly, panting from the feeling you were stirring up within him. You started to move your hips faster. “ promise me you’ll be safe. You said, your lips touching his as he let out soft moans. “Okay, yes, okay,” he said, moaning, looking me in my eyes. “ when this is done, you come to me, okay? You know where I’ll be,” you said, looking deep into his eyes, knowing he understood exactly what you meant.” he nodded yes, breathing deeply. He grabbed you and flipped you on your back now on the mattress. His eyes darkened, and his body glistened with sweat. “okay,” he said before he grabbed the bottom of your shirt and removed it from you. He disregarded his pants. He lowered his head to her neck. His teeth lightly grazed your skin before he nipped at your spot, causing you to moan. As he teased the spot on your neck, moans slipped from your mouth. He started to work his way slowly down his body, leaving bites and kisses on the way down your body, leaving you to shiver as his warm

Lips touched your body you felt the breeze from the fan was in your room take away his warm kisses. Before you knew it, the kid had your legs open, and his hands wrapped around your leg. You gasped moan as you felt him drag his teeth down your inner thigh, kissing and licking your inner thigh. The sting causes you to gasp in surprise from pain, followed by pleasure. You realized he was leaving a hickie on your inner thigh. Uuuh, you said, putting your fingers in his hair near the nape of his neck. “Don’t you forget about me,” he said in a deep voice. Before you could respond, he was blowing on your clit before he went in for a kiss on your clit, causing your body to rise off the bed. You felt his tounge circle your clit back and forth back and forth at a fast pace.was he? Was he making out with your clit? “Please, please, you cried out as he started to suck on your clit. You could feel yourself becoming wet, pooling around his mouth and dripping down your legs. You started to move your hip, subconsciously gripping the sheets. You were panting. No words were coming out. The only sound to be heard was a Kid grunting and your panting, and the sound of the silver fan running in the room. You could feel your breath begin to form in your stomach. “dont stop,” you said, loving this feeling of a tear forming in your eye. “Please, you croaked.”’you could feel Kid doing everything, licking, kissing, penetrating you with his tongue. You were unraveling so fast. The feeling finally hit you, causing you to moan. You felt the release, and your head was dizzy. The air was thick—you were trying to gain your breath. Kid moved back up to your face and kissed your nose. “I’ll find you again, I promise he said, looking into your tear-stained eyes. He entered you without a second thought, looking you in your eyes cause tear-stained eyes were now blurred, and you rolled them at the feeling of him interning you. He grabbed your one leg and brought it to his hip. His hip was now controlling the pace going in you at a steady pace; you were kissing your mind. “Come for me again, okay he said,” as his pace became more demanding. My moan became louder, his eyes not leaving my mind as his face fell into

My face. I love you, Kid said, his brown eyes holding so many emotions. Promise me you’ll still want me, he said as he went faster. The feeling of his warmth inside of me made me bite my lip and moan, his hips moving at a faster pace. He wrapped my leg in his

Waist as his finger played with my clit he started to Let out a slow moan, “Say it,” causing me to gasp, clasping onto his arm. “I love you I said, strained, focusing on this feeling. My body had this sensation that I knew wouldn’t last forever, but I wish it could last a lifetime. As he’s playing with my clit and his hips are moving, I can feel his movements becoming erratic. He let out low grunts. “Shit,” I said, that feeling turning in my stomach agin my legs started to shake “im finna cum” I said, and he grunted in agreement. The feeling was powerful. The air was thick, and our moans were in sync. We both were coming at the same time. I wrapped my leg around kid and brought him

Closer to me, he came within me. I felt the warmth of him within me. He was panting, eyes big, looking at what we had just done. He removed his still-swollen member from me

Seeing both of our juices together inside

I am now pooling on the bed. “Now I have to

Come back to you,” he said, sitting on the bed and looking me in the eyes.

#smut #imagine #monkey man #dev patel imagine #monkey man imagine #Dev Patel #I watched the movie for Dev but stayed for the plot #here’s a random story I made last night #enjoy #I also been wanting to write a dev Patel fanfic cause there’s not a lot on this app #😘🥰

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ragnarokhound · 8 days ago

Note

Hi wife! Thinking about you. Should we buy a hot tub? Or a sauna? Or both?

Also thinking about the werewolf fic. I would be delighted if there was full werewolf smut in the werewolf fic👀👀 When will my wife (you) return from the war (writing the werewolf fic)?

Also thinking about the hilarity of tim hearing jason talk about his “time of the month” and ofc assuming it’s about Jason being trans when jason is talking about wolfing out. Picture:

Tim: “-and I brought chocolate-“

Jason: “Are you trying to kill me? canines can’t have chocolate!”

after some confusion they clarify things (jason is trans, not a big deal, he’s a werewolf, also not a big deal). Then (important for plot and character development) they have dirty dirty werewolf sex :)

Hehehe hello darling, you are always near my thoughts <3 And ohhh I could use a dip in a hot tub, especially now that winter has come to my climes >.< Though I fear a sauna would never see its use with me, haha

I am ALSO thinking about werewolf fic. Nigh constantly these days. I am deep in the trenches. I am furiously pondering how to reconcile the idea I had sketched most of the bones of almost an entire year ago with what I think and like now. It's been a bit of a battle. One I am fighting... tooth and claw you might say ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ (badum tsh)

Alas, while I don't want to give too much away, I feel I must warn you that the kind of werewolf Jason is in werewolf fic is more in line with 'that's just a wild animal' and less 'monsterfucker furry.' So while we'll see some very animalistic behaviors from Jason (what with the scenting and the licking and the biting and the growling etc) and some occasional signs that he's on the verge of wolfing out, there is no actual wolfed out smut lmao OTL. Please enjoy a small sneak peek of what I kind of sort of mean at the bottom of this post <3

For actual werewolf smut you'll want to look forward to the timestamp/smutty sequel I fully intend to write for my vamp!Tim and werewolf!Jay fic, in which he is absolutely the monsterfucker furry kind of werewolf and Tim takes gleeful advantage of that fact lololol (but werewolf fic comes first...! It Is Time. I Will Not Be Distracted.)

And omg yes. I do very much love the trans 🤝 werewolf overlap and metaphors, it's one of my favorite things fr fr (you got me thinking about trans lesbians jaytim now--)

I LOVE assuming there's a mundane explanation for a supernatural secret, that's my JAM (Do know that our early correspondences live rent free in my WIP document and that I would eventually also like to write the goofy sitcom-esque romcom in which Jason isn't quite hiding his lycanthropy from Tim - but Tim's not really clocking it either lmfao)

--and it must be said that dirty dirty werewolf sex will always be VITAL to both plot and character development <33 (it certainly is to werewolf fic, even if the werewolf part of that sex is mostly in the vibes lolol)

Anyway, here's wonderwall a sneak peek leading up to some of the smut in werewolf fic:

Jason snaps his teeth sharply, inches from Tim’s throat. It's not an empty gesture, and Tim wildly thinks through his options, squeezing tight with his knees around Jason’s thick waist so he can’t buck Tim off immediately. Jason is too strong and Tim is too light; he can’t stay here forever. Jason writhes underneath him, looking for leverage. With his shoulders trapped under Tim’s staff, Jason plants his feet and surges his hips in a powerful, cresting motion. Tim sinks back on his haunches to keep him down, then forward again when he threatens to break free. In Jason’s struggle, he rocks up just as Tim rocks down— and they inadvertently grind together. Tim's stomach curls and tangles in an electric jolt of heat at the glancing friction. He realizes with a spike of hot, mortified shame that he's— Tim is hard under his uniform. He sucks in a short gasp, trying to hide it, and Jason— —whines.

#this isn't quite new - this is some of the old stuff I had written back in February this year TuT alas the newer stuff is too plot relevant #for you see... all of the smut in werewolf fic... is plot relevant smut. such is the nature of an enemies with benefits to lovers fic lmao #also such is the nature of me i can't fucking help it lmaoooo #i'm always thinking about Them (plot relevant jaytim werewolf smut)#but yeah there are Reasons why Jason stays human with Tim most of the time lol and you'll probs be able to guess why ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)#🍷💥anon #i miss you my wife </3 thinking of you from this side of the pacific #fun fact: i wrote intricate rituals in part as a fluffy distraction from the angst of werewolf fic #the girls are fightingggg #asked and answered #my writing #jaytim

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geraskierfanficprompts · 7 months ago

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Prompt 13

How was Jaskier supposed to know that the lovely woman he spent the night with had a husband? Let alone a husband in a big scary poacher gang? So Jaskier is hauling ass through the forest, only to get his leg caught in a beartrap. He faceplants (very daintily, prettily, and most certainly not with an embarrassing wail, thank you very much) and begins sobbing with the pain. Not to mention his cheap lute breaking into splinters. Great. Just great. What a LOVELY day he's having! A pure white werewolf with bright golden eyes suddenly prowls out of the bushes, growling at him, and Jaskier decides that today really is his worst day. No matter how majestic the beast is, this is cearly the end of Jaskier the bard. He sobs and begs to live, apologizing profusely, and the last thing he sees is the monstrous snout getting closer. Geralt, the werewolf, is stalking for food for his pack, only to come across one of those humans in their own traps. Except... This human isn't one of them. He's wearing brightly colored delicate clothing, and wasn't familiar with where their traps were. It's an innocent human. One that smells very nice, under all the stench of blood and fear. Wolf!Geralt creeps closer, and pries open the trap, intending on releasing the human back into the wild, but it just kind of stares at him in horror before passing out. Hm. Well, it appears it needs more care than he initially thought. So imagine the other witcher's surprise when he doesn't bring food back to the pack, but instead brings a human to patch up. The moon dips out of the sky, they all turn back into their witcher-human forms, and now they're all SCRAMBLING over what they're meant to do!? HOW DO YOU CARE FOR A HUMAN AGAIN??? FUCK- I DON'T KNOW! Geralt stop petting him, he doesn't like that, he's human, not a wolf! What do you mean he likes it? Oh shit- EVERYONE QUICK PET HIM! No wait- He doesn't like it any more- One at a time pet him! And uh- Fuck- What do normal people eat!?

♡!Optional addons!♡ • (ORIGINALLY A TAG) Is Aiden a werecat or also a werewolf? And if he is a werewolf (and/or a werecat I suppose), perhaps he's from a rival pack (against his will) and needs to be rescued by Lambert as a sideplot • Maybe the poachers find poor trapped Jaskier and Geralt has to fight them off first, or perhaps they come back later, intent on killing the White Wolf • Perhaps Geralt turns Jaskier into a werewolf (Either with his consent or without his consent ONLY if he has to do it to save his life, we don't fuck with forced bonds here, people)

#I just want to see a bunch of dumbass witcher werewolves care for their bard #Geraskier #And/or MonoPoly Witchersexual Jaskier #Please someone write any of my prompts i need something good after shane madej and ryan bergara broke my heart by becoming capitalists :(#fanfiction prompts #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #witcher fanfiction #the witcher #geralt loves his bard!#writing prompts #requited unrequited love #optional smut of course #the regular werewolf sex shenanigans #maybe a knot #maybe a lil scent marking #maybe a lil growling and biting #its up to you darling #werewolf #werewolves #WerewolfAU #Werewolf au #Werewolf Geralt #Is aiden a werecat? or a werewolf like the rest of them? Coen and Letho could also be there to fill up the pack some more #Aiden could be from a rival pack against his will that Lambert helps break him out of as a side plot #if we felt extra gay #lambert x aiden #a soft spot of mine

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aelinschild · 6 months ago

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Dropping this and running away.

Regular evenings seemed to come less frequently these days.

Aelin remembered when the drip of some leaky floorboard was the sole pace of her shifts. The dripdripdrip a marker of seconds passed. Ticking in the back of her skull like a pulse she'd long forgotten. A beating heart settled - put down. It's gentle sounding no different than a petulant child. Itching underneath her skin like the uncomfortable scratch of wool gone too long without washing.

She had grown fond of the noise, though. Like the hand of a clock steadily raced forward, so did that godsdamned floorboard. Racing against time, or the composition of the building in it's entirety. She didn't know. Didn't care.

Much of what she did here was just for the wad of cash slipped under worn tables. Hands cracked and peeling - slivers near her nail beds. The blood lasted on the money, so long as it stayed with her longer than a night.

It was why she was still here. Still watching the same game of poker begin for its thousandth consecutive time. Roucous chatter drowning out the drip. The sound of heavy coins denting the rotted wood.

Funny, how it was strong enough to pierce her skin and simultaneously bend to the weight of a piece of silver.

She didn't take well to the irony.

Her shifts had for so long been the same routine. Serve the regulars. Pocket a coin from the gaggle of grannies, crammed into the recess in the wall. A little alcove. Made great shadows to conceal the trick of fast hands and faster tongues. Wipe down the tacky residue that accumulated faster than she could keep track of. Argue with the old man from across the street - he didn't like the (outrageous) fractured neon lights. Pity for him, because when he was knee deep in his points, face red from exasperation, pulling out a chair had the most similar movements as a sly hand into a pocket. Cool cash crawling up her sleeve. He'd leave in a huff and Aelin would be a little lighter when she missed back behind the bar. Then the night would roll in on itself. Drunkenness a curse of this corner of the Earth, she was only powerful enough to keep her head above water and do her job. Close the bar. Count the cash. Wire it away and consider mourning the loss. Until she wouldn't and was back behind the counter.

That was her normal.

And so when her flagging gaze swept across the floor, the appearance of a new piece on the board made her falter. She wished there would be more reaction than the stuttering of her eyes, wished that she felt something deeper, drawn from newness, but there was nothing.

Nothing walked closer to her. She had the thought to smile, make herself pleasant, but the action didn't follow. Nothing laid large hands upon her bartop, the one to her right (nothing's left), crawling with whorls and scribbles. Like a child had gotten a hold of a tattoo gun. How unfortunate. Those hands - large, uncomfortably so - were attached to arms. Shocking, she supposed, as her eyes crawled up along the weaving tattoo. Golden skin and visible definition could have heated something in her. Maybe it did, maybe it had been so long she no longer knew what heated her core.

"...neat,"

Hm?

The dripdripdrip was gone. And with it took the clarity borne from acute annoyance. Hands, arms, shoulders... Was she warm? Or was she losing it?

"Love."

Like a fog had descended over her minds eye, snapped away as quickly as it had formed at the call of that petname. Love. What?

She balked. "Pardon?"

He - nothing, nothing of nothing who is nothing and of no effect to her - pursed his lips. Rolling the flesh between teeth, tightening the hinge of his jaw. Gods, there was definition there too. The angle of that jaw raised to high chedckbones, a tinge of red, pulsed with life. An overwhelming urge to follow that rise and fall, trace the hollows and contours. Feel along the strong brow that framed pine green eyes. Eye that sparkled. Eyes that tightened. Eyes lined with mirth...

"You work here?" He gruffed. The smirk in his eyes didn't reach his voice. But that voice... She'd love to compare it to crashing waves, smoothing over jagged rock. Endlessly leaving a print on what was considered impenetrable. But it instead stroke along a frayed edge in her. Breaking, rather than soothing.

A pause. Where were her words? "Yes."

"Right," he murmured. Muscles flexing as he rapped his knuckles along the worn bartop. She wanted to tell him to not. Grab his fist in her own and hold tight above the shitty wooden slab. Cover it with her own. "Then I'll get a whiskey. Neat."

Crawl over the tanned skin. "Of course." Trace the inked designs. "Just give me moment." Litter a marking somewhere.

Something tangible.

"Yes!"

She didn't know how it had really happened.

Well, she did. She had played her part, and now was enjoying the outcome. Somewhere along the lines of him ordering the whiskey, leaning only lightly against the barstool, delicately draped like he was ready to spring up at a moment notice. She had wandered around. Who knew that dust collected so quickly on tables that were just cleaned? Repetitive movements only let her drift into the sensation of green eyes pinned to her back. Lower, even.

She needed extra cleaner from the back. And it was only an accident that her hand grazed his upper thigh. She had practice in the deft movements that could steal a pretty coin, but her fingers didn't dig in, clasping around valuables. Rather, she had grazed the worn jean. Lighting a blaze, trailing the fire down to his knee.

It had pulsed in her core as she walked to the back room. The bar quieter, different to the usual rowdiness of a Saturday. She had swayed her hips a little more. Sensual machinations coming back like the flip of a switch. She felt a buzz in her head, unlike a dripdripdrip of a leaky floorboard.

It was stuffy. Her face so close to his, the height difference didn't serve them well at first, until he had hoisted her up around his waist. Her legs locking her tight. She had felt the heat of his body. Felt the heat through the clothes - get them off - felt the heat from her body, emanating out in a pulsing rhythm.

She had been panting. Breath coming out faster and faster as she wiggled her hips to tuck deeper into the hardness she felt pressing into her core. Writhing would get her nowhere when he was holding her in his arms. Her mouth found the underside of his jaw, and she sucked hard.

His groan was music to her ears.

Her apron fell. Ripped apart by those large hands. How much could they hold? He was surprisingly deft with unbuttoning the front of her dirty blouse. Button after button, down until he could rip it from her waistband, and shuck it off her shoulders.

Her bra was nothing special. Some department store sale piece, but it didn't matter, because it was off just as quickly and she was bare from the waist up.

"Off." She tugged at his shirt, taking a break from marking up his neck. She wanted to feel him against her. Skin to skin. She needed the contact more than anything. She was burning.

He had leaned her back, still in his hold. A little rough, her head nearly crashing into the wall they were pressed up agaisnt. She'd forgive him though, when he snaked one arm behind his head and expertly peeled the shirt from his torso.

Gods. Gods above, was this her lucky night. The tattoo wound all the way from his wrisr to his neck, matching like a puzzle along his chest. Corded with muscle, Built from genuine use, she could tell. This man was not built of aesthetics.

Her fingers found the hardened planes of his stomach, pressing lightly along the muscles. It tightened under her hand. Palms pushing agains the tautness of his abdomen, she didn't know whether to trail back up to his mouth, or push lower.

"Hold on," he bit out. Breathless just as she was.

She dug her nails into the shoulder she was tracing, his hand snaked to the button on his jeans. Her breaths came more rapidly now. Blood rushing through her ears. It was hands and tongues and teeth and no other thoughts. Nothing but what would come next. Nothing at all.

The zipper was so loud amongst their panting. But it was pulled down, and Aelin made a effort to shuck off her pants as well. But where her thighs were stretched around his waist kept her from making any further moves. She wanted nothing between them.

"Hurry up," she hissed, pressing herself back against him.

He shuddered when she pulled him tight, nails digging deeper. She hoped they would mark him. Stay with him longer then this moment. "Gods." It's not soft the way he shoves them closer into the wall. The way his hand is under her nondescript panties in seconds. Burning a trail along the most intimate skin. He stalls there for a second. Aelin is pulsing; in her head, in her blood, in her cunt.

His eyes find hers. Green and vibrant and swirling and dark. All blown wide with lust. He keeps her trapped there, pinned by his gaze while his fingers swipe along her folds. Through them, deeper until they wetten with the arousal she surely though was dripping down her leg by this point. He traces along for a moment, and she has half a mind to snap at him to hurry it up when his thumb is pressing into her clit so hard she sees stars.

She squeaks out a breathless yelp.

"You're soaking," he drawls, mouth coming down to the skin at the coloumn of her neck. He breaths into her, breathes her in. "Just waitin' for me, weren't you? All pretty behind your bar top."

She would roll her eyes if they weren't already at the back of her skull from the pleasure. He kept a steady hand on her clit while rough fingers slipped back through her folds, down to where she needed him most. Yes. The roar in her head heightened.

"Please..."

He hummed. "Please what?" A smirk, in voice or against her skin, she could not tell "Please who?"

Fuck. She hadn't gotten his name either. They had tumbled into the closet so quickly, bodies pressed so close, that introductions had been skipped. She thought she could make it throigh without his name. But this bastard was going to hold it over her head.

Fingers traced around her entrance; probing, waiting.

"Please... Sir. Fuck me."

He laughed. She jostled with the movement and his fingers pushed against her just right. "I'll let it slide," and with little pause, he pushed in. Slicking in quick, easy, the slide only assisted with the way she was falling apart in waiting for him. Two - two - fingers stretching her wide and pushing that rising wave higher. She keened a breathy whine when he curled those rough fingers. Pressing hard into that spot inside of her she could never reach herself.

His breath curled around her ear. He bit the shell of it before murmuring "But you better call me Rowan. No Gods or Sir. I want to hear my name from those pretty lips."

She nodded, feverish for more. He bared his teeth in a satisfied smile, increasing the pace of his fingers inside of her. She had hardly noticed when he swapped his thumb for the heel of his palm against her clit. But she felt it now. Pushing against her whole he slicked up her panties. The wave rose higher and higher.

"Rowan!" She cried. "Ah! Don't stop... Please."

"Wasn't even thinking of it, love." He kept her trapped under his gaze. And she wanted to look away when her jaw dropped in white-hot pleasure but something in his eyes promised to hurt if she did. "There you go, pretty girl." She moaned at his comment, riding high after the crashing of the orgasm. She could feel every press of his fingers inside her as he stilled them, still sensitive even after the rush of pleasure.

And oh, was she riding a fine line. Legs a little shaky and breath hurried. But when Rowan pulled out - to her displeasure - and brought those hands to his face, to his mouth, and licked her clean off of them.

She whined. A pitchy sound that worked its way out of her as he stared into her eyes, licking along the crevices between fingers. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he quickly shoved those same fingers against her tongue and pressed down. Freezing her there.

"Taste like heaven, love. But that was only the first course"

Jeans ripped off and pants pulled down. She swapped the wall against her back for cold air. Stiffening nipples to an even harder peak than what they had come to in post-orgadmic bliss. More more more, she changed in her head. She was so sensitive and so ready and so-

She squeaked. He had pulled himself from the confines of his underwear. She has missed it. Blissed out with the feel of him against his chest, but he was there, notching against her entrance in hasty movements.

He eyes met hers, "Condom?"

Fuck her. "I'm on the pill."

His grin was feral. His grip tightened to a near bruising hold. She felt his cock prod at her entrance, and he pushed it around, catching on the arousal she had spilled. At least he had prepped her. She hadn't seen his size, had felt it, yes, but this man seemed like he was blessed, if only judging by what she had already seen.

The moment spans, and her what desire jumped thrpigh her at a rushing pace came to a near stall. The dripdripdrip threatening to return, when the air was punched from her lungs as he pushed up, up and into her in one stoke.

"Ah! Rowan!" She choked. Stretched so full she felt him in her stomach. Tears brimmed her eyes as the stretch ached. Gods, the prep wasn't enough, and the tight grip on him must have let him know, as he held still, caressing her back and down to her ass, before his hand snaked back around to her clit.

She moaned, sharp little breaths as he circled his finger with enough pressure to relax the tightness in her body. She hadn't noticed, but when she looked up to his eyes, wanting to see him fully, his jaw was tensed so tight that the muscles of his neck pulled. Was he in pain?

"Ah... Rowan, wh-whats wrong?" Her tears brimmed and fell over. A loosening in her core and a rushing through her mind. Every sensation was a fire lit inside of her, so much so that she didn't notice as the pain morphed into pleasure, and how she could feel every ridge, every vein, of his cock inside of her. Inside of her, gods, he needs to move.

"Nothing," he gave a shallow thrust, Aelin keened. "Jus' squeezing me so fuckin' tight I can barely breath."

"Y-yeah?" She laughed, salty lines tracing down her face. "Gonna come?"

The words were out of her mouth before she had really considered the implication of them. She was no sadist, liked the high better then the route there, but something in her tingled (beside his cock, nudging deeper and deeper with every breath) at the fire that lit in his eyes.

He laughed, a deep rumble from within, and moved. Soon, they were back up against the wall. Aelin squeezed him so tight, wanting some pleasure and wanting it now. And maybe she was egging him on more. But when Rowan tossed her legs up above the crook of his elbows - rendering her immobile - and pulled out, she almost came again there.

He pushed back in with so much force that her hands came up to cover her mouth. He set a relentless pace, hair falling over his brow and beads of sweat beginning to form at his brow. He leaned over her, pushing closer and closer and testing the limits of her flexibility. Aelin was still moaning, but it was punched out in a yelp every time his cock shoved deeper inside. The slick noises only added to the lewdness. "You gonna come? Huh, love? Gonna come for me now or do I need to fuck you harder?"

He was teasing her.

He leaned down, she dropped her hand, expecting his mouth to close over hers. But he just smirked. When his tongue traced the lines of her tears, licking all the way up her face, she closed her eyes and let go. Falling deeper into the sensation.

It wasn't long before he bored of licking her face. His mouth did finally come to her, and she let him into her mouth so fast that her head was spinning. He still thrusted in, a relentless thwap at every entrance inside of her, and she felt the wave rising again. She traced up his abs, winding around his shoulders to grip onto his hair and pull, just as he pushed in so deep she saw stars.

"Come," he growled. Tiny little movements only to plant himself deeper inside. The roaring came back to her head and she nearly screamed when it hit her. Harder than anything she felt before. Harder than she knew how to handle. Rowan groaned above her, and that was it.

He came inside her. Flooded her cunt so thoroughly it was actually uncomfortable. And it dripped down when he pulled out with little celebration. She whined at the loss of him. Whined more when he set her on her feet and stepped away.

"Thanks, love." He said, breathless and reverent. She felt lost in the aftermath. Head empty and body shocked.

"Yeah. Yeah, no problem...?" It came out as a question and she didn't know what to think. He grabbed a tissue from someplace and offered it to her. Well, at least he did something. Strange and beautiful man. Rowan, oh Rowan.

"Fucked you so hard you forget how to think, huh?" He smiled. Less feral than before, but still the edge of a knifes blade inside of those green eyes. She just nodded, reaching for her clothes that had been scattered on the floor.

She guessed that he was giving her space to come down, giving her a moment. But it crashed into the dirt when he gripped her chin between his forefinger and thumb and searched so deep into her eyes. He held her in his grip, both naked and reeling, and said, "don't shut me out, love." Before he pressed his lips to hers again. Kissing the roaring in her head to a stop and breathing something into her. Something she'd like to hold onto.

"I'll be back. Proper date and all soon, alright love?" He said as he stepped into his pants. Dressing with all the grace he had exhibited while fucking her a moment ago. What? He just moved for the door, shucking his shirt back over those beautiful shoulders and hiding the length of his tattoo. "Don't wander too far away anytime. I don't want to waste my time chasing."

The door opened, just a crack, "I'll see you soon, Aelin."

When Aelin was clothed and less in mental limbo, she pulled on the conversation (one-sided). Some deep, darker part of her was satisfied to see the nails marks she had driven into his back. Some tangible sore he'd no doubt have to clean up, if he wanted the blood off. She smiled to herself.

It wasn't until she was stepping out of the backroom that she realized Rowan had called her Aelin. Had said goodbye to Aelin.

She had never told him her name.

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auspicioustidings · 1 year ago

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The Blood Druid

Blue Blood Part 3

Summary: Continuation of the Wild Prince/The War Duke. Your lack of knowledge about the birds and the bees finally gets revealed.

Words: 1.9k (look this was supposed to be longer but my keyboard keeps randomly double spacing so everything is taking way longer and typing is making me want to commit homicide so take this while I wait until I can get a new one)

CW: Very light smut

Price and Kyle had been ever so eager to continue and you had promptly shoved them out of your chambers. You were embarrassed and confused and you hated that your body kept so easily melting like that. What was happening to you? Had men always held such sway over a woman's body and you had never known before? It scared you that they could so easily make you feel like you had caught fire and you did not care to be saved. If it was so easy, why had nobody done it before?

You screamed into your pillow, just wanting to not be the only one not in on the joke. They had certainly seemed very pleased with themselves, seeming almost indulgent when they had left after you had somewhat angrily told them to. Like you were some misbehaving little pet that they found adorable. Like they hadn't just made you go boneless and dumb in front of a true Blood Druid. You had thought the moniker was just meant to scare, never in your wildest dreams did you think this Kingdom would be as reckless as to have one amongst them.

Ok, time to think. Time to stop being a child and figure out what was going on. You could do this, you were, are? You are a damn Duchess, you can read and write and for goodness sake you can think.

You had been told that touching yourself between your legs was sinful, the Prince had been able to predict that from your reactions. So it had been apparent then that you had not done so? Did the feeling lessen then over time, allowing you to maintain some sort of wit about you if you were experienced enough? He had said, oh Gods, he had said something about a finger inside. You blushed crimson, feeling the pulse of that liquid heat again at the thought. Inside you. Like the Duke's tongue had been? Oh no, your body was already getting so worked up even remembering.

You lay on the bed on your back, taking shuddering breaths and trying to find some sense of calm. Ok. All you needed do was practice. If you were more accustomed to the feeling, you would not be as taken off guard next time. You may not be able to emulate the feeling of a rough tongue against you, but you dipped your fingers down your body, slower and more tentative than they had been this morning.

You were already so slick from what the Duke had done, closing your eyes and sighing when you felt your body begin to react again. You were languid now, viewing this as an exercise in patience the same way you did with learning Latin. That's what this was, learning. You would learn what this was.

Clit, he had called that little nub you rubbed over your clit. It was such a moody thing, so particular about how it liked to be teased. Not too hard, not too fast. But then as your blood started rushing it wanted more pressure and a faster pace. You found when you thought of the Prince kneeling by your bath or the Duke kneeling by the wall sparks fired inside you and your wetness grew. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took the pads of your fingers away from the sensitive bundle, feeling the loss instantly. You slid your fingers down to your entrance, rubbing and biting your lip as you felt the catch of your fingertips on the dripping hole.

You only used your middle finger to press. The sponginess of your insides was a foreign texture and the feeling of being squeezed by the twitching walls made you withdraw. It frustrated you to tears, not understanding what you were doing. How did two strangers know your body so much better than you did? And why was there some suggestion that they needed to know it in order to ready you for your husband? The wave of feeling inadequate made all that delicious heat turn to ash in your mouth and you withdrew your hand, punching it down into the plush mattress beside you with a whine of frustration.

There was a knock at the door which was novel in a way, nobody seemed to ever bother knocking. You fixed yourself, thinking that if it were the Prince or the Duke you'd want to just pull them in, have them touch you again in the way you wanted. It made you feel both hot and mortified at the same time. You should send them away, make it clear you were no little pet to be made to purr whenever they wanted. You'd not find out which you would have done.

"Hope ye'll naw mind if I don't call ye Duchess, nae such thing where I bide."

Gods he was such a compelling creature up close. The elaborate fabric wrapped around him was held in place by nothing but clever donning, his hair was shorn on the sides and his eyes were so... Saints help you they were so warm and kind on you. You were in equal parts intrigued and terrified of this man, caught frozen in your doorway.

"Looking a bit peely-wally there hen, why don't we get ye some water hm?"

You moved in a stiff shuffle as he herded you to sit on the edge of the bed and filled a glass from the pitcher, giving you little sips which you almost choked on with how close he was to you. Close enough to tear through your throat with his teeth you thought, close enough to drink your blood. He sighed with a little grin, making sure you got some water before putting down the glass and falling back gracelessly to sit cross legged on the floor by your feet, leaning back on his arms.

"Yer feart of me."

That pride that had been slowly waking up these past few days came alive.

"I am not 'feart' of you. You may have conquered a Kingdom, but I am not a King."

“Ye think I button up the back wee yin? Yer feart because I’m a blood druid and the West has always been feart of what they don’t understand. If naw for your betrothed everyone here would be the same.”

“Ghost. The Prince said his name was Ghost. And you are John MacTavish.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say it, but somehow it seemed important to let this man know that you had some knowledge. Big scary Blood Druid sat on your floor looking up at you, relaxed as anything. He was the third man who had lowered himself to be beneath you and it made something fizz, some animal instinct purring at the small act of submission from men so dominant.

“Simon. His name is Simon Riley. And aye, my name is John MacTavish. Johnny is fine if it’s you.”

“Johnny”, you tried it out, wrapping your tongue around it. He seemed pleased and you could not stop the annoyance blossoming on your face at how easily you had moved from terrified to having a casual conversation.

He laughed, leaning forward to put his hands on your thighs and lean his head on one like some affectionate puppy, big eyes seeming liquid gazing up at you with such fondness.

“Ye look at me the way Simon does before he skelps me wee yin. Cannae give me that look if ye want me to behave all proper for ye,” he said, his hand on your free thigh squeezing. Gods, not again.

“Please…”

He perked up at the strained cry coming from you, head raising so he could look fully at you. Whatever he found in his appraisal seemed to change his mood, his eyes narrowing for a moment.

“Wit’s that worry for? Whit did Gaz say tae ye? I’m naw going tae take yer maidenhood, just going tae make you feel good. Get you ready.”

“I don’t understand what you mean!” you shouted at him, tears starting that you tried to hide behind your hands.

You felt so stupid. So small and weak and stupid. What did you need to get ready for? What did he mean by your maidenhood and why had he assumed you were worried he would take it rather than the truth that you were worried he would make you feel as his companions had and it would overwhelm you? Gone was that relaxed nature of his, instead he seemed tense.

“Look at me” he said with such a steady command that you followed the instruction, dropping your hands. “Tell me whit ye ken about yer wedding night. Naw the one in this Kingdom, the one ye thought ye’d have in yours. The one yer ma would have told you about.”

“My mother died when I was born.”

“Who looked after ye then?”

“I- well there were servants that attended to me.”

“There must have been one that telt ye aboot yer womanhood aye? Taught ye about yer bleeding and whit it meant?”

“Of course” you huffed, “father was furious when I stained the sheets as a girl. They made sure to teach me how to hide it properly after that to not damage anything.”

The hand on your thigh tightened and then loosened rapidly a few times, but the man in front of you kept his expression neutral.

“Yer wedding night, whit did they tell ye about it?”

“Well I… it happened very quickly. I wasn’t told anything before I was in the carriage and then I was alone for the journey.”

He blew out a breath, stood and bent to press lips to your forehead and then looked at you with such a ferocity in his eyes that you remembered every horror story about Blood Druids and thought them all surely true.

“I’ll naw kill yer father without yer permission wee yin even though I should, fucking hackit wee shite that he is. Seems he left a good bit out of yer schooling.”

That horrible feeling of missing something came to a crescendo. This was confirmation enough that there were some important facts you were missing. Some knowledge held from you that meant you were defenceless against all these new sensations. And it was this monster who was the one to tell you. Although who was it that had always told you that men from the Northern Isles were monsters? His hand now against your face, rough thumb rubbing at your tears, did not feel like that of a monster.

“Gaz and Price I cannae guarantee will be able to stop themselves if they find oot that ye didnae even ken whit they were doing. Fuck hen, we’ve been mean tae ye haven’t we? Poor thing naw even knowing whit’s expected of ye from yer husband.”

“Don’t treat me like a child.”

“Aww dinnae get all bratty on me now jist cause yer mad ye dinnae ken anything,” he cooed, making you feel that way you had with Price, that pulsating anger.

“Well stop using it against me and teach me then!”

John MacTavish had never really pretended to be a good man. He was probably as close to a decent one as he reckoned a young lady could find, but certainly not good. If he were a good man he’d have left, found Kate and asked her to teach this little Duchess all about the romantic and erotic arts. But the temptation to lead you into a little snare wasn’t one he was inclined to ignore. Fuck you were so easily led, so predictably lashing out and giving him exactly what he wanted.

Oh he would be more than happy to teach you all about what you wanted to know, and he was going to take his time doing it.

#cod #cod au #fanfic #mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #I swear this was originally a fic to have a go at writing smut and now I am back on my bullshit of there needing to be plot #why am I like this?#also really shooting myself in the foot here by very much setting up for maximum smut in the next chapter #can she deliver? Probs not bestie #confidence in writing at an all time low but the voices persist so whatever

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wordsofwilderness · 8 months ago

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Not me looking at my notes for to smut scenes that are basically right after each other and seeing that both revolves around James having his head between Regulus' thighs.

I was just like, oh silly me I accidentally got the same idea twice, let me just combine these.

But NO, one is James edging Regulus with a blowjob and the other is James eating Regulus out featuring some overstimulation. Those are clearly not at all the same.

#the scenes also have to stay apart for some minor plot reasons #someday I'll write edging and overstimulation in the same smut scene though #it's needed #fic: buy me your world #(the extended edition though)#(idk if I'll be writing those chapters too or just leave it be)#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #marauders #starchaser #sunseeker

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angelsofsmalld3ath · 1 year ago

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open too: M!21+

plot: idk matt and y/m fucked last night and now matt is having trouble sitting properly(whether that be from a spanking or smth else is up to you), so no plot.

connection’s: boyfriend, fwb, one night stand, anything really just no incest.

who: matthew miller, late twenties, homosexual, bottom, switch, veterinarian

dont like my starter unless were mutual’s and you plan to reply.

matt whinced as he sat down, shotting a glare at the man sitting across from him. “shut the fuck up.” the blonde spat. “you are the reason my ass hurts right now.”

#m; matthew miller #ooc: but also like im in the mood for #he was being a brat last night and got punished and hes being a brat again this morning so y/m is threatening punishment again #kinda plot #or just soft morning after stuff)#indie gay rp #indie oc rp #gay rp starter #indie smut roleplay #indie rp

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blackpoolqueen · 28 days ago

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Turn Me Into Something Tragic

Alicent Hightower/Rhaenyra Targaryen (1/5, explicit)

Alicent Hightower is a twenty-something, people-pleasing school teacher trying to figure out her life while living up to her father's expectations. With the new school year, she's ready to settle her life into something closer to adulthood, and maybe face her anxieties along the way. What she isn't ready for, is her student's handsome half-sister.

A short and sweet Rhaenicent romcom.

Read chapter one here

#alicent pov #alicent is a teacher #she also has daddy issues #and a bit of a praise k!nk #but it's ok because hot ceo rhaenyra can take care of that #rhaenyra is also v soft and she needs someone in her corner #guess who loves taking care of her #fluff and smut with light angst and a concept of a plot #rhaenicent #alicent x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x alicent #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenicent fic #rhaenicent au #my fic

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mousy-nona · 9 months ago

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Um hi random question for a possible prompt, are you okay with male pregnancy? Cause the prompt is Lucifer finding out that he on a drunken night had a one night stand with Alastor and that has resulted in a secret child that Lucifer never knew about until one day Alastor brings the young boy to the Hotel rather than leaving him with "Aunt Rosie"

TWO PARTS FOLKS! Skip this part if you don't like PWP

SMUT WARNING. LAST CHANCE TO TURN BACK. Also this may or may not be my experiment into smut – let’s see if it’s any good lol

The night of

Later, Lucifer would blame it all on the drink.

(The devil’s brew, indeed.)

Three mistakes were made that night: the first was letting Husk bring that poison into the hotel in the first place. The second was allowing the grumpy cat and his slutty spider friend to pull him into an innocent drinking game that turned not innocent right quick.

Note to self: never, ever agree to play strip poker with an ex-gambling Overlord. What the Hell was he thinking?

Third mistake: allowing Alastor to exist.

He only had vague flashes of the rest of the night, but for some reason he remembered Alastor as clear as daybreak: Alastor’s sharp claws as he scraped him off the bar, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he carried him up to his room, the soft brush of his hair as he dropped him in his bed.

And he remembered grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t go,” he’d whispered.

And Alastor had stopped, a shadow inside of a shadow in the darkness of his room. “Sleep it off, boozehound.”

Lord in Heaven, his voice. The static electrified his blood, combined with the heat that was always simmering at a low boil whenever Alastor was around.

He’d thought it was hatred. Maybe it was. It didn’t matter – hate and lust felt the same when it was soaked in whiskey and rum.

“Why? Too scared to stay?”

He tried to throw the words out as a taunt. They came out like an invitation.

Alastor stilled. For a moment, Lucifer was convinced he would melt into the shadows, but he whirled around in one smooth pounce, clutching both of his wrists in one large hand. His claws dug into Lucifer’s skin, and the little pinpricks of pain sent shocks of electricity straight to his cock.

“Scared?” Alastor snarled. “If either one of us should be scared…” He took one sharp claw and ripped through the thin t-shirt Husk had let him keep. The cotton fell apart like it was made of paper, revealing the smooth, white skin underneath. Alastor ran his hand down his chest, leaving five thin lines of gold behind. Lucifer sucked in a breath, feeling his dick jump and strain in his pants. Oh, the pain was glorious. “It should be you, your Majesty.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lucifer batted back breathlessly.

Alastor hmmed, his red eyes glowing in the dark. Slowly, so slowly Lucifer felt like an eternity and a second had passed, Alastor loosened his grip on his wrists…and immediately plunged down on his neck.

“Wha–” was all Lucifer could get out before a vise-like grip was throttling him. His brain screamed for air, his adrenaline going haywire, and all his nerves went into overdrive. Oversensitized like this, every one of Alastor’s touches made him twist and moan like an untried virgin. No matter what ungodly sounds squeaked through his tortured throat, Alastor kept going, running his sharp claws against the side of his neck, the lines of his back, the deep Vs of his hips.

When he thought he might explode from the lack of oxygen, Alastor let go – and promptly tore the button off his pants. Lucifer’s mouth went dry as his traitor clothes slipped off, and he was laid bare in front of the wicked devil.

“What do we have here?” His grin would make a lesser man’s skin crawl.

Lucifer was not a lesser man. He was the king of Hell. And was he really just going to lie here and let Alastor strip him bare without even trying to fight back?

Moving quickly, he entwined his legs with Alastor’s and flipped them over so Alastor was lying flat on his back and Lucifer was back on top. Alastor hissed, his eyes narrowing, but Lucifer ignored him. Seeing the normally buttoned up and pristine demon like this, his hair mussed, his coat half-open sent a surge of lust so powerful what little breath he had left whooshed out of his lungs.

More, his fevered, whiskey-washed brain whispered. I want him ruined. I want him ravaged.

As if in a dream, he took hold of Alastor’s collar and ripped. The silk flew obediently off his body, revealing his toned muscles, the mouthwatering scars that dipped in and out of sight, tales of violence written in flesh and blood. Alastor was built lean but powerful, his chest as broad as his waist was narrow. Lucifer drank him in, gently touching each one of those scars with a veneration he hadn’t felt since the Fall.

I wonder if you’ll tell me these stories one day, he thought.

Alastor shivered each time Lucifer’s fingers met his overheated skin. A small sound escaped the back of his throat, half growl, half groan.

“Is that the best you can do?” He panted, his teeth gritted into a grin. A challenge.

It was painful to avoid his own straining cock for so long, but Lucifer couldn’t let Alastor’s jabs pass unnoticed. He surged forward and captured Alastor’s mouth with his – all the better to shut you up with, my dear. Alastor’s tongue was as flexible and tantalizing as his shadow tentacles. They battled for dominance, Lucifer’s hands going straight for Alastor’s pants – and letting out a sigh of relief when he felt the unmistakable stiffness pressed against the fabric. A quick slide of his finger, and he was able to grab Alastor’s cock in one hand, winding his other into the astonishing softness of Alastor’s hair.

Alastor snarled and broke the kiss. Lucifer had one glimpse of his face – eyes wild, his edges glitching, a step away from utterly undone – before Alastor sent him flying.

He landed with an oomph on his stomach, the softness of the blanket beneath bunched under his hips as he felt the ominous aura of Alastor crowd behind him. A hand fisted into his hair and yanked up, so rough he felt his scalp ache. Alastor leaned in, his breath hot and sweet against the crook of his neck. He jumped as an unmistakable pressure near his ass.

“One.”

Alastor pushed. Lucifer let out a long, keening cry as he felt a claw enter him. There was nothing soft or gentle about it, but he found himself pushing back, panting violently as a rush of electric lightning arc up and down his body.

It had never felt like this.

“So hungry for it,” Alastor murmured, his grin sharp against his cheek. Lucifer moaned, his dick so hard it bobbed against his stomach.

“Two.”

Another finger. Another rush of pleasure-pain. Another shock of lightning as sparks flew across his vision.

Alastor hummed, as if considering something. The last sane part of Lucifer’s brain trembled with fear…and anticipation. He spat into his palm, readying himself for something.

“What if I do this?”

Lucifer had been right to be afraid.

Alastor scissored his two fingers while grabbing his leaking cock and pumping hard. His mind went blank. His back arched as his mouth widened with a silent scream, feeling the crash of pleasure so mindnumbing, so overwhelming, that he lost all control. Alastor bit at his collarbone at the same time, and the wires of pleasure and pain and everything in between nearly short-circuited his brain for good.

Lucifer found his voice. He screamed as he felt the most violent orgasm he – or frankly anyone in this world – had ever known rip through his body. When he finally came back down to Earth, he realized he was on his back – and Alastor was between his legs.

“What? Did you think you were the only one who got to have fun, your Highness?”

Alastor pushed in. Lucifer’s ass burned as he struggled to take in his massive length. He closed his eyes, as if in pain, and the most delicious, static-burred groan tore from the back of his throat. It was the sexiest thing Lucifer had ever heard. His limp body, already exhausted from the pleasure Alastor had so savagely pulled from him, started stirring again.

Then Alastor hit that spot inside of him, and Lucifer’s head fell back, a strangled scream forced from the very depths of his soul. Alastor, true to form, was not gentle. He dug his claws into Lucifer’s waist as he snapped his hips, going as deep as he possibly could with every stroke. He growled as he moved, the static moving in and out of focus in time with each of his thrusts.

In the ghostly voices of the static, Lucifer could have sworn he heard his name.

There was a screech, and Alastor shuddered, his muscles rippling as Lucifer felt his cock swell inside of him.

“Let go, Alastor,” he panted. “Let go. It’s just us here.”

With a roar, Alastor did as he asked. A raging heat filled his insides as Alastor collapsed on top of him, his hair damp with sweat and an almost-peace crossing over his face.

Lucifer marvelled at it for a minute – before flipping Alastor back over and straddling his hips so that Alastor had a front-row view of his fully erect cock.

“What?” Lucifer grinned, his eyes glowing gold in the dark of the room. “Did you think you were the only one who got to have fun, Overlord?”

#radioapple #pwp #duckiedeer #PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T LIKE SMUT IM BEGGING YOU #lots of dicks in this one #pwp experiment #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #part 1 #next part will actually be plot i promise #also anon i am so sorry if this isn't what you wanted i was possessed what can i say #may delete later #and do the actual prompt lmao

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