#thread: beautiful distraction

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

how come I love leading class and reading groups and small groups and lectures and conference papers and book clubs

and I HATE leading Women's Bible Study

[pucksandpower]

Have My Baby

Day 8 → Breeding Kink 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The sound of your laughter, bright and unguarded, echoes through the garage. Max watches from the other side, just close enough to see you kneel beside Checo’s daughter, the little girl’s giggles rising as you hand her a toy car. It’s a small moment — insignificant, even — but it lands in Max’s chest like a stone dropping into a still lake, sending ripples outward.

The race weekend buzzes around him, mechanics and engineers in perpetual motion, but for a second, all he can focus on is you, surrounded by Checo’s kids, your hair slipping from behind your ear as you make some silly face that sends them into peals of laughter.

“You’re good with them,” Max says later, sliding into the seat beside you in the car. He’s not looking at you, eyes instead fixed on the road, but his hand finds yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Hmm?” You ask, distracted as you scroll through your phone. You don’t look up, but your fingers tighten around his just a bit. It’s small, but he notices.

“Checo’s kids,” Max clarifies, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’re good with them.”

You shrug, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “They’re sweet. Just being kids.”

“They love you,” Max insists, a little more forcefully than he intended. Your eyebrows rise at his tone, curiosity flickering across your features, but you don’t push.

“They’re just kids,” you repeat, softer now, like you’re trying to placate him. “They don’t need much to be happy.”

Max falls silent after that, though his mind is far from quiet. He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, the warmth of your skin beneath his palm grounding him.

He’s been thinking about this for a while now — longer than he’d care to admit — but today, watching you with those kids, it’s like something clicked into place. A plan, half-formed but persistent, starts to take shape in the back of his mind. He squeezes your thigh absentmindedly, as if to reassure himself that you’re real, here with him.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask, breaking the silence as you lean back in your seat. You tilt your head to the side, studying him with that familiar, unflinching gaze that always manages to strip away whatever walls he thinks he’s put up.

“Nothing,” Max lies, and you know it’s a lie, but you let it slide. He sees the way your eyes narrow, the briefest hesitation before you hum in response. But you don’t push further, instead turning your attention back to the passing cityscape as the car winds through the streets.

When you finally get back to the suite, the evening’s warmth lingers in the air, the low hum of the city just outside the windows. Max lets you walk in first, watching the way you kick off your shoes by the door and stretch your arms over your head. The hem of your shirt lifts just a bit, revealing a sliver of skin that he can’t help but stare at. You catch him looking, a smile tugging at your lips.

“What?” You ask, feigning innocence as you walk toward him. Your hands find their way to his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it,” Max says, not bothering to hide the hunger in his voice. His hands come up to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles against your skin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your eyes that betrays how much his words affect you.

Max doesn’t reply, just pulls you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, and you tilt your head back, giving him better access. He feels the way your breath hitches, the way your hands grip his shirt a little tighter, and it only makes him want you more.

“You’re tired,” he murmurs against your skin, though he doesn’t slow his kisses.

“Not too tired,” you reply, your voice a little breathless now as your fingers thread through his hair. You pull him closer, and he takes that as permission to lift you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed.

When he lays you down, he does it slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. His hands are steady as he undresses you, taking his time, savoring the sight of you beneath him. There’s a reverence in the way he moves, like he’s committing every detail to memory.

“You’re being gentle tonight,” you observe, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

“I like taking care of you,” Max replies simply. His voice is calm, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that makes you shiver.

“I like it too,” you admit, and the sincerity in your voice sends a warmth through his chest. You reach out to him, pulling him down until he’s hovering over you, his hands braced on either side of your head. Your lips brush against his, soft and teasing. “But you’re holding back.”

“I’m not,” he lies again, but this time, you don’t seem to notice the hesitation in his voice. He kisses you deeply, his hands tracing the curve of your body, and it’s enough to distract you, to make you forget the way he’s been acting strange all evening.

Max is careful, though. He’s calculated, making sure you’re so lost in the sensation of his lips against your skin, his hands exploring every inch of you, that you won’t catch on to his plan. He slides a pillow under your hips, and when you look up at him in question, he just smiles, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

You do as he says, letting your head fall back against the mattress, your body sinking into the softness of the bed. Max takes his time, kissing his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When he reaches your stomach, he lingers there, pressing gentle, lingering kisses to the soft skin.

“You’ll look beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, his voice so quiet that you almost don’t hear it.

“What?” You ask, half-dazed, your mind foggy from the pleasure he’s been giving you.

Max doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he continues kissing your stomach, his hands holding your hips in place as he murmurs against your skin, “You’ll look beautiful all full.”

You blink, trying to process his words, but your thoughts are hazy, your body too lost in the moment to fully comprehend what he’s saying. Max’s lips move lower, and any questions you had melt away as he pulls you deeper into the sensation, your mind going blissfully blank.

Max’s voice is soft but firm as he murmurs against your skin, “We’re going to have a baby.”

It’s not a question. It’s not even a statement. It’s a command, one that leaves no room for debate. His tone, so certain and unyielding, sends a shiver through you. Your mind tries to catch up, tries to process what he’s just said, but it’s difficult. The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy and undeniable.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that’s settled over your thoughts. “Max, we can’t-”

“We can,” he interrupts, his voice still gentle but carrying an edge of finality. He looks up at you from where he’s still kissing your stomach, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re perfect for it.”

“But I’m too young,” you protest, though your voice falters as he starts to rub slow circles over your clit. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

“You’re perfect,” he repeats, his fingers skillfully teasing your most sensitive spot, drawing a moan from your lips despite the confusion clouding your mind. “You’re perfect for this, liefje.”

“I don’t know,” you try again, though the words are barely audible now, your body betraying you as it reacts to his touch. “It’s too soon.”

Max’s hand moves lower, his fingers brushing over your entrance, spreading your slickness with deliberate, teasing strokes. “It’s not too soon,” he coos, his voice dripping with reassurance. “I know what’s best for you. For us.”

His thumb returns to your clit, pressing down just right, and you gasp, your hips bucking up toward his hand. Any resistance you had starts to melt away, your body responding to him in ways your mind can’t seem to control.

“You’ll look so beautiful,” Max continues, his tone soothing and hypnotic as his fingers work you over. “All full and round with my baby. Your pussy …” He trails off, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit again, sending a rush of warmth through your core. “It’ll be so puffy and pretty for me.”

You’re lost now, any coherent thought slipping through your fingers like sand as his words and his touch weave a spell around you. All you can do is feel, every nerve in your body attuned to the pleasure he’s giving you, the heat building steadily in your belly.

“Max …” you breathe, your voice trembling, unsure if you’re pleading with him to stop or to keep going. It doesn’t matter; he’s already made up his mind.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs wider to accommodate him. He lines himself up with your entrance, his tip pressing against you, but he doesn’t push in yet. He wants you to feel it, to crave it.

“Tell me you want it,” Max demands, his voice low and rough with desire. “Tell me you want to be full of me.”

You bite your lip, torn between the part of you that knows this is happening too fast and the part of you that’s completely under his spell, desperate for more. His fingers return to your clit, stroking in slow, torturous circles, and you whimper, the last of your resistance crumbling.

“I want it,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it’s enough for him.

Max doesn’t waste any more time. He pushes into you slowly, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. The stretch is delicious, the fullness overwhelming, and you moan loudly, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you.

“You’re so tight,” Max groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move, each thrust deliberate and deep. “So perfect for me. You’ll be even better when you’re carrying our baby.”

The thought of it, the image he paints with his words, sends a thrill of arousal through you, and you can’t help but arch into him, meeting his thrusts. Your mind is a haze of sensation, every nerve alight with pleasure as he takes you, owns you.

Max’s pace quickens, and you can feel him getting closer, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he drives into you. “You’re going to take all of it,” he growls, the intensity of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re going to be so full, schatje. So full of me.”

He pushes deeper, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate, and you can feel your own climax building, the tension coiling tight in your belly. You’re teetering on the edge, so close, and then Max reaches down, his thumb finding your clit again, rubbing it with just the right pressure.

You come undone with a cry, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. Max follows you over the edge, groaning your name as he fills you, his release hot and overwhelming inside you. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop thrusting until he’s sure every drop of him is deep inside you.

When he finally stills, he leans over you, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. His hand moves to your lower belly, pressing down gently, and you gasp as you feel the fullness inside you.

“You’re going to be so beautiful,” Max whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “I can’t wait to see you, all full and round with our baby.”

He pulls out slowly, and you whimper at the emptiness, at the way his seed threatens to spill out. But Max is there, his fingers quickly pushing anything that dares to leak out back in, making sure nothing is wasted.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your trembling thigh. “I’ll make sure you stay full.”

***

The room is bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, and the curtains flutter slightly from the breeze coming through the open window. It’s peaceful, quiet, but the atmosphere is thick with anticipation.

You’re propped up against a mountain of pillows on the bed, your swollen belly stretching the fabric of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It’s one of Max’s shirts, soft and worn from years of use, and it drapes over you, barely containing the fullness of your body.

Max stands at the foot of the bed, eyes dark and intense as he looks at you. He’s shirtless, his skin glowing in the warm light, and there’s a possessive hunger in his gaze that’s never really gone away, not since the day you first told him you were pregnant.

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch your belly, his fingers tracing the curve of it with a reverence that makes your heart skip a beat. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

You smile, though it’s strained, the weight of the baby pressing down on you making every movement feel like an effort. “I’m huge,” you say with a breathless laugh, trying to deflect the intensity of his gaze. But Max shakes his head, his hand still resting on your belly.

“You’re perfect,” he insists, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

Your heart flutters at his words, but you can’t help the slight wince that crosses your face as the baby shifts inside you, pressing uncomfortably against your ribs. Max notices immediately, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, though your voice is a little tight. “Just … ready for this baby to be out.”

Max’s eyes darken even further at that, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your belly. “Soon,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “And then …”

He trails off, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile as he looks up at you, his hand sliding down to rest between your thighs. “And then I’m going to fill you again,” he continues, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Again and again, until it takes. And then I’ll do it again, until you’re always full with my child.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a shiver running through you despite the warmth of the room. The sheer possessiveness in his voice, the certainty with which he speaks, sends a rush of arousal through you, even as your body aches with the strain of carrying his child.

Max notices the way you respond, the way your body tenses and relaxes under his touch, and he smiles, that slow, satisfied smile that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His fingers tease along the edge of your panties, just barely grazing your skin, and you can’t help the small whimper that escapes your lips.

“Do you like that idea?” Max asks, his voice deceptively gentle. “Being full of me, over and over?”

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice, but it’s difficult with the way he’s looking at you, with the way his hand is slowly inching higher, closer to where you need him most. “Max …”

“Tell me,” he presses, his fingers finally brushing over your clit through the fabric of your panties. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your hips jerking involuntarily toward his hand. “Tell me you want it.”

“I … I want it,” you whisper, your voice trembling. Your body is aching, every nerve on fire, but he’s barely touched you, barely given you anything. It’s maddening, and you can feel the desperation building inside you, the need for release, for him, growing stronger with every passing second.

Max’s smile widens, his thumb circling your clit slowly, teasingly. “What do you want, liefje?” He asks, his tone almost mocking in its sweetness. “Tell me.”

You bite your lip, trying to resist the urge to just beg him to touch you, to give you what you need. But he’s relentless, his fingers moving in slow, agonizing circles, keeping you on the edge but never quite pushing you over.

“I want … I want to be full,” you finally gasp out, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate rush. “I want to be full of you, always.”

Max’s eyes flash with satisfaction, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your swollen belly. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride and something darker, something possessive. “You’ll always be so beautiful, all puffy and swollen with my baby.”

His words send another shiver through you, your body responding instinctively to the promise in his voice. He slides your panties down your legs, his hands gentle but firm, and you can feel your pulse quicken, your heart pounding in anticipation.

When he spreads your legs wider, his eyes fixed on the sight of you, so wet and ready for him, you can’t help but squirm, the need for him almost unbearable. “Please, Max,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please.”

“Not yet,” Max replies, his voice a low growl as he watches you, his gaze heated and intense. “I want to hear you say it again.”

You bite back a frustrated whimper, but you know he won’t give in until he gets what he wants. He never does. “I want to be full of you,” you repeat, your voice a little stronger this time. “I want you to fill me, Max. Over and over.”

He seems satisfied with that, and he finally, finally, slides his fingers inside you, his touch both gentle and commanding. The sensation is overwhelming, and you moan loudly, your body arching up toward him, desperate for more.

Max watches you intently, his fingers moving in and out of you with a steady, deliberate rhythm that drives you wild. “You’re so perfect like this,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing down on your clit again, making you gasp. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You’re trembling now, every muscle in your body taut with tension, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. “Max, please,” you beg, your voice breaking on the last word. “I need …”

“I know what you need,” Max interrupts, his voice dark and soothing. “I know what’s best for you.”

His fingers move faster, deeper, and you cry out, your hips bucking up toward him as your orgasm crashes over you, sudden and intense. Max doesn’t stop, though, his fingers continuing to work you over as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“You’re going to give me another one,” he murmurs, his voice filled with certainty. “Another baby. Another perfect child. And then another. And another.”

You can barely think, barely breathe, but the thought of it, of being so full of him, of carrying his children again and again, sends another wave of pleasure crashing through you. “Yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “Yes, Max.”

“That’s my girl,” Max says, his voice filled with satisfaction as he leans down to kiss you deeply, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace. “You’re going to look so beautiful. Always full of my children.”

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, and you whimper at the loss, but he’s not done. He slides inside you slowly, filling you completely, and you moan, your body shuddering from the intensity of it all.

Max moves with deliberate precision, his thrusts deep and slow, each one pushing you closer to the edge again. He’s relentless, driving you higher and higher, until you’re trembling, gasping for breath, completely at his mercy.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough with possession. “Mine to fill. Mine to keep. You’re going to give me everything, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your voice breaking as he drives into you harder, deeper, the pleasure almost too much to bear. “Yes, Max, I’m yours.”

He groans, the sound raw and primal, and you can feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more desperate, more urgent. “You’re going to be so full of me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “So fucking full.”

And then he’s coming, his release hot and overwhelming inside you, filling you completely, just like he promised. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull out, just stays there, buried deep inside you as he catches his breath.

When he finally does pull out, you’re trembling, your body spent and exhausted, but there’s a deep, satisfied warmth in your chest, knowing that you’re his, completely and utterly his.

Max leans down to kiss you again, his hand resting on your swollen belly. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against your lips. “So perfect.”

You smile, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace. “I love you,” you murmur, your voice soft and content.

“I love you too,” Max replies, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. “And I can’t wait to do this all over again.”

You know he means it, and as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of peace, knowing that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

[soft4gguk]

yearning | jjk one shot

the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...

Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb 

Content: porn with loads of plot!

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever. 

Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

The moment you exit the club, a gust of summer breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.

Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself. 

It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.

The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people. 

You think of him. 

It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close. 

A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter. 

Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another. 

“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too. 

The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call. 

You check the time. 

2:32 A.M.

~

Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with. 

Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know. 

“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”

Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh. 

“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”

At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.

“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore. 

He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.

He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being. 

Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone. 

He gets it now – the pull. 

From ___: jungkookie, u awake?

To ___: no

From ___: can I call?

He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you. 

~

Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?

You cut to the chase. 

“What are you up to?”

There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”

He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.

“You? It sounds busy in there.”

“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”

“Fun night?”

“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes. 

“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”

Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.

“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now. 

“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”

“Will you show me your cat?”

There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, that too.”

~

You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter. 

Yearning. 

He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it. 

Yeah – yearning. 

“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away. 

“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?

“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how. 

He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now. 

“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”

You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.

“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”

Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them. 

“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer. 

“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life. 

“Yeah, me too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome. 

It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass. 

What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from. 

“You hungry, baby?”

“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face. 

“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”

“I prefer Bamie anyways.” 

You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side. 

“Come here, baby.”

He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears. 

“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.” 

You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.

Never you. 

You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you. 

Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat. 

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”

“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question. 

“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Mean.”

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

You smile. “Okay, daddy.”

~

It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really? 

“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.

“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”

His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”

“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?” 

“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”

You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count. 

You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out. 

You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom. 

All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,

“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”

He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him. 

“You sure?”

“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him. 

“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”

“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.

“Mm.”

He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again. 

“Feed me.”

“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours. 

“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”

He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“With me. Yes. Just me.”

His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same. 

“Yeah. I am.”

“I am with you, too.”

“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his. 

“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”

You shrug. 

“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”

“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.

“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”

You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.” 

As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet. 

~

The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment. 

So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in. 

Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen. 

“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”

“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be here.” 

You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years. 

You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.

You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”

“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close. 

And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.

“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him. 

“I needed this,” you admit.

“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”

You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”

He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours. 

“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him. 

“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly. 

You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now. 

“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back. 

“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit. 

Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm. 

He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him. 

He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again. 

He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away. 

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough. 

“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at. 

“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully. 

You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go. 

“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure. 

You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.” 

“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again. 

Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive. 

“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock. 

“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.” 

Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ. 

You hum. “Thinking about what?”

He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”

You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game. 

He said he’d never forget that day. 

“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say. 

“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”

“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”

“Yeah, baby, come here.”

You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh. 

“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. So much.”

You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.

“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter. 

“Of course you don’t.”

“I’m an awful top.”

“You’re not a top.”

“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.

“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”

“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap. 

“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips. 

“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind. 

“Behave.”

Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.

“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his. 

“Fuck, I love your pussy.”

“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips. 

It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited. 

Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably. 

“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest. 

“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall. 

He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you. 

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away. 

“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper. 

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.

You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too. 

~

You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down. 

Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior. 

His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts. 

“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.” 

You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

~

[thef1diary]

I just watched the f1 never have I ever video and Charles says that he has missed a flight and it was his fault that he missed it so can you write a smut piece where he was with reader and he lost track of time? 😉😏

Dangerous Distraction | C. Leclerc

Summary: Charles misses his flight because of you

warnings: 18+ smut, oral (fem receiving), slight overstimulation

pairing: charles x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

“never have I ever missed a flight?”

CL: “I have, more than once”

“was it your fault?”

CL: “oh yeah, yeah”

You were sprawled out on the plush bed, wrapped in a soft comforter as you watched Charles packing his suitcase with a determined focus. He moved around the room, trying to neatly fold his clothes before placing them in his suitcase. As time went on, his crisp folds turned into a pile of rumpled clothes that will surely have creases when he would unpack them on the other side of the world.

He couldn't maintain his focus on the mundane task; his gaze kept drifting toward you, especially when you shifted in bed, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of your bare legs.

"Need any help?" you teased, your voice soft and inviting.

Charles paused, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes locked onto yours. "You're a dangerous distraction," he murmured, abandoning his suitcase to walk over to the bed.

You smiled, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him closer. "Maybe you need a break," you suggested seductively.

Charles climbed up onto the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss. Moaning into his mouth, you could taste a mix of mint and something uniquely Charles. His hands moved to the edge of the comforter, pulling it down to reveal more of your bare skin.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze trailing down your body. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered, watching goosebumps rise on your skin as he trailed his fingers down your chest, hardening your nipples with a delicate touch.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, the warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you responded eagerly, your hands roaming over his chest and back.

"You're impossible to resist," he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and filled with desire.

"Then don't resist," you replied, your voice a husky invitation that he didn't think twice before accepting.

Charles eyes darkened with lust as he lowered himself beside you, his hands exploring every inch of your body. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as his fingers traced a path down your side. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he found all the places that made you shiver with pleasure.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense as he looked at you. "I should be packing," he said, though his voice lacked any real conviction.

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. "You have some free time."

He hummed, "and I plan to make the most of it." He trailed featherlight kisses down your throat, not leaving an inch of skin untouched.

He claimed your lips again in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming all over your body with a sense of urgency. You melted into his touch, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him even closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more fervent as the minutes ticked by unnoticed.

He pulled back to quickly strip off his clothes before pressing a kiss to your stomach. Charles' hands parted your thighs as he settled between them. Licking, sucking, and kissing your inner thighs, he teased you mercilessly, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"Charles," you moaned, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He glanced up at you, his eyes dark with desire, before finally giving you some relief by directing his attention to your pussy. His tongue flicked out to taste you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

He took his time, alternating between gentle licks and firm strokes. His lips and tongue drove you wild, your hands clutching at the sheets below you and your hips arched off the bed as he brought you closer to the edge.

"Please," you begged, your tone barely higher than a whisper.

Charles smiled against you, his tongue working faster, more insistently. You felt yourself teetering on the brink, every nerve alight with sensation. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he spread your folds using two of his fingers and licked up a final stripe before sucking hard on your clit, sending you spiralling into a powerful orgasm.

You cried out, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Charles didn't stop, his mouth continuing the relentless movements while he slipped his fingers inside your pussy. The dual sensation was almost too much to bear, leaving you torn between pulling away and arching into the overwhelming pleasure.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you with a skillful rhythm, curling them just right to hit the sweet spot deep inside. Each thrust of his fingers were accompanied by the tantalizing flicks of his tongue against your overstimulated clit. The combination drove you wild, your hips bucking against his hand as you sought more.

"Charles, baby," you gasped, your voice a breathless moan as you felt the tension building again, faster and more intense this time. Your fingers tangled in his hair again, pulling him closer as you rocked against his mouth.

He responded with a low moan of satisfaction, his fingers moving faster, more determined to push you over the edge. His free hand lifted your leg up over his shoulder while he added a third finger in your pussy, stretching you perfectly.

His tongue worked in harmony with his fingers, and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher.

"Yes, oh god, yes," you panted, your body trembling as you reached the precipice of another orgasm.

Charles didn't let up, his fingers curling inside you, mouth sucking and licking with a precision that drove you insane. You felt the wave building higher until it crashed over you with a devastating force. You cried out his name, your vision blurring as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

He continued to work you through it, his fingers slowing but never stopping, his mouth still pressing gentle kisses to your throbbing clit while lapping up all your cum. Finally, when you were utterly spent, he withdrew his fingers and moved up to cradle you in his arms.

He made a show of licking his lips before humming in delight. "You taste amazing, mon amour," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

You smiled, still catching your breath, your body humming with the aftershocks of your release. "Was that your parting present?"

Charles chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I think I can do better than that," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

Just as he leaned in to kiss you again, his eyes flicked to the clock on the nightstand. His expression changed instantly.

"Merde!" he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. "I completely lost track of time."

You followed his gaze to the clock and your eyes widened. "Charles, your flight!" you gasped, the reality sinking in.

He scrambled off the bed, grabbing his phone to see a couple missed calls from his manager. He quickly dialled back, pacing around the room until the line was connected.

"I'm so sorry, I got... distracted," he explained, hurriedly casting a sheepish grin in your direction.

You couldn't help but giggle as he spoke, realizing this was the first time Charles had potentially missed a flight because of you. You knew you should feel guilty, and perhaps you would later when the consequences set in, but in that moment, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss, you wouldn't have had it any other way.

Charles hung up, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. "Looks like I'll have to catch the next flight," he said, a hint of frustration in his tone knowing that he wouldn't be able to fly with any of his team members.

But then, his gaze softened as he looked at you, a small smile spreading across his face. "Not that I regret a single second."

You laughed, reaching out to pull him back to the bed. "Guess you'll have to stay here with me a little longer," you teased, running your fingers down his chest.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "You're insatiable," he murmured, his eyes filled with playful affection.

You grinned, your fingers tracing lower. "You've used your fingers and your tongue, but not your cock yet," you replied, your voice dripping with desire.

Charles' eyes darkens with lust at your words. "Is that a request?" he asked, his voice husky as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

"More like a demand," you whispered, pulling him in for a deep, hungry kiss.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @tellybearryyyy @nikfigueiredo @jointhehunt67 @bokutos-babyowl @sya-skies @charlesleclercsonlywife @dreamingonbed @wonnou @heylookwhoitis

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups. 

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

-

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

-

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

-

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

-

🏷️ @love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9

[flseur]

꒰ 𐙚 in for it — genshin men ꒱

⟡ synopsis : how genshin men eat you out, just to keep it brief

⟡ characters : wriothesley, neuvillette, al haitham

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, cunnilingus, face-sitting, fingering, office sex, teasing, praising, squirting

౨ৎ note : been in a writing mood recently and a wriothesley brain rot… sorry if it's shorter than usually, still trying to get used to writing smut but please enjoy ! ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

୨୧ WRIOTHESLEY

❥₊ ⊹ wriothesley was… messy when it came to eating pussy. to him, the messier the better. and the more messy you were on his face, the longer he was staying between your thighs.

right now, wriothesley was in bliss. your thighs locked around his head and your sweet cunt in his face, what could be better than this?

"sit down, sweetheart." he commands.

"are you sure? what if i suff-" you were cut off by a squeal, wriothesley's large hands grabbed at your ass, shoving you down on his face completely.

wriothesley licks one thick strip up your pussy, from your hole to your clit before his soft lips wrap around the bud and pleasure shoots up your spine.

"o-oh... oh my god..." you moan, your hands grab at the headboard of the bed tightly, your knuckles turning white. you begin to rock your hips lightly, still nervous about hurting your boyfriend.

until wriothesley pulls away, peeking out between your thighs, looking unimpressed. "if you're going to ride my face, fucking ride it." he demands. "use me, i'm all yours, baby." then he dives back into your pussy, slurping obnoxiously.

you hesitate briefly, then think about his words and begin to truly ride his face and crying out loud. your clit bumps deliciously on his nose and his tongue slithers it’s way into your hole.

your hands soon leave the wooden headboard and makes their way down to wriothesley’s inky locks, pulling at the hair. “ah! so good! mmph!”

he groans into your pussy. your slick and his saliva was everywhere. on his nose, his lips, and it was dripping down his chin. god how he loved you, loves your pussy, your tits, and he loved the way you were riding his face so desperately.

“that’s it… that’s my fucking girl…”

୨୧ NEUVILLETTE

❥₊ ⊹ “you’re a messy little thing, aren’t you?” neuvillette chuckled. you were currently sitting half-naked on the edge of his oak desk in the palais mermonia. just wearing your white blouse, your panties and skirt were discarded and thrown somewhere in the room, your bare pussy was dripping on the wood of the desktop.

"you usually don't tease..." you pout, looking down at your husband though his eyes didn't quite meet yours. instead they were trained on your cunt.

"sorry, love." though it doesn't truly sound like he is. neuvillette lowers to face your bare bottom, his lithe fingers come forward and pull apart the lips of your pussy.

"so beautiful..." he mumbles before his tongue meets your clit then travels down to your hole. his tongue thrusts into you and he tastes your slick on it. "so good..." he groans.

neuvillette then starts to eat you out like he's starved. his movements which are usually precise and calculated are now messy, and erratic. you've never quite felt heaven like this and neuvillette hadn't tasted heaven until the first time he ate you out.

your hands thread themselves in his hair as you moan out loud and they pull his head impossibly closer to your core. "oh! mmf!" and you feel tears begin to cloud your vision.

he didn't care that you were making a mess out of him, and he didn't care about how your arousal was all over his desk or all over his face.

though there is a sudden tightness in his pants, and it becomes more and more obvious to him, neuvillette continues to let you use his mouth. to let you reach that orgasm you oh so deserved because he wanted to be the cause of it.

୨୧ AL HAITHAM

❥₊ ⊹ “tsk… you’re such a distraction…” al haitham feigns annoyance. he brings his hands up to your thighs and pries them apart. "can't even read a book in peace around you, can i?"

"ah! 'm sorry... i just really needed you, al haitham." you mumble looking down your body and the view breathtaking.

al haitham had his head leaning against your left thigh, pressing open mouth kisses that were getting closer and closer to where you needed him most. while his left hand was rubbing lazy circles against your puffy clit.

"i can tell... you're dripping on the couch." he sighs. al haitham likes to act like he's bothered, when in reality he had already read that book more then ten times over for a research paper. he was secretly more than happy to please you, though he won't admit that outright.

al haitham leans down and presses a kiss to your pussy, then his lips wrap around your clit and begins to suck on it. he liked to take his time eating you out, to savour it. to savour you. and that meant not making your cunt a sopping mess until you beg him for it. but he won’t tease you all that much today seeing how badly you needed him.

you moan out, one hand of yours coming up and grabbing your own breast. "t-thank you. love you, love you so much al haitham!" you babble.

"love you too, baby..." he murmurs into your pussy. soon, his long fingers meet where his mouth is pleasuring you and they make their way into your little hole, thrusting in and out.

you swallow back a loud sob, remembering you're not entirely alone in your boyfriend's house, as if the sounds of al haitham eating up all your sloppy pussy has to offer isn't loud enough.

al haitham's fingers were making your head spin along with the way his tongue was moving over your clit. his digits were grazing that sweet spot inside of you and the sound of your hiccups only spur him on more.

"please, please! al haitham 'm gonna cum!" you sob.

"do it." he pulls back for a moment, "cum on my face..." then he dives back into your cunt, his tongue and fingers now working overtime to make you orgasm.

your hips begin to grind against his mouth and your chest heaves. "i-i'm cumming! oh my god!" you cry out as you orgasm, hot flashes of white makes it way across your abdomen and you make a mess everywhere. your arousal covered al haitham's face, his hands and your quivering thighs.

"you're so messy..." al haitham says as he moves up to your face.

"sorry..." you apologize.

"don't." he says sharply, not wanting you to feel bad. his lips then meet yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue. "we're going to do that again and this time, you're going to be louder."

flseur © all rights reserved, do not repost, take inspo from my layouts or themes, translate, or claim as your own.

[eightstarr]

at the count of three — ellie williams.

summary: how do you tell your best friend you’re in love with them? ellie has an answer! just be cool and wait for the right moment— and the next. and maybe another one, just to be sure. if you get impatient, you can always take a deep breath and count to three! (years, that is)

warnings: slow burn (childhood friends to lovers <3), little bit suggestive but no smut!

notes: born from a piece of dialogue i wrote like, a year ago and completely forgot about but somehow a week later it's 4k words? idk you're welcome or i'm sorry!!! also yes they do spend almost every scene sitting together on a couch but that's what lesbianism is all about...

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

ONE!

A movie plays on the TV, a slightly tarnished DVD of an 80’s action flick starring some oily guy and the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen— Ellie doesn't remember much other than an obnoxiously epic soundtrack and lingering shots that made the plot twist too obvious about 20 minutes in. 

She's freshly eighteen; you’re ahead only by a couple months. It's a warm Friday night, Joel and your dad in the kitchen putting scraps together for a mildly healthy dinner, Ellie sitting on the very opposite side of the couch from where you are. It’s hot, she'd said, looking away from your comically insulted face that grew with every scooch she made from your side, a lame excuse to save her from the newly found (and fucking torturous) fluttering that sparks in her stomach whenever she sits too close to you.

From the kitchen comes the sound of a can hitting the floor, followed by Joel’s 'shit!' and then quickly, 'sorry, girls'. You chuckle, turning to Ellie and catching her staring at you. A wrinkle forms between your eyebrows at the same time a pink warmth floods her cheeks. “Dude, you’re not even paying attention.”

“I am,” a scoff, her eyes now strictly committed to the screen. “The noise distracted me,” she adds, knowing it didn't even make her flinch from the careful study of your side profile.

“Scaredy cat— ow!” a pillow crashes against your cheek, sudden enough to shock you, too soft to do any real damage. “What the fuck?”

Ellie raises her eyebrows and looks at you from the corner of her eyes, a smirk half hidden by her hand. “Don’t be rude, you're missing the best scene.”

You throw the pillow back and scoff when she catches it, your lips slightly pursed, the signature sign to tell you’re annoyed. It's almost identical to the replica of that gesture that sits at the end of her last journal entry, an overly dedicated sketch born from a wandering thought. She could make it more accurate, she thinks now, soften the line of your jaw, take the scar on your cheek a little more to the left.

The sound of water splashing from the TV catches her attention and Ellie snaps her head forward (lest she get caught staring again), just as the blonde haired love interest is walking out of a fancy looking swimming pool.

“She’s hot,” you say, fingers pulling absentmindedly at loose threads on the rip of your jeans. When Ellie doesn't say anything, you turn to look at her, “You don't think so?”

Her voice comes out a higher pitch than she’d like. “What—” she clears her throat before continuing to mumble, “I don't know, I guess.”

You laugh. “You guess?” 

“Yeah, I— I don't know, dude, I wasn't thinking about that.”

You watch the nervousness on her face, the gulp that passes her throat, the red under her freckles. Fondness tugs at your chest and your voice softens just slightly, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God. Ellie, it’s okay,” green eyes find your face and she sees you hesitate for a second before you shrug. “Who cares? It's just me.”

You make it sound easy. It's the most distinct thing Ellie remembers about this moment, how suddenly safety felt like the most obvious thing. TV light on your face, your arm over the back of the couch, the same eyes she's been looking at since she was fourteen. Of course it's okay. Everything else with you is easy, why wouldn't this be the same?

Ellie shifts on the couch, the distance between you turning quickly ridiculous— offensive, even. She’s embarrassed to have let her flusteredness get in the way, but the urge to be closer doesn't feel right either. Everything she does feels like too much, everything she says too intense. “How long have you known?” she asks.

You tilt your head, less of a question and more of a guidance, “Known that you…”

Ellie parts her lips, unsure of whether or not she’s gonna say it or how, trying to will the words to come out. And they do, she remembers it well, because it was the first and maybe the only time she was this direct about it. “That I like girls.”

The smile on your face is teeth-rotting sweet, but she only gets to bask in it for a second before you widen your eyes and lower your voice to a scandalized whisper. “You what?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, cheeks burning, “Oh, fuck you.”

Your laugh fills up the room and the fluttering in her stomach feels absurd at this point, like she would actually be able to feel those annoying little butterflies flying around if she were to press her hand against her abdomen. “Sorry, sorry,” you say, and for a terrifying second Ellie thinks maybe they're loud too, and you’re able to hear them. But then she looks at you and forgets about it, easy easy easy. “It’s really okay. You know that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. For once, there's not a glimpse of doubt about it to be found.

You watch another ten minutes of the movie in silence before your dad's head peeks out from the kitchen to call you both to the table for dinner.

Ellie has a habit of eating like it's her last day on earth. When you were both new residents of Jackson, hungry and scared and not at all used to the idea of a full plate of food twice a day, she couldn't help it. And you were the same, hence why your dad thought it would be good for you and Ellie to spend time together, which quickly turned to being around each other basically every minute of every day. But as the weeks passed, you seemed to be learning to adapt faster. A younger Ellie found this frustrating— especially after that time Joel complimented your table manners.

You’re just… nicer, she remembers saying, a stressed frown on her still childlike face, fiddling with a box of marbles she’d found under her new bed. She remembers how you pulled one out, your fingers brushing against her own for the first time ever, and held the clear crystal with green stripes next to her eyes, a satisfied smile at a practically perfect match. You’re nice too, Els, you’d said, shrugging your shoulders, the marble shoved inside your pocket, I think I just lie better.

Until that moment, Ellie had never thought about it that way; the fact that you could be pretending to feel more confident and comfortable than you really are to make yourself safer, to get people to like you. But when she asked, you swore you had never lied to Ellie. She used to drive herself mad thinking about that, a strange, confusing worry gnawing at her chest— she likes that you don't feel the need to lie, but what does it say about how you see her? Is it that you don't care if she likes you? Or worse, is it that you know that she already does?

You sit in front of her today at the same dinner table, four years later, and watch her practically inhale her bowl of pasta like no time has passed at all. You let out a snort and Ellie wonders if you can see it even now, if her constant thoughts of you are obvious even when she looks this busy.

"What?" she asks, an immediate frown on her face, though she's done you the honor of swallowing her mouthful before speaking.

"You're so gross," you say, chin resting on your palm, tilting your head like you're looking at some thought provoking art piece. Ellie thinks you'll leave it at that, but then you reach over and swipe your thumb over the red spot of sauce next to the corner of her lips, so soft she barely feels it. You watch her frown soften for a second before it becomes even deeper.

Ellie feels like her whole body is exploding with warmth, too hot under the hoodie she's wearing, too pink across her face. It's so obvious, she thinks, it's so— fuck, pull it together. Her gaze follows your finger as you bring it to your lips and lick off the sauce. “You’re disgusting,” she retorts lamely, her hand rough when she brushes it over her mouth, lest you notice another stain and she has to watch you do that again.

You are familiarly not deterred by her meanness. Or her attempt at it. "And you eat like a five year old,” you shrug. “I guess we both have our issues."

Ellie catches herself staring at your hands for the rest of the meal, certain that she's never noticed them in the same way before. How much time has she been wasting? You both have your issues, you'd said, but Ellie thinks she has you beat. Yours can't possibly be anywhere near this dangerous.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

TWO!

Someone's knocking on her door. Ellie sniffles and lets out a groan as she gets up from the couch, sore throat, her limbs heavy and tired. She knows it's you because it's always the same three knocks; the first two firm and loud, a pause, and then one tiny one that sounds almost like 'sorry'. You’re impatient but still painfully afraid to be rude— if she loved you a little less, Ellie thinks she would make fun of it a lot more. But alas, she's cursed to smile at it every time.

She opens the door and the breeze that slips in makes her fall immediately into an embarrassing coughing fit. “It’s fine,” she mutters, at the same time you’re saying jesus christ, Ellie. “Shit. I’m okay,” she clears her throat and finally gets a moment to look at you, all pretty and put together in your best shirt and a freshly showered scent, the sun setting behind you like a perfect frame. Ellie prays her lungs don't betray her again and tries to make the brush of her hand over her messy hair look casual instead of desperate.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to the party with me for just a few minutes, but… I’m not sure you should be out of bed,” your worried frown is pretty, too. What a cruel fate. “Is Joel home? I can stay—”

“No, no, you’re good,” Ellie shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest like maybe it’ll cover up enough and you won't notice she was wearing the same long sleeve the last time you saw her. “He’ll be here in like, five minutes. I’ll be fine, ’m not a baby.”

You’re both nineteen by this time, Ellie remembers because you wore the same pretty blue shirt that you're wearing now for her birthday, and it was the day she realized her crush was no longer deniable. It's easier to act like nothing’s happening when she feels like she's alone in it, like there's no universe where you could love her like she loves you so she might as well let the fantasy die— but then you put on your shirt that's reserved for special occasions just to come over and bring her the cupcake you made, and suddenly Ellie can picture herself with her hands on each side of your waist, pulling you close, saying thank you with her lips brushing against yours before she kisses you. She can see it so clearly that it startles her, changes everything. Her birthday comes with a punch to the gut and a hunger she wants to tell you and only you about.

“You’re not gonna be bored? I really don't mind staying until he gets home.”

Ellie thinks (dramatically, extremely nineteen—) that if she lets you take care of her, she might actually die. It felt like she almost did last time you visited, your face serious with concentration as you pressed the back of your hand against her forehead. ‘You're warm’, you said, ‘do you feel sweaty?’ Ellie stared up at you, eyes glossy and heavy from sleep. ‘Not really’, her fingers sneaked out from under the blanket to wrap themselves around your forearm, a moment of bravery or delusion, ‘your hand feels nice’. You chuckled, ‘okay, keep it’.

She’s less feverish today, but not yet recovered from the greedy voice in her head that begs her to keep you close. If you don't go to the party now, she thinks (knows) that she’ll let herself casually talk you into staying the rest of the night. “Nah, don't miss your party,” she says. “I’ll be okay, Joel’s gonna teach me how to play that old card game.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you're gonna argue all night.”

“No— what?” Ellie scoffs. “It’ll be good, I learn fast.”

“Yeah, because you make up your own rules.”

“I have questions about the rules, that's not the same thing.”

“It is if you cheat—”

“I’m not a cheater!”

You hum, a curious tilt of your head, and Ellie rolls her eyes before the words are even out of your mouth. “No, I guess you’d have to have a girlfriend for that.”

You watch her run her tongue over her teeth, her shoulder against the door frame. “You know I could say the same to you, right?”

“Too bad I said it first,” you shrug, pretty smile stretching your lips. “I guess I'll go, then. I’ll come over when it's done so you don't miss me too much.”

Ellie tries to maintain her composure. You know, she thinks, do you know? You must know. You can't know— “Right. Also so you can steal my food and crash in my bed, I’m guessing.”

“When you’re all vulnerable and weak? What do you think of me, Ellie?” you frown sadly, a hand over your heart.

“I think I know you,” she says, the corner of her lips lifting just a little, inescapably.

You walk to the gate and turn around as you close the lock, your hands on either side of your mouth as if she’s miles and miles away. “I’ll take the couch!”

“Yeah, sure!” Ellie yells back, her voice pretty even when it's hoarse, knowing she’ll hold on for just about ten minutes before she insists you take the bed instead.

Joel stays awake with her until around 10pm, when his yawns become too many to hide and he’s already let Ellie win three games, his smile genuine and wide while she chuckles and pretends she doesn’t notice. He leaves her with a tupperware of soup for tomorrow’s lunch and a deck of cards. To teach your friends or— I don't know, keep on the coffee table, he’d said, make you look cool. Ellie’s not sure you would find a box of cards ‘cool’, but she’s not above trying.

Ever since she moved out to the garage, she’s discovered a new type of stress at the notion of having you over. At Joel’s house, all she ever did to prepare for guests was pick up the dirty clothes from her bedroom floor and put her books in a (wobbly) single pile. Now things are different. The garage is small, but it's all hers— her floor, her living room, her kitchen. She can't have you thinking that she can't take care of things on her own.

She spends the next hour moving things around until finally, two loud knocks. A second passes; Ellie looks at the cards and considers shoving them inside one of the drawers on her desk. By the time the one quiet knock comes, she shrugs and decides to leave them on the coffee table, lest Joel was right and she misses a chance to have you start thinking she's cool and mysterious. “It's open,” she says from the couch, tiredness soon catching up with her after all that time rearranging things.

The door opens and you come in, quickly closing it behind you, a relieved sigh at the loss of that crisp, cold breeze outside. “Did Joel forget those?” you ask, bent at the waist as you take your shoes off, your chin pointing at the deck, the only thing on the coffee table. Maybe she should've been more subtle with it.

“Uh, no,” Ellie scratches the back of her neck, her legs stretched across the couch. “They’re a gift.”

She's not sure you hear her over the groan you make as you stretch your arms above your head, her legs moved to the side automatically to make space for you to sit. You fall down with a sigh and both forget about the cards— you, distracted by the warm tingly feeling of a couple drinks, and Ellie by the new jacket you’re wearing.

She lets a million different scenarios spin around her head for a couple seconds before she blurts out the question. “Whose is that?”

“What?” you turn your head away from the movie playing on the TV.

“The jacket.”

“Oh,” you look down at yourself as if you’ve just remembered it’s there. “Maya was leaving too, so she walked here with me. It’s hers.”

Ellie hums, her back sliding a little further down the couch, legs spread. “Stinks like it’s hers.”

You chuckle before you can help it, her animosity ridiculous and charming— Ellie’s better with actions than she is with words. “I don't even know what you're talking about,” you shake your head, not quite slurring, but not too far from it either. "She smells like strawberries."

Fuck Maya and her strawberry shampoo. Ellie could get some if she wanted to, maybe if she traded— what the fuck is she thinking about? She rolls her shoulders back and pushes the thoughts away, gluing her eyes to the screen. “Sure,” she says, less because she agrees and more because she doesn't wanna hear what else you like about Maya. “You had fun, then?”

“It was alright. You didn't miss out on too much,” the end of your sentence stretched out by a yawn, you cover your mouth lazily and rest back fully against the couch. “Jesse was drunk. They had to stop him from getting up on a table.”

Ellie chuckles. “I don't know, maybe he had something to say. I think I would’ve let him.”

“That's what I said,” you smile and let your head fall to the side, your cheek against the cushion. She feels you staring, enables it for a while by acting oblivious, falsely over-invested in some movie she can't remember the title of. She hears you move closer before she feels it— the shuffle of your clothes, the stupid jacket rubbing against her couch, so easily forgettable by the time your temple falls on her shoulder.

Ellie's about to fall asleep when she hears the little noise you make, something like a sniffle. For a worrying second she thinks she might’ve given you her cold, but then she feels the tip of your nose brush against her shoulder and she realizes you’re trying to breathe her in. 

“You always smell nice,” you whisper, half asleep.

Ellie swallows and prays to keep her body completely still, scared she’ll make the wrong move and have you pull away, scared you’ll lean closer and be able to hear the fast beating on her chest. She sounds breathy, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Like fresh rain.”

Slow like the roll of credits playing on the TV, Ellie feels how every muscle in her body settles down, relaxed, content— fucking cocky. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and hopes the scent will rub off on the jacket and remind Maya of a cloudy autumn night, rain over her garden.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

THREE!

"Do you think we would've liked each other?" you ask, your legs resting on her lap while she fidgets mindlessly with the ruffled cuff of your socks. Every patrol lately ends the exact same way, a quiet walk home and a joint on Ellie’s couch. "Back when the world was normal?”

Ellie turns to look at you, blinking lazily, a reddish hue over her green. You’re not sure if she's more tired or high, but either way you're not doing much better— everything you’ve said during the past hour is the kind of thought you have when you're alone at night and your brain wanders, moments away from falling asleep. It's a meaningless question, but Ellie lets out a soft hum and thinks about it like it's worth considering. You're not sure if anyone you’ve met in your whole twenty years of life is as willing to indulge you as she is.

"Yeah," she says decidedly, in the same tone with which one would say duh. "We—" a yawn cuts her off, slender hand rubbing one of her eyes. "We would be friends, like, in college."

"I wouldn't be in college.”

Ellie frowns, takes one last inhale and discards the joint to the ashtray on her coffee table. "Why not?"

"'Cause I'm not smart like you," you shrug.

The fold between her eyebrows deepens. "You're smart," she argues, with enough conviction that you almost believe her, insisting, "You are."

"In other ways, sure—” Ellie opens her mouth to interrupt but you get ahead of her, “I’m not trying to talk badly about myself, I just don't think college would be for me.”

You’ve never been the most disciplined. It’s hard to imagine yourself staying up late to study, taking diligent notes in class. It feels ridiculous.

“I’d be working somewhere, I think. Making coffee for people or something.”

Ellie pauses before she nods, adjusting her daydream to what you’re saying, strangely committed. "Then we would meet there,” she makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world, a natural equation. “I'd go get coffee from you."

You chuckle. "You don't even like coffee that much."

Ellie shrugs, soft pink lips curved in a smirk that tells you she's sleepy and serves to warn you of the horror that's about to come out of her mouth.

You groan. “Don't—”

"Maybe I like the pretty girl that's making it."

“Awful,” you push her shoulder away, barely any force behind it, her giggles swimming comfortably around your head. “Never speak again.”

"Not my best work?" she asks, her fingers wrapping lazily around your shin. Too much, her brain warns, but then she remembers the pad of your finger over the back of her hand last night, the cursive lines with no purpose other than to be touching her— and it feels right, or like it's not enough. Too much soon turns to coward.

"Possibly your worst.”

She might be going crazy, but lately Ellie feels like you’re looking at her differently. In your eyes there's something gentle, awaiting, a tracing of your eyes over her face that says please. She chews on her lip, her eagerness painful. “We would like each other,” she doesn't think there's a world where you wouldn't, and if there was… "I'd make you like me."

You raise your eyebrows, teasing, "Oh, so like now?"

Her lips part with genuine surprise, more amused than offended. “...I made you, huh?” 

You regret the joke as soon as it comes out of your mouth, immediately brought back to your fourteen year old self, lonely and admittedly captivated by the auburn haired girl from next door. Flashes of you rushing to catch up with her, untied laces on your too tight sneakers, Ellie, do you wanna be friends? The sound of pages shuffling and her voice reading in whispers in the dead of night because you asked, can you talk to me until I fall asleep? Infatuated from the beginning, obsessed. Even now, on her couch, after spending a whole day together— do you like me? Would you like me, always?

A pillow crashes against the side of her face, her laugh almost louder than the embarrassed pounding of your heart. You pull your legs from her lap and lie back, fold your arms over your face. “You're so annoying.”

A lie so obvious it makes Ellie smile. She shifts to crawl closer, one knee on either side of you. “C’mon, I was joking,” she leans forward and you feel her knuckles tap your arm like she’s knocking on a door. The power to make you shy is still foreign to her, makes her feel drunk, thrilled. She doesn't remember having it before, but of course it was there. In little ways, in daily, simple things. Your eyes always looking for her first in any room, lighting up even after an especially bad pun, tracing her arms when the day becomes too hot to keep her jacket on. You like her, of course. How much time has she been wasting? The breath she lets out feels like it's been waiting to be let go, years spent stuck in her lungs. Ellie wraps her fingers around one of your wrists, her voice sweet, achingly soft. “Want me to tell you why I know I’d like you?”

You lower your arms just slightly, eyes peering up at her.

“Yeah?” she tilts her head.

You nod, arms coming down, unusually quiet.

Ellie grins, victorious. “Okay, but fair warning— it's worse than the coffee thing.”

You chuckle. “Is it?”

“Very.”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think about it, distracted by the vision of her practically sitting on top of you. Freckled face framed by the hair that's escaped her usual bun, softly lit by the warmth of the lamp on her desk. “Alright,” you say finally.

It takes Ellie a second to respond, momentarily dazed by the thought of being pretty enough for you to ogle like this. She clears her throat. “You ready?”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and away from her eyes. “Sure.”

Ellie waits for the nerves to come, but even as she parts her lips to speak, they never do. What a kind fate. “I know I’d like you because nothing’s ever made more sense to me— I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. I like you enough for a million lifetimes.”

You look at each other, bask in a moment of understanding. Your eyes on her lips, a hand on her waist that pulls her closer. “That was worse,” you agree.

Ellie moves to rest on her forearms, cages you in, her nose brushing against yours. “I told you.”

She waits, feels herself count once again, a final time, one, two—

A hand against the back of her neck brings her in and the quiet noise of her surprise vibrates against your lips, makes her smile into the kiss for just a second before the hunger takes over. Her hips readjusting over yours, knees pressing against your sides, Ellie kisses like it's a need rather than a whim. She takes and takes and swallows every sigh you make like it's a gift, four, five, six seconds of a messy trail of kisses down your neck to say thank you before she resurfaces again.

“Love you,” she breathes out, because suddenly all that talk about ‘like’ feels stupid— immature, incomparable to what she actually feels for you. “Need you.”

You moan against her lips and it's her favorite sound in the whole world, immediately, as quick as realizing she would fall in love with you the day she met you. “Love you, Ellie.”

A kiss to your clavicle, your hands pulling at her shirt and her thigh between yours. She makes you say it three more times.

[marsprincess889]

Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty, immortality, eternal love.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon, Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety, hunting.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, prophecies, the oracle, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep, agriculture.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, tradition, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, smoke, big hair(like the lion's mane).

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions, indulgence.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gain through partnerships, self-expression through relationships, wife/girlrfiend material, harvest, family associations, marriage associations.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, family business, the perfect male stereotype, the "rich heiress running away" trope, wheat, gold, power couples.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches, scammers.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques, tricks.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology, the Sims.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike, mint color for some reason.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding, movement.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses, propaganda.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too), the evil advisor/black cardinal trope.

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement, honor and glory.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, knight orders, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters, deep sea and its creatures, wings.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth, parenthood, the guide, guidance, individuation.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, herding, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything, light and soft shades of green and blue.

[absfawn]

ㅤㅤㅤ— 🎀 cockwarming lawyer!abby 𐚁 18+

ㅤdaily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post

she’s tried so hard to focus on her work. focus mainly and solely on a new case— a case that she has wanted for months, and has finally been given the all go to take it. have at it. make it hers. but she made the mistake of working on it with you at home. she can smell your fruity perfume from here. the perfume she could spend hours smelling on your neck when she’s kissing and biting you there. can practically taste the cherry chapstick on your lips. the same one you’ve always used. she still remembers the first time you kissed and refused to let you change it. you didn’t have work today, so it was your lazy day. lounging around the apartment. catching up on your TV shows. making a new dish you had seen in your cookbook later than evening, if you wished to.

“baby?”

you hummed from the living room— or you said something, she wasn’t really sure. she sure as hell wasn’t paying any attention if you had spoken, abby was more focused on the way you licked your fingers after each strawberry you picked up from the container, and ate it. moaning at the taste. moans that always had her head spinning, no matter what the occasion was.

“can you come here? please?” god was she actually already begging? yes. did she care? apparently not. she just needed to feel you. hold you. hell, even look at you.

unbuttoning her suit jacket like she had suddenly gotten hit with a massive heat wave just from watching you, abby heaved out a quiet sigh, and leaned back in her chair. just in time to spot you walking over to her. smiling mischievously and finishing the last strawberry.

“what’s up?” came your soft voice. fingers threading through her soft blonde hair, nails scratching comfortingly at her scalp. your body melted into her touch when she’s wrapping her arms around your legs, and pulling you into her lap. your lips parting quickly with a gasp when you can feel the strap in her pants, that she always insisted on wearing just in case, against your cunt. “abs—” 

“need to feel you” was she drunk? “please. just—” god she was so weak for you. so weak for everything and anything you did that she would do anything for you. “let me feel you” she murmured, her blue— hooded eyes meeting your slightly wide yet sparkling ones and she couldn’t keep her hands in one place when you smiled down at her. 

“wouldn’t that be distracting for you, Miss Anderson?” you truly were a tease, weren’t you?

“don’t care, need to feel you” was all she said, lustfully. horny. 

her eyes watched you like a hawk. like she always did really. she never wanted to miss anything. first they trailed over the slice of your nose, to the way your lips twitched, almost into a smile at her eagerness of needing you. to your soft eyes that looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

god you were truly such a beauty. 

if she had spent any more time looking at your face, she would have missed the way you climbed off her lap, grinned at the way she bites down on her lip when you looped your fingers into the thin material of your panties and pulled them down, still maintaining eye contact. you were aware of how much that drove her crazy. “are you sure this won’t distract you? you could never really focus on anything else when i would sit on your cock, baby” you lifted your shoulders up in a small shrug, biting back a smirk when all abby did was scoff. “okay well, don’t blame me if you get none of your work done” 

abby rolled her eyes, and threw her head back slightly. the action had her completely missing you kicking your panties— oblivious to the wet patch on them, to the side, but she didn’t miss the way your fingers fumbled with her belt. the sight was enough to always have her losing all remaining cool. especially when you’d sit on your knees, giggle and wink up at her. 

her breath hitched in her throat when you climbed back on her onto her lap. the shirt you were wearing— most probably hers, rolled up just slightly and her hands quickly found home on your thighs, stroking your skin with her thumbs slowly. “just—”

“abigail, if you tell me how to sit on your cock, i will get dressed, go out for dinner alone and leave you here to finish your work” you warned, squinting your eyes down at her.

“right, m’sorry” the blonde nodding, a blush coating the apples of her cheeks at your words. what the fuck was going on? how is she the one that’s shy right now?

those blue eyes flicker to your face when you’re placing one of your hands on her broad shoulders, and for a second abby can’t fucking breathe when she turns her head slightly at the perfect time to find you dribbling a thick glob of spit on the tip of the silicone, giggling under your breath and using your other hand to spread it around. “fuck” her voice suddenly breaking the longer she watched.

her hands were quick to sit higher on your hips, while one of yours gripped her shoulder tightly when you’re running the tip of the silicone through your folds, lips parting with soft gasps, and all abby can do is just fucking stare. watch you rub it back and forth a few times, nudging it against your hole before you chuckle, your eyes flicking up to hers. you were teasing her. you knew how much she loved to see you sinking down on her cock, and you weren’t giving her what she has wanted since she got home.

“sorry, baby. you just look really cute when you’re flustered and impatient” you giggled, placing a kiss right between the crease of her eyebrows, and sinking on her strap slowly. sucking in deep breaths at the stretch. 

you were going to be the death of her one day.

your face was hot, forehead already starting to trickle with sweat when she whispered soft ‘it’s okay’ and ‘take your time’ into your ear. her bigger hands ran up and down your thighs, squeezing at your skin gently, and feathered kisses up and down your neck. as much as she needed to just to feel you close, she never rushed you.  you were right about one thing though, was she going to be able to focus? 

she was going to have to trust her gut and just take one for the team.

you, on the other hand, were not focused at all. not with how she was shifting around in her fucking chair, her hips accidentally jolting upwards and you were biting down on your lip harshly when the silicone slipped deeper, nudging against your walls. the true question was how were you going to sit here, snuggly keeping her cock warm for the remaining time she had on her work without a single piece of attention? 

just as she had went to pick up her pen for the 100th time today, abby clenched her jaw tightly at the sudden whines coming from you. you were trying so hard to bury your face in her neck and keep them muffled by her skin, but it was failing miserably. “baby, i know—” she murmured, tightening her arm around your waist. “just want you close. need to feel you. haven’t been this close to you in weeks. and m’sorry—”

you weren’t making this any easier on her, not with the way you were slowly moving around on her lap, and it’s like she can fucking feel you. the point of the pen hasn’t even hit the paper yet and she’s wanting nothing more than to push all her work onto the floor and make you cum as many times as you want. the way her arm was holding onto you had your brain cloudly, already drunk on the heavy feeling of the pine body wash she had used this morning. “abs—” you whimpered, tightening your arms around her neck, slowly rocking your hips back and forth, and letting out quiet gasped breaths with each movement.

the way you said her name had her reeling, brain going into overdrive, and grip tightening on your body. she didn’t understand why she thought this idea would work. having you in her lap, sitting on her cock, looking pretty, and waiting patiently for her to be done, would be the best idea but she just missed you so much. sure, you were in the same home as her, but to her, you felt so far away on that couch and she needed you so close that not even a sheet of paper would fit between you both.

she turns her head and presses a kiss on your cheek, hips bucking up when she’s trying to get a little more comfortable, and she gritted her teeth when you abruptly nipped and bit at her neck, warning her. your fingers still thread through her hair, tugging and pulling at random strands, trying to distract yourself— though that wasn’t helping her, for even 30 minutes give or take. already wanting nothing more than her to be done, or at least give your attention some clit. but she wasn’t even doing that. “abby, please—”

“i promise i will be done soon, and you will have all my attention, okay?” she tried to compromise, key word try— she was trying not to grind her hips up into you, and fuck you like you deserve each time you let out a whimper next to her ear, but she was regretting this entire thing. having your pretty girlfriend warming your cock while trying to work wasn’t ever going to end in a good way until you were done with what you were doing. “i need you here, please— just for a while, and i promise i will give you whatever you want” she pleaded, screwing her eyes shut tightly when you’re shifting around on her lap, the back of the strap rubbing her clit.

her words went in one ear and right out the other. you could barely focus on the way her lips moved, let alone focus on what she was saying. you were only thinking about how deep she was, how perfectly the silicone filled you up. you were soaked, no doubt about it, you were sure you were dripping onto her pants, but if you were, neither you or abby mentioned it.

the pen was moving quickly against the paper, finally gained enough composure to start writing— jesus christ, has it only been a few minutes since she asked you over here? a few minutes that you’ve been snuggly sitting on her cock? god. abby was biting back her smirks and stifling back subtle laughs when you suddenly let a out a high-pitched whine, the hand she had on your waist had moved, and slipped under her shirt and gripped one of your tits in her huge hands. pinching, pulling, and rolling your hardened nipples between her fingers. 

“you’re doing so good, baby. just sit here looking all pretty for me for a little longer” she mumbled, slowly grinding her hips up, blue eyes flickering up to your face and found your eyes fluttering closed and sinking your teeth into your lower lip. you were already so far gone that you barely registered the huge grin on her fucking face. “just keep my cock warm, and you can have whatever you want when i’m done filling this report. I’ll fill you up so good tonight for being a good girl, my good girl, okay?” was she taunting you? moving her hips so slowly, grinding up into you just to tease you, warn you of what was coming later when you finally had all her attention?

“m’your good girl” you nodded, pressing your head against her shoulder. drunk and delirious on her. her sweet yet deep and raspy voice. her pine-scented body wash. her hand on your tits, switching between the two so the other wasn’t left out. everything about her, and everything she was doing— fuck, she was only talking to you and lightly touching you, but it was enough to have more slick pooling between your legs and your body melting more into her chest. “m’your good girl” you repeated, wrapping your arms around her neck. 

“you are, baby” the blonde hummed, eyebrow quirking up, watching the way you’re slipping your hand down to between your legs, gasping into her neck when your fingers find your clit. whining in protest when abby’s quick to remove her hand from one of your tits just to grab your hand and pin your arm behind your back. “be my good girl, yeah?” she growled, clenching her jaw tightly. 

“i need—”

“i know what you need, and i will give it to you when i am finished. don’t make me shove your panties into your mouth to get you to behave, baby. although, i can’t do that, you’d fucking love that too much” she’s scoffing, tutting under her breath, and grinding her teeth together when you’re moving your hips again. 

you’re lifting your head from her shoulder when her fingers grip your chin between them lightly, smirking at the sight of your tongue running over your lips, slowly running it over her thumb. and she sucks in a deep breath when you’re wrapping your lips around her thumb, pulling it onto your mouth and sucking greedily. “yeah, there you go, baby” she nodded, jaw slack and eyes wide. “imagine it’s my cock, and let me finish up here then you can get the real thing” 

still kinda rusty, idk how to feel about this but i missed lawyer!abby 🤍🎀

[itsswritten]

just some flowery fun

Pairing: Azriel x fem fairy reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral fem receiving, p in v, flower sex.

Summary: There's one final fairy custom yet to complete. And it involves, you, Azriel and a flower.

Wings Universe - more from your favourite couple here.

Azriel found you on the outskirts of a night court meadow, the one where every kind of flower seemed to bloom. It was as if a rainbow had been painted across the land, as shades of coral, emerald and indigo overwhelmed the earth. Amongst all the colour and distraction, he noticed you though. No matter where you were, even if you were hidden, he would always find you. That blush coloured glow you unknowingly emitted, had trapped him like a siren’s call long ago. 

Azriel watched you from a distance, crouched down, pulling little mushrooms to put in your basket. He wondered if you were collecting them for dinner or if you’d trade them at the market in the morning.

You looked so beautiful under the evening sun. The beacon in the sky, casting it’s golden hues across the land. The light flickering through your rosy wings that were unfurled behind you. 

“Sorry I’m late my love,” Azriel spoke softly, his steps crunching through the forest grounds to meet you at the woodland border.

You had already known he was near, if it wasn’t that glowing bond that always seemed to tell you when he was close by, it was his little shadows who would often sprint ahead to meet you before their master. The little wisps were already threading their way through your hair, some helping you with your task at hand. Hastily picking the mushrooms and placing them in your basket neatly. 

There were a few that were also a little impatient at times, perhaps a direct reflection of their master. You always saw his shadows imitating parts of him, parts he tried to keep hidden, even parts he felt embarrassed to show. 

There was his nurturing side, how he always wanted to take care of you and support you. His shadows would often help you with tasks, or carry your tools for you. There was his playful side, a somewhat rare appearance but his shadows often liked toy and tease you. And of course there was his obsessive side, now only amplified by the mating bond– and the exact reason why some of his shadows were so desperate for you to see Azriel instantly. 

The little tendril pulled your hand with a desperate tug as it sensed Azriel near, his voice singing through the trees to reach you. But you didn’t relent to its touch, finishing your task at hand as you felt your mate step beside you.

The shadows were like impatient little children, they would learn– with time.

A gentle smile spread across your lips, your hand coming above your brow to block the sun as you glanced up towards your beautiful mate. The golden hour reflecting off those hazel eyes you loved so much.

“You’re not late, don’t worry,” You reassured him, moving to your feet, your head still craning to look at your Illyrian giant of a lover.

It was only a mere second before Azriel’s arms engulfed you, his wings following suit as they wrapped around protectively. Shadows swirling around in delight that you were both finally reunited– you’d have thought by their reaction that it had been days. 

No, only a mere eight hours.

But you allowed this. Didn’t pull away. Because if there was anyone more deserving of these kind of touches, it was Azriel. 

You would always indulge him, never pull away first.

If he had his way, he would be attached to you at the hip. There were definitely some adjustments that were made when you first came back from your mating trip. Despite the mating frenzy supposedly being over, Azriel’s clinginess never seemed to dissipate. There was something about touching you that calmed him in a way nothing else ever could.

So he actively seeked it out.

It was such an interesting revelation to his family. The usual brooding stoic Shadowsinger, who preferred to accompany a quiet corner of a room or a boring wall– was quite fond of public displays of affection. Maybe it was the clinginess, or his possessiveness wanting to lay claim for everyone to see, but Azriel couldn’t stop touching you.

There were plenty of times your found-family would watch their brother follow you like a lost puppy, hands and shadows always reaching for some skin-to-skin connection.

It was endearing really, and well…you loved his touch too much to ever reject it.

After a few moments, you felt Azriel press his lips atop of your head, felt him inhale your scent before allowing his wings to unwrap and loosen his grip on you. Although, his hand had found its way to the small of your back, keeping you close while his other hand gently brushed the hair from your face. His fingers softly adjusting the flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning.

With a slight tilt of your chin, your lips brushed against his wrist. Leaving a light kiss across the delicate skin, causing a lazy smile to grow across his tan face. A smile he only ever showed when he felt calm, safe and content.

The meadows were quieter now, evenings were always a little softer. A change in shift patterns meant fewer fairies roamed and of course the day creatures were getting settled for slumber. 

A breeze flowed that scent of night-chilled air and cedar that could send you into a slumber or a frenzy depending on your mood. You closed your eyes for a moment, to allow yourself to fully embrace that sense. As if the sense of sight might just distract you from its loveliness.

“Now…will you tell me why I had to meet you here? Not that I mind picking you up from work. But I didn’t think we were doing this anymore,” Azriel questioned, wondering why you had been so adamant he met you here.

The pad on his thumb trailing across your lashes gently before you fluttered them open again in a hum.

Originally after you’d accepted the bond, Azriel had been insistent on taking you to work, picking you up from work and well… not ever leaving your side. It rapidly became apparent that you had a slight problem. 

Not that you didn’t love your mates company, god's no. Azriel was your favourite person to be with. But you were dedicated to your work, in fact a little finicky when it came to it…and your prowling possessive mate would sometimes complicate things.

There was also the fact Azriel was skipping his own duties, taking delegating to a whole new level. Not once in his life had he ever delegated his workload to others, but after the mating frenzy he fully embraced it. Something the Spymaster never thought he would do.

But you see Azriel would do anything to spend more time with you.

Including skipping  work.

It had taken a long but soft conversation to come to the agreement you’re at now. A lot of hushed disagreements and finally some whispered promises that you would be okay if he wasn’t always by your side.

But of course Azriel knew you would be okay. It was he who could barely function without you. 

You had both settled on a compromise, one you knew Rhys was also incredibly happy with. Especially as the way Azriel was heading, it seemed as though a retirement was a more likely outcome.

Azriel would take you to work, and on every fifth day he was allowed to join you for lunch in the meadows. But, and this was important, you would commute home with your friends, meeting Azriel in the city before coming home. 

You loved your friends, your community of fairies. This part of your life was so incredibly important to you, and you were so ingrained in the culture that you weren’t willing to compromise on it, especially not to satisfy a needy– sometimes simply horny– mate.

He would survive.

Most fairies lived out in the meadows, but some, just like you and Elodie lived in the city. Preferring the hustle and bustle of Velaris.

It wasn’t just Rhys, and Elodie who were happy to get more time with their friends again. A lot of your fellow male fairies were extremely pleased and grateful, to not have the deadly Spymaster glaring at their backs while they worked.

It was intimidating for sure, but you couldn’t deny that you’d thought it was actually a little attractive. You never told him though, knowing it would have made him throw in the towel and retire right then and there. Choosing to spend the rest of his days as your own personal bodyguard. 

“Hmm oh yes, well there was something I wanted to ask you Az,”

Azriel quirked his brow in question.

“You’ve been so dedicated to embracing my culture and customs…but,” you said with a slight smirk, your fingers trailing down to the daisy chain bracelet that was wrapped around your mate’s wrist.

Your fingers touched him lightly as he peered down at the flowers with a frown.

Had he done something wrong? Perhaps he’d been wearing the flowers incorrectly or not simply not wearing enough? It wasn’t a difficult adjustment, just different. Azriel wanted to so desperately fit into your world, that as soon as he noticed not just the females but male fairies wearing flowers everyday, he took it upon himself to try.

Try and incorporate those little buds of colour into his very dark wardrobe. 

His first attempt, weaving them into his hair caused quite the reaction from his brothers. Rhys and Cassian howling when he came into a meeting one day.

Instead you had started making him jewellery made from flowers, them being a more subtle touch that spoke of the type of mate he had.

As if reading his thoughts, or perhaps he’d pushed it down the bond you spoke quickly. Wanting to reassure him. “You’ve done nothing wrong my love, so far from it in fact…but there was something else I wanted us to do together…”

“Anything.” Azriel blurted out in a hurry, the word swifting off his tongue like a smoke caught on a breeze.

Anything, anything, anything. His shadows sung in unison.

You chuckled lightly to yourself, at how your beautiful mate would do absolutely anything to please you. You couldn’t deny you relished in that a little. The power you held over the oh-so-scary Spymaster. That you could have him crumbling to his knees at just a smile or a please. 

Or sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes he would wake up and sink himself down on you, muttering whispers like a prayer as he worshipped you with his words, fingers, tongue, co—.

“Really Azriel? Anything?” The switch in your tone caused goosebumps to rise on azriel’s skin, the sultry melody of your voice sinking into his ears as he watched your lids blink slowly. Your seductive gaze filtering up under your lashes.

He heard the shift, felt the shift, in your tone, body language– everything. Something he was well attuned to now. Body pressing deeper against his, you leaning up on your tiptoes, lips only a hot breath away.

The frenzy was long gone, supposedly. Although there wasn’t a day that went by that Azriel didn’t want you– didn’t have you. He devoured you day and night, sometimes more if he was able to sneak out of work and find you.

In fact, that desire didn’t seem to fade at all. Only grew, and you both just became somewhat better at managing it. Actually that was lie. You were good at managing it, Azriel not so much. 

So whenever you would relinquish that control, Azriel couldn’t stop himself. Wouldn’t dream of depriving you.

“Anything for you my butterfly, what did you have in mind?” he purred, his hands moving to your hips to press you closer. Heat flaring up under his skin, as he noticed the change in both your scents.

“Hmm, you see there’s this custom for fairies that we have yet to complete. It’s considered a right of passage…” your own hands had found the collar of his shirt, fingers toying with the material as you glanced away playfully as you spoke. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth lightly, that almost caused Azriel to groan right there and then.

“Tell me more about this custom.”

Tilting your head towards the bed of flowers that consumed the meadow, chewing the inside of your cheek as you tried to find the best words, “For new couples, it is considered tradition to bless the relationship by making love in a flower.”

The notion caught Azriel off guard. His eyes widening ever so slightly, as a faint blush heated his ears. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. Whatever dominating composure he did have, had swiftly slipped away at your words.

“In a flower?,” he managed to stutter out.

You’d never seen him like this before. 

Now Azriel wasn’t one to shy away in the bedroom. He wasn’t a novice, far from one in fact. And he’d proved that to you in your early months of the mating frenzy. So this rare display of bewilderment and bashfulness was rather endearing. 

“Yes Azriel, I want you to fuck me in a flower. That flower to be specific.” Your slender finger pointed to a pink flower that stood tall beside your willow woven basket on the ground.

Your bluntness caused a stir within him, his gaze darkening slightly as if he finally digested your words.

This was different. Something he hadn’t even known existed. He had been very thorough when doing his research on you, but this little custom hadn’t been in his books. 

There was also the factor that your suggestion was very…exposing. Not that Azriel was against being caught, voyeurism was something that had excited him in the past. But perhaps it was that innate carnal desire, the mating frenzy’s grip still tight on him, that Azriel didn’t particularly like the idea of someone seeing you.

“Oh Azriel, there’s no need to be so possessive…there’s no one here.” You teased, a playful glint in your eye as you pulled yourself away from him, hands grazing down his chest and torso lightly before putting some space between you both.

He sometimes hated how transparent he was to you, even without his emotions rippling through the bond. You just always knew. Knew what he was thinking, knew what he was feeling– always.

“Come join me Az,” you purred, this time not allowing your invitation to even be considered for rejection by the possessive male. “I want you to make love to me right there.”

Azriel’s closed the space between you, he wasn’t going to deny his mate.

𓇢𓆸

Whatever previous misgivings he may have had, were completely gone by the time you’d both dwindled and flown into the flower.

The floret you had chosen was pink and peachy, it’s hues resembling the colours that flickered off your wings in the sunlight. Velvety petals stood large and grander than he had ever imagined, stepping inside the flower was like stepping into a room. A small room, perhaps double the size of the large bed you both shared, but plenty of space for what you were wanting from him– needing from him.

The petals existed as tall large pink walls, with a ceiling of the changing sky above. And there was the bed of pollen, cushiony and pillowy beneath him that had him chewing his lip at the mere thought of having you there.

“Y/n-” he went to say your name, pulling his gaze of awe from the flower bed you’d pulled him into, to see you slipping your dress from over your shoulders. The material falling down and pooling at your feet as your wings flickered in a glow.

“Azriel, are you really going to make me wait much longer?” You whispered, a sensual strain on your voice as Azriel acknowledged just how desperate his little mate wanted this– wanted him.

Azriel grunted back a groan as his darkened hazel eyes drunk up your naked figure. Eyes grazing across every curve, just before his shadows seemed to follow suit. Mirroring his gazes with a touch.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Azriel had followed suit, stripping himself of his leathers, his eyes studying you as you stepped closer to him. Each step padding across the fluffy pollen, your hand slowly grazing up your body in a lazy but seductive manner. His shadows were swirling around your figure, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

That alone made his cock twitch. 

Your teasing tone from earlier had already caused a stir within him, and seeing your naked form now only hardened his pulsing cock further. 

There was also something so intimate about being here with you. In this flower, being in a part of your world, a part that you had so desperately wanted to share with him. Time and time again, Azriel was in disbelief that he was even worthy of being in this space.

You stood directly in front of him, the peaks of your breasts touching his chiselled torso as the mild evening breeze gently brushed through the petals. Your scent catching on the wind, that only confirmed to Azriel what his next move was.

Your eyes widened slightly, as you watched your beautiful mate come down to his knees, his wings slumped down casually behind him. His arms wrapping around your hips as his lips pressed against your lower abdomen, sinking further a trail of kisses down to his desired destination.

He gave you one last look up, that sultry stare under his thick dark lashes before you felt his lips latched onto your core. Your back arched instantly, head rolling back and your wings stretching further behind you. 

Azriel groaned at your taste, sweet just like honey– sweet just like you.

For support, his arms quickly hooked under one of your legs,  hiking it over his shoulder ensuring you were straddling his face– just the way he liked it. His other hand cupped your ass with a squeeze.

That Illyrian of yours, showing off his strength by supporting you fully with his arm strength alone. And then there was his skill, the way his tongue danced against your slick. Devouring every drop of your wetness. Your fingers instantly connected with his hair, tangling in the wavy midnight locks. You began to grind then, against his lips, pushing light pressure against his tongue that caused a groan to ripple up his throat.

“Azriel…” You breathed, a rosyness and heat filling your cheeks at the position before another whiney moan left your lips. You loved how your mate could quite literally throw you around, hike you over his face, or hold you while he fucked you.

But gods, his tongue was worshipping you, every stroke sending a wave of pleasure that was sending you into a blissful daze.

Azriel’s mouth suckled gently on your clit for a moment, making sure it was swollen and puffy before you felt his lips stretch into a smirk. Gently he placed you down, your feet reaching the plush pollen beneath you. His large calloused hand moved from your thigh up to wrap around your back.

“Fine,” he purred, knowing too well what that whine meant– that he was sending you to ecstasy and your body was about to give in. 

He moved you gracefully to lay beneath him. You were sprawled, your back plush against the soft centre of the flower. Pockets of pollen and fairy dust filtering the air around you as your hair stretched out beneath you, they looked just like his tendrils of shadows.

Azriel watched you for a moment, your radiant figure vibrant under the moon's glow. The way your hand reached up for him, fingers grazing the line of his jaw. Your wings spread out below you, beautiful and glowing. 

This. This moment right here was it. 

He had to take a moment to remember it, treasure it and keep it safe in his mind.

Then, he leaned down. His mouth slotting over yours in a passionate ravenous kiss. Your mouths moved in synchrony with one another as it grew deeper and wetter. You felt his pelvis against you, his erection obvious. You pulled away for a moment, eyes glancing down over the curves of your breasts to see his large leaking cock between you.

“Azriel…stop making me wait,” you whined at the sight, your hips lifting up to rock against him.

His lips pulled into a light smile at your desperation, but he dropped himself down. Finding himself in his favourite place again- between your legs.

He wanted to drink you up first.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel sat against the petal wall, his large heavy wings sprawled out behind him in a slump. You angelically moved to straddle him. Each movement causing a puff of pollen to float in the air, which only amplified the glow of your wings. 

Wisps floated in the space around you, illuminated by the moonlight shining from above.

“How long have you been waiting for this, my little butterfly?” Your wetness still covering his lips as he teased, his calloused fingers gripping your ass cheeks gently. Once, twice, he squeezed before he grazed his fingers down your thighs and up again. Then, he slotted his mouth over the peak of your breast. Finding that gentle balance of sucking and nibbling that he knew had you quivering.

“Longer than you would assume-” you gasped at the feeling, eyes rolling back for a moment as you bit back a moan.

“Tell me when.” Azriel almost commanded, one hand weaving its way in your hair to tug at the way your head rolled back. The sight of you fighting bliss as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment shot straight to his member. It clenched and tapped against his abdomen, pre cum stringing from his tip to his torso.

You moved then, hovering slightly over his leaking cock, your soaked wet folds grinding over the head. Mixing your sweetness with his. Your wings twitched as his hot tip rubbed over your sensitive clit, Azriel had already made you finish three times.

Azriel growled out a moan at the touch. So light and teasing.

“Tell me.” He demanded again, this time pushing you down onto him his hands holding your hips as he guided you. The stretch filling you with a pleasure that elicited a sweet moan. Azriel groaned as he felt himself fill you fully. His large thick cock feeling so tight in your heat.

Slowly you began to roll your hips, finding a rhythm you knew he loved. Azriel’s head rolled against the rubbery petal, his pupils wide, mouth agape.

“I’ve been waiting for this since I showed you how to dwindle,” you admitted, referencing a time well over a year ago now. 

So much had changed since that time. But one thing had remained the same, you were completely and utterly in love with the Shadowsinger. 

Azriel growled, not just at the pleasure you were edging him towards but to the reality you’d both come to terms with since accepting the mating bond. That for years prior you had both been pining for one another.

“You’re telling me we could have been doing this for a year already?” Azriel grunted, his face coming to the curve of your neck as he held you steady, his own hips rolling up to rock into you.

“We’ve been over this Az,” you couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your lips. “You’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly and with a tight grip on your hips, he pushed even deeper.

“I can do that.”

𓇢𓆸

It was Azriel’s wings that were twitching now, yours were tucked away by magic while your mate’s hard chest pressed against your back. His hips rolling into you from behind, as he embraced you tightly, hand squeezing your breast.

Azriel’s face was burrowed into the curve of your neck, he had left many marks there, laying claim. But now all the Illyrian could manage was flurry of moaning whispers and whiney words as you felt him near his release.

“So– mhm– feels so good angel,” he choked out, a guttural moan leaving his swollen mouth from where you’d kissed and sucked so much.

“Azriel–” you breathed out, your hand tangled so tightly in his hair little tiny daisy’s had grown from your magic touch. Weaving their way into his strands.

His rhythm was getting quicker, thrusts shorter but deeper. Sweat was beading off his face onto your neck as he brought his hand round to touch your clit again. That sensitive bud he couldn’t leave alone. 

That extra touch was enough.

A sweeping, rolling hot wave moved from your centre, you back arching into your mate as you cried out in pleasure. Your release consuming you as your mate joined. Azriel thrusted deeper into your core, the feeling rippling through his body as he juttered into you.

Ribbons of his hot sticky cum filling you up.

You both laid there for a moment.

Your finger gently untangled from his hair, coming down to rest on his hand that was holding your waist. Your finger slightly grazing over the deep scars set into his flesh.

Catching your breaths, you glanced up at the twinkling stars that basked their light down onto you.

“I love you,” Azriel spoke first, his lips so close to your ear you felt his mouth move against your skin. He pressed a sweet kiss on the curve of your neck, just below your ear. His nose gently brushing up and down your soft skin.

You turned at that, reluctantly pulling yourself off him to get a look at him. His cock softer but still throbbing as it left a trail of his seed down the inside of your thigh. Azriel had a dazed but loving look in his eyes, his hazel gems pulling your lips into a smile. He was sweaty, rosy and hot, and just so beautiful.

Gently your fingers began to fuss over the flowers that had grown from your release, softly pulling them from his hair.

He watched you, his eyes taking in every inch of your expression. Your heated cheeks, the sheen from sweat that just made you glisten more. You were just so beaut–

With that thought Azriel’s cock throbbed again, a moan climbing up his throat as he hastily pulled your hands away to kiss you. Hips pushing against you for more. Bursts of pollen sprung into the air from his sudden movement.

Chuckling through your kiss, you called his name. Really again? It was the fourth round tonight.

“I need you–” Azriel went to defend, only to cut himself off with a violent sneeze.

Bursts of pollen spun round the space, as you watched your mate’s nose scrunch into another sneeze.

“Bless you,” you giggled when he finally stopped, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself above you.

“Blessed I am to have you,” he replied sincerely.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian let out another giant sneeze, causing Rhys and Azriel to give him an unimpressed look from across the table.

“Could you at least use this when you sneeze, I get enough yuck and gunk with the kids” Rhys spoke with annoyance, throwing a silk embroidered handkerchief across to his brother.

Cassian glared back, snatching the midnight material and wiping his nose slightly before stuffing it in his pocket.

“I can’t help it, Azriel stinks!”

Rhys stole a sideways glance at Azriel before returning his attention to Cassian again.

It had been a few days since that night in the meadows, a night Azriel was keen to repeat again. But Cassian was right, he couldn’t seem to shake the pollen. 

“I don’t understand, what have you been doing? Rolling around in a field?” Cassian scoffed, folding his arms as he looked across at his brother in question.

Rhys couldn’t hide the shit-eating grin that spread across his face, his hand coming to cover his mouth as he stifled a laugh.

Azriel fought off a smirk. “Something like that Cass,” however it was only a second before Rhys bellowed a laugh. Azriel was quick to follow, with a chuckle.

“Wait! What is it? What am I missing?” Cassian demanded from them both.

“Nothing Cass, don’t worry about it mate,” Azriel replied, his jaw hurting from trying to contain his laughter.

“I swear if this is a sex thing and you’re not telling me I won’t forgive you!!!!”

a/n: the flower sex is finally here!!! yaaaayyyyy hahaha okay so this was actually so hard to write, smut does not come easy but I'm somewhat satisfied with the outcome. Lemme know what you want from these two next! Enjoy my loves <3

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @marscardigan

Wings tags: @minaethrym

[aoioozora]

Brown Eyes

Simon had always been conscious of how boring his eyes seemed. They were just brown, plain ol' boring brown and he hated it. He didn't have Johnny's sparkling bright sky blue or Price's ocean blue. His was just plain, boring, brown, the color of dirt.

Not until you came along, you sweet little thing.

"You have pretty eyes," you told him when you first met him. He was shocked.

"Uh, thanks," he could only muster without appearing affected by the compliment.

But whenever you'd speak to him, he'd notice you peering into his eyes with no thought behind your own. You were so distracted by figuring out the shade of brown that his eyes were that you'd not hear a thing he said. Simon was glad that his blushing cheeks were masked.

You were fascinated by his eyes. In the shade they were inky black, an abyss and you found it befitting his mysterious persona. But one day when you were in his office, a ray of evening light slipped in through the cracks of his blinds, settling gently over his eyes. His melanin-rich irises didn't seem bothered by the light in the slightest, and again, you stared.

The brightened abyss was a rich, chocolatey brown, light enough to reveal his normally obscured pupils. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, the golden threads of silk delicately shimmering.

"Are you listening to me?"

You snapped out of your daze. "Sir?"

Those same gentle eyes stared back at you; his voice hinted mild annoyance but his eyes reflected an unusual softness, like he wasn't willing to reprimand you.

"Why aren't you paying attention?" he demanded anyway, crossing his burly arms over his chest as he sat back.

You pursed your lips. "I got lost in your eyes, Lieutenant," you admitted with a sheepish, lopsided grin.

He let out a grunt, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks again. He was not going to admit that he was affected by those same words you told him when you first met him and you continued to tell him by always wordlessly staring at him.

He could not lie that he liked your attention; that your relentless gazing was the key wriggling and turning in the lock that kept his heart caged away.

"Why d'you like them so much?" he leaned forward.

You could not help being honest. "They're beautiful," you answered, your voice heavy with genuineness, "They remind me of chocolate, and coffee, and unfrosted cakes." You paused, but he waited.

"Like dense forests, the color of wood," you explained, "Like soil..."

His brows furrowed. Soil that is stepped on. His insecurity filled in.

"Like soil that is the foundation of both massive trees and for the little saplings," you continued, "your eyes are the color of something so important."

The tinge of animosity in his eyes softened.

"You know, in the shade, your eyes are dark and it really suits how mysterious you can be sometimes," you said with a gentle smile, feeling a little embarrassed at this point, "but when in the light," you lifted your eyes to meet his, "I can almost see the gentleness and care that is normally hidden."

He could almost hear the click of a key turning and a lock opening. He knew that the eyes were the window to the soul, but never had he seen such an unprecedented act in action, and him being the victim of such sweet an analysis.

So this was the outcome of all your relentless gazing: to figure him out, to make sense of him, to understand him, to appreciate him.

And for that, his heart was now yours.

[masterlist]

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | A poor damsel in distress, saved by the most unlikely of man.

author's note | this was written for @studioghibelli's beautiful fic challenge. i've never written anything this close to a royal-ish type era, if you could even call it that. but this is just a slight dip into that realm and it was super fun! thank you for hosting this, bell! idk if any of this is accurate i'm just vibing dsjhk

content warning | 18+ smut, princess!reader, mentioned to have hair long enough to be tied back, regency au, age gap, wealth/power dynamic, mentions of past marriage/death, BREEDING KINK, talks of marriage and pregnancy, secret relationship, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

word count —1.8k

“If he catches us, we’ll both be dead.”

It was a constant mantra Joel spoke to you, even as he unfastened your corset and slipped under the thick fabric of your dress, disappearing as he fit his face between your thighs.

It started out of innocence—a strange man with growing, constant visits to your manor at the edge of town. At first it was only on official business, a supplier of goods to your father. Joel was a jack of all trades: armor, leatherwork, anything you could think of, he’d mastered it. It was just another method of proof on how good he was with his hands.

“You need not worry,” You breath, pressed against the wall of his cobblestone home, often sneaking out in the middle of night with the possible threat of capture prevalent in your mind.

The estate had always been heavily guarded, but living there your entire life had made it easier to learn patterns, behaviors, and sneaking out to see him over time had become effortless. It had been months by now—and even as his friendship with your father grew, there were no signs, not an ounce of suspicion of what he blossomed between you both.

“He offered me a job,” Joel speaks lowly, muffled under the fabric of your dress as your leg hooks over his shoulder, fingers wrapped around the top of your bodice as you squeeze, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he licks through the center of your cunt, “well paying, convenient enough.”

You gasp softly, lifting at your skirt to get your hands on him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling, earning a soft grunt as he peeks up at you, pulling away for a brief moment.

“What was it?”

“Royal guard—and no princess, not for him.”

“As if I don’t already have enough men guarding me,” You sigh, pushing him away and adjusting your dress—he looks slightly dejected, but stands and fixes your dress, caressing your cheek with his hand, “you cannot say yes, Joel. If you are near—”

“I know,” He murmurs, there’s a shift in his dialect that is so distinctly different from your own—years of being taught to speak up, out, to project with your voice and always act as if you were speaking to the masses, thoughtful contrition to a group much lower than yourself, “bein’ around you that often, don’t know how I could keep my hands off of you.”

If your father knew about this—you and him, a man nearly the age of your own father. He’d be ordered to death and you, while the fate may be different, wouldn’t be left with much freedom either. You were long of age, but bound to your duties as a princess and fearful of the man your father would eventually decide to marry you off to. Joel had saved you, distracted you from all of it. It would be impossible to live without him now.

“I sound ungrateful,” You grumble, looking down and grasping his other hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to your chest but not before you press a gentle kiss against the back of his palm, “for what I have—but if I lose you…”

That place was a prison and you knew it. He knew it.

“A golden cage is still a cage,” Joel reminds you, “—that place, your father—”

You already knew—your father was slowly spiraling out of control, the rule of his country slipping from his grasp and he was scrambling and you knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight. But, you were tired. So tired. With the absence of your mother, your other siblings, you felt trapped.

“Take me away,” You beg, eyes watering as the words slipped from your lips, “we can disappear—I do not need this wealth or title, any of it. Only you.”

“He won’t stop,” Joel tells you honestly, “we would always be running.”

You pull your hand free of his grasp and curve them around his face, cradling the softness of his jaw, the scratch of his facial hair under your fingertips and he licks at his bottom lip, a tell-tale sign of the burgeoning lust. He needed you.

“Is that really what you want?”

He means it—it was a tone you’ve never heard before.

And something tells you he’s been feeling the same way for a while.

“Yes,” You answer quickly, nodding jerkily as you pull him close and Joel has to physically restrain himself from taking you there, licking his lips once more as they hover near your own, “please, Joel.”

“Let’s have this night,” Joel tells you softly, “and we can figure everything out come morning.”

—

It was peaceful here, a small cottage out in the middle of nowhere—if you wanted to stay here you could, but you knew that would be the first place your father would look outside of town.

Joel, his confidante, his most trusted man who was now under you, fingers digging into your thigh as you took his cock inside of you, his hand guiding at the base as he breathed out into the quiet room, the low crackle of the fire at his bedside.

“If you could see yourself,” Joel says absently, watching as you pull the tightly woven ribbon from your hair, breasts stretching up with the movement until it fell from its intricately laced cage, bouncing lightly with your playful movement, a smile peeking from your lips, “such a vision, princess.”

“I am no princess,” You argue gently, palms pressing into his chest as you lift your hips, leisurely and slow, enjoying the tight pull of his brow every time your ass meets his hips, “I was not made for that life, Joel.”

“Made for me,” He assures, his warm tone spreading throughout your core and pulling you in, the hands place on your thighs moving up your hips, squeezing into the flesh of your waist as his mouth drops open, silently urging you to change your pace, “perfectly crafted, all I’ve ever needed.”

You snort softly at his words—he was always a poet, whether stumbling through his words or bringing you to your knees with a compliment that would be on your mind for days, echoing in your head as you dipped your fingers inside of you on the days you went without him.

“Would you marry me?” You ask suddenly, though you feel the answer before he says it.

“Without hesitation,” He responds, “I can propose—right now, if you want.”

“Such a romantic,” You chide, the words falling on a gasp as he flips you both suddenly, shoving you into the old mattress as the bed creaks with the weight and intensity of his thrusts, the rest of your words caught in your throat as he pulls your legs up and over his back, hands resting firmly beside your head, a true vision himself.

“If it would make you happy, I would,” He admits, “all I care about is having you, being with you—titles, all of that, it doesn’t mean much to me but if that is something that would make you happy—”

“What do—” Joel switches his position suddenly, an arm tucking under your leg as he pulls it over his shoulder and leans up to meet your cunt with his thrust, watching his cock as you swallowed him up, his hand falling over the base of your pelvis and pressing down, feeding into the pressure of his cock and the all-consuming feeling of him, “christ—what is it—that you want?”

“You,” He answers immediately, “and…”

He pauses, thinking carefully on his words.

You know little of his past other than his wife and daughter who had fallen ill, losing them when he had been away on business, unbeknownst and coming home to the sight of it. He was a broken, brittle man and you were the only thing holding him together.

“I would give you a son,” You tell him, “a daughter—as many kids as you wished, Joel. Is that what you want?”

“A family,” He smiles fondly, “with you?”

“I fear you would—oh—never escape me then,” You joke playfully, eyes squeezing shut as he snaps forward roughly, his thumb dragging over your clit fleetingly as your hands dig and twist in the bedsheets, “what a handful I would have with a small version of you.”

He chuckles softly, snaking his hand under your waist and pulling at your arm until you get the idea to wrap them around his neck, adjusting you up and into his lap, carefully examining his face under the soft glow of the fire, his lip quivering as you drag your thumb over his mouth.

“I want it,” You plead, “don’t—don’t pull away.”

“You’ve given me so much,” He mumbles into your cheek as you pull him closer, hugging him to your chest as he wraps himself around you, grunting as he reached closer and closer to his own end, “and you've been trapped your entire life, I don’t want you to feel that way with me.”

“And I would give you so much more,” You breath into his mouth, “picture it—barefoot, pregnant with your child in a home far away from here, our new life—”

“Baby,” He begs, his fingertips squeezing roughly into your flesh and you gasp, your cunt pulsing around him with the roughness of his movements, pussy throbbing at his fervent intensity at your words, “I love you.”

You nod, tucking his face into your neck as he hands slips between your bodies, dragging over your clit without you needing to ask, knowing he was just that in tune with your bodily cues, the hitch in your voice as you echo the words back to him.

“Come inside of me,” It wasn’t an order, more of a plea, but you mean it, “I want to be yours.”

Forever, you think. But, the words are cut off by a sharp, jerky snap of Joel’s hips as he comes inside of you, his teeth dragging over your shoulder as he groans into your skin, simultaneously working his thumb over your sensitive clit, feeling your clench and spasms around him as you come with a soft sigh, fingers twisting into his hair and your body curling around him like a python, squeezing him so tight it knocks the air out of him.

“Do you have everything you need?” Joel asks after a few minutes, gentle touches over your skin, pulling his face back to look at you. “Before we leave at sunrise?”

“I have you,” You assure him, “that is all I need.”

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Pretty Green Eyes-I Mean Ties

Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Summary: you find a little present for Dean

Warnings: none, pure cuteness, slight embarrassment, gn but use of 'sweetheart'

A/N: I'm obsessed with this gif, not proofread all mistakes are my own

You walked through the iles of the thrift store, looking for new shirts, after your favorite one was shredded by a monster last week. You and the Winchesters frequented second-hand shops; your clothing got ruined pretty often, so you had to buy cheap. That's also why you wore so much flannel, it was easy to find here.

The boys hadn't joined you on this shopping trip, so you were left to peruse the store without Dean getting onto you for 'getting distracted by the dead people stuff'. I mean, in your defense, wasn't that kind of part of your job?

As you looked through the men's clothing for a replacement jacket for Sam, something on one of the end caps caught your eye. You went over and picked up the deep emerald green suit tie. It reminded you of Dean's pretty green eyes.

In the years you had been hunting with the brothers, you had developed quite a crush on the older Winchester. Crush? Let's face it. You were in love with him, and you had alway loved his beautiful eyes.

You almost wanted to buy the tie for him. You rolled your eyes at the thought. It's not like the boys were big on gift-giving. Debating for a moment you decided he could wear it with his 'fed threads' ‐as he called your fake FBI suits- and tossed it in the cart before you could second guess yourself.

"Honey I'm home," you greeted in a sing-song tone as you entered the motel room you were sharing with the boys.

Digging in your bag, you handed Sam the jacket you had gotten him and he thanked you. Dean looked up from where he sat at the end of one of the beds cleaning his gun.

"I got you something too," you said, dropping the tie onto the bed next to him.

He picked it up and looked at you with a brief look of confusion.

"It matches your eyes."

Why did you say that? You internally cringed, feeling the heat rise in your face. Instead of looking at him, you stuffed your new clothes into you duffle bag.

"Thanks Sweetheart," Dean said a sweet smile gracing his lips.

"I'm going to take a shower." You hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Really you wanted to run away from this situation so he didn't see how flustered you were.

"Awww," Sam said in a mocking tone as soon as the bathroom door shut behind you.

You may have missed how Dean blushed when you said that, but Sam didn't, and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to tease his older brother. He knew that Dean had had feeling for you for years, but was too blind to realize that you felt the same.

"Shut up," Dean said, brushing off his bothers' teasing. He ran his finger over the fabric of the tie and smiled to himself. He knew he would keep it forever.

[wandasaura]

THE BEST THING THATS EVER BEEN MINE

summary — when you take the dogs to the park, jealousy takes control when wanda gets too comfortable with someone else.

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, the chaotic duo of lucky and fanny, domestic fluff bc i couldn't help myself, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, mommy kink, biting, love bites, oral fixation, teasing, slight humiliation, brief dumbification, jealousy, bratty reader, thigh riding, mentions of fingering, clothed sex, punishment, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — the promised second part to love is a ruthless game. jealous reader finally makes her appearance as requested!

You decided very quickly that however curious you were about adopting a dog, you never wanted Wanda to agree with that decision. Although the sun was already peaking past the horizon when Lucky came scratching at the guest room door,  effectively rousing not only you, but Natasha from sleep, it wasn’t even eight in the morning. It wasn’t often you woke up with the Russian still in bed beside you, typically being the last one to wake and the first to fall asleep, and now that you had her warm and soft beside you, you weren't even able to enjoy her clingy cuddles like you wanted. Lucky was persistent, his whines and whimpers thin but effectively audible despite the heavy door trying its best to block him out. Wanda’s voice echoed through the house in tandem with the pitiful whimpers, trying to beckon the pup back downstairs, but the retriever was adamant about wanting you awake. 

Natasha groaned beside you, her face shoved into the pit of your neck where the impeding sunlight was darkest. Her hair tickled your cheek as she wiggled further into you, soft breaths fanning across the expanse of your shoulder. You giggled softly at the sensation, twisting into her arms until you were chest to chest, then leaning in to press a kiss to her clothed skin right above where her beating heart laid. You sighed blissfully, thankful that Wanda has managed to distract Lucky, but knowing that despite the reclaimed silence, you’ll be unable to go back to sleep now that youre awake and focused on Natasha. 

“I love you.” You whispered against her chest, laughing when her lips puckered against the skin of your neck and kissed you sweetly albeit sleepily. She was always affectionate, always wanting to assure you know how loved you are, but you’ve discovered that when she’s tired theres no amount of physical contact that can satisfy her. As if determined to prove that statement, she tugs you closer into her chest, fingers loosely threading into the knotted ends of your hair.  “Do you need more lotion on your wrists?” You question softly, untangling your arm from between your chests so that you can trace the tips of your fingers along her cheekbones. 

As if she wasn’t sure about the question, Natasha rolled her wrists in circular motions, testing just how badly the irritated skin ached from the aftermath of being restrained. You scoffed amusedly, deciding that her answer wasn’t going to be trustworthy when she finally did respond. You pulled yourself away from her chest before she’d even returned her gentle grip to your hair and lower back, though you giggled when needy fingers poked and prodded at your ribs trying to get you to stay. 

“Come back.” She whined, rolling into the center of the bed, and although she was covered by blankets, you could make out the soft rising and falling of her chest as she turned onto her back and finally peeled her eyes upon to drink in the sight of you still messy from sleep. Your hair was frizzy, cheeks flush and adorned with indentations from the pillows prominent and deep against your skin. You slept like dead weight, but Wanda’s rustling always found a way to tousle strands of your hair that she inevitably got caught between. You looked like sheer beauty as sunlight dawned upon your features. “Duckling.” She pleaded, arms outstretched and pleading with you to step close enough to touch. 

You smiled fondly but remained persistent, already turning toward the door and leaving Natasha to lay amongst the ungodly amount of pillows and thin summer bedding as you searched for the lotion Wanda used last night. When you opened the door, you were met with the indicative sounds of breakfast being made down in the kitchen. The clattering of metal and plastic made you smile, still not accustomed to how a house could feel so lived in each and every day. It was a mystery what the Sokovian would be preparing as she clattered around in the kitchen accompanied only by Yelena’s dogs, but desperately you hoped that it was something sweet; sweeter than the fruit that she’d been forcing you and Natasha to eat everyday for the past three weeks. 

The bedroom was two doors down and directly across from Natasha’s office. Deciding that a detour wouldn’t hurt the already pouty woman, you broke away from your intended path and verged off into the office where paperwork and files sat meticulously stacked on the left side of her desk. The right side was dressed in personal items, namely a picture of the three of you from the Memorial Day barbeque, and little trinkets that you assumed came from Russia. You’d have to ask how frequently she visited her native country, noting that some of the figures on her desk looked shiny and new. You smiled softly when you noticed a ring sat beside her keyboard, knowing that it wasn’t hers, but Wanda’s. You wondered just how many small traces of them existed within the others personal spaces, but that would have to be a scavenger hunt for another day. 

You smiled softly when you pulled open her desk drawer, finding your now voided contract at the top of the pile she kept. You don’t think she’d ever part ways with it, telling you that it’s a reminder of how far she’s come since you met her last year, and you can’t disagree with her logic. The sticky notes she keeps are right beside it, all annoyingly mundane and lacking bright colors. Wanda’s the one with the plethora of color options, which had thrown you for a loop when you’d initially assumed Natasha was the fun one. Either way, you pulled a single piece from the pad, reaching for a pen that was laid across her other documents. You didn’t have the time to dwell on what you wanted to say, settling simply for the three words you loved the most and a deformed smiley face that would surely make her laugh. Natasha always did find amusement in your mindless doodles, something you found extremely endearing. You adhered it to the monitor of her desktop, assuring that none of the glue residue touched the actual screen because she’d surely lose it. When you were satisfied that it was in a place she wouldn’t miss, you slipped back into the hallway and carried on into the bedroom, eager to be back in her warmth for at least a handful of minutes before Wanda called you both down for breakfast. 

The bedding had been stripped from the bed, all that remained was naked pillows and the fluffy mattress that begged for your weight to sink into it. The collection of your clothes that had adorned the hardwood floor were all missing as well, and you assumed that in her need to find order, Wanda had thrown them in the washer as well. She really was horrible at letting a mess exist for longer then a handful of hours. With the sunlight bleeding into the room, adding warmth the wooden furniture and floors, all that remained from last nights scene was the bottle of lotion on the nightstand table, the other toys and instruments already cleaned and back in the combination locked briefcase. 

You freshened up in the bathroom, not wanting to linger in your sleepy state for any longer then you already had, and the water you splashed against your face felt exquisite after receiving so many licks and kisses from Fanny and Lucky yesterday. With your hair tied up into a ponytail and the rest of your routine completed in full, you left the bathroom behind you, eager to find Natasha once again. 

The Russian was in the same place that you’d left her in ten minutes ago, sprawled out on her back with wild red curls splayed angelically against the pillowcases in a fashion that was reminiscent of a halo. You grinned sweetly, climbing over her body until you could settle against her belly, not saving her the experience of your full weight plopping down on her in seconds. You giggled at her grunt, calloused hands holding onto your thighs as she peeled her eyes open and looked up at you with faux annoyance. 

“Wake up.” You more or less demanded, your bright smile significantly more electric than it had been when you’d first laid your eyes on her that morning. Natasha couldn’t resist smiling back, and her hands reached to rub at her cheeks as she forced herself awake. She and Wanda always resisted rubbing their eyes in the morning, claiming that it was damaging and not the best habit, but you couldn’t be swayed, and secretly, Natasha found it adorable when your closed fists dug into your eye sockets like a sleepy toddler as you stretched out the muscles in your body only to curl up into a tight ball again. “Wanda’s making breakfast.” You informed her gently, unscrewing the cap on the lotion and squeezing a generous amount onto your palms in the same fashion that you’d seen Wanda commit to. 

Unlike last night when she was adamant that all she needed was cuddles from her ‘two favorite girls’, Natasha didn’t fight against you when you reached for her wrist and held it tenderly in front of your chest. You inspected the irritated skin, pleased that although it was red and adored with the faintest traces of ligature marks, the skin wasn’t torn apart nor angry. You rubbed the lotion into her skin tenderly, not wanting to further irritate the area, and Natasha appreciated your efforts as she sighed in relief. You giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against the tip of her nose before you repeated the process on her other wrist. 

“Can I bite you?” You questioned randomly, breaking the silence that had come to sit overtop of your warm bodies as you devoted your full attention to Natasha’s wrists. 

Amused, Natasha’s lips settled into her infamous smirk that always had you weak in the knees. The green within her eyes was sharp and calculated as she watched you play and twist at her fingers now that your initial task had been completed. “You’re going to bite me anyways.” Her voice was smooth as it reached your ears, not outright refusing your request of biting down on her fingers, but not entirely compliant with the idea. You smiled down at her eagerly, wanting to have her full permission before you sunk your teeth into her soft skin. “Once.” She agreed, nodding her head at your unasked question. She was never able to deny you when you looked so sweet and eager sat against her, and after all of your efforts to make her feel loved since coming down from the scene, she didn’t really want to say no anyway. She could handle your incessant need to bite her if it would make you happy, however her permission didn’t come without an ultimatum. “Then I’m sending you off to Wanda.” 

You laughed at her threat, but nodded anyways, bringing her fingers up to your lips. You kissed them sweetly, your lips soft and barely there as you just existed in this soft moment with her. Your delicacy didn’t last for much longer, and the second she had relaxed against the bed, your teeth sunk into her skin harshly; harsher then you’d ever even consider biting Wanda. You giggled at her yelp of shock, scrambling off her lap and out of the guest room before she could think about retaliating. 

You raced down the stairs, throwing caution to the wind as you forced yourself to forget about all the lectures Wanda had bestowed upon you about how dangerous to run down them. Natasha was hot on your heels, her footsteps light and calculated as she called for you to come back to her. The sounds of Wanda rummaging through cabinets became clearer with each step you took toward the kitchen, and when she was in sight, already showered and dressed for the day, you wasted not even a single second before you were throwing your arms around her torso and hiding your face in her chest just as she had spun around to find whatever the commotion was about. 

Lucky and Fanny barked with glee as you unintentially riled them up, their tails wagging as they made laps around the island, knocking into the chairs that sat on one side of the counter after each successful lap. Wanda gasped at your tight embrace, but one of her hands fall onto the small of your back without hesitance. 

“Save me.” You pleaded, looking up at her with wide eyes that held mischief and chaos. You didn’t spare Natasha a single glance when you heard her enter the kitchen, more than certain that she wouldn’t do anything with Wanda present. 

The Sokovian hummed thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at you with adoration clear in her sage stare. Her pink tinted lips quirked upward into an amused grin, scrambled eggs on the stove momentarily forgotten about despite how they sizzled and begged to be removed from the heat. “What did you get yourself into, moya utenok?” She grinned, tracing a gentle finger against the slope of your nose that felt ticklish before it was gone and her hand cradled the back of your head protectively. 

“Nothing!” You shook your head frantically, clinging closer to her chest when you felt Natasha come up behind you, her hands cold as they ran up the exposed skin of your thighs. There was disbelief written across Wanda’s expression, the sunlight bleeding in from the open window practically a spotlight as it highlighted each and every freckle that adorned her naked skin.

“The little devil bit me.” Natasha exclaimed though her voice was perfectly level as she held her hand up for Wanda to see, the sunlight falling into the soft craters your teeth left along her skin. You couldn’t help but giggle, looking up at Wanda with a bright expression on your face. 

“She said I could!” You explained mischievously, your eyes bright and enchanted as the organic light reflected across your face. Your entire disposition wasn’t dissimilar to the state of Lucky and Fanny who had begun to chase each other through the house, still hyper on your own excitement, though now they barrled into glass doors and walls each time they turned to bark at the other. “I asked nicely and she said I could, Mommy.” As your voice raised three octaves, so did your height as you pushed yourself up on your tippy-toes and left a sweet kiss on the corner of Wanda’s jaw, attempting to pull her beneath your trap as Natasha gasped at the scene. 

“Do not play the Mommy card you little minx!” You shrieked in laughter when Natasha grew tired of caressing your thighs, her cold hands taking you by the waist and pulling you back into her chest, though your eyes still lingered on Wanda who merely shook her head in amusement at the sight. You attempted to squirm away from Natasha’s fingers that dug into your ribs, but her grip was persistent around your waist, not allowing you freedom. 

Your eyes closed against your will, your head falling backward as laughter filled the kitchen alongside the barks and yelps of the puppies who didn’t understand what was going on, but wanted to be a part of the fun anyways. Fanny’s tail drummed against your shin as she circled your feet, but you had no time to show any attention to the retriever as Natasha blew a raspberry against your neck. Your laughter ended abruptly when in that same spot, her teeth sunk into your skin. A choked moan slipped past your lips as her tongue shot out to ease the spark of pain before you could even recongize its presence. Your fighting stilled, body falling slack against her chest as she trailed kisses up your neck before biting again, this time just below your ear. A shuddered whine fell off your lips as you craned your neck to the side, eager for her to do it again. The position allowed sunlight to kiss against your features, warm and welcoming as you basked beneath it. 

Natasha’s arms stayed tightly around your waist, but her teeth never left another impression amongst the smooth expanse of your neck. You whined softly when you realized she had no intentions of continuing, a pout taking over your lips as you peeled your eyes open and looked up at her pleadingly. 

Natasha leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose, but her unbroken stare as dangerous and calculated as she maintained eyecontact, her hand cupping your chin to assure you didn’t look away before she was willing to let this moment fall away into just another memory.  “Don’t forget who you belong to, malen’kaya.” 

You pouted deeper, wriggling out of her arms at the first instance that she allowed, instead seeking out Wanda who was thoroughly amused at the stove, an apron half tied around her waist and dusted with what you could only assume was powder from the pancake mix she’d thrown together. The Sokovian didn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a one-armed bear hug, keeping you flush to her chest as she flipped a pancake with a matte black spatula. Even their utensils matched the aesthetic of the kitchen, sometimes it felt like they had everything so meticulously planned out that not even an apocalypse could throw them off. You nuzzled your face into her neck, inhaling that fresh scent of grapefruit that lingers on the collar of her t-shirt, eyelashes tickling her skin as you let your eyes flutter closed. “You’re wife’s being mean.” You sulked against her, your voice muffled and thin as you listened to her heart beat evenly in your ear. 

You yelped in shock when a warning tap langed against your ass, entirely unexpected and harsh within your soft little moment. Your head shot up from Wanda’s neck, searching for Natasha who looked down at you with a challenging gaze. “Do you want to try that again, little one?” She questioned, arms crossed over her chest as she stood beneath the unfiltered sunlight that allowed the green in her eyes to shimmer like a million stars. Your head shook feverishly, fingers curling into Wanda’s shirt as you held her tighter, your lips turning downward into a pout as your body finally caught up with what had happened and the ache in your ass settled over your mind. One spank always hurt more then multiple, you’d never be able to understand why. “No, who?” 

You shrank into Wanda, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you fought between looking at Natasha and hiding away in the woman who kept a comforting hand against the small of your back, her thumb rubbing soft circles over the thin shirt adorning your otherwise naked body. When the words finally fell off your lips, they were no louder then a whisper. “No Daddy.” 

“That’s what I thought.” She muttered, nodding her head curtly before she turned toward the refrigerator and sought out the pitcher of fresh juice that Wanda routinely assured was fully stocked at the start of each new week. This week, she’d gone with grape juice from the local farmers market, and it was particularly tart when you were least expecting it. You whined softly, digging your face into the lawyers neck, fingers still keeping a tight grip on her shirt. 

Wanda, feeling no sympathy for you, merely patted your back encouragingly. “You shouldn't have started a game you didn’t want to play, dorogaya.” You whined, shaking your head against her neck. Wanda wasn’t in the mood to play into your game, and her hand on your back trailed across your spine until it sat firmly against your hip, her ring clad fingers squeezing warningly. “Don’t get fussy with me. You’re the one who bit your Daddy. What did I say about biting?” 

You pouted, just wanting one of them to take pity on you, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards for you this morning. Lifting your head from Wanda’s neck, you met her eye and meekly muttered, “That you’d bite me back.” 

Smiling softly, Wanda kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary, but you’d never complain, reveling in the soft touch. “Exactly. Now go help Daddy set the table. I was thinking we can take the dogs to the park today. Yelena left their leashes and I’m sure Natasha had a couple balls laying around here somewhere.” 

You’d never even considered taking the dogs out for a play, but as the suggestion rolled off of Wanda’s lips you nodded eagerly, tightening your grip on her shirt as you practically bounced on your toes and forced your chests closer together, practically one body beneath the radiant glow of summer sunlight. You’d miss it when fall came around, and the soft glow adorning your girlfriends skin dissipated into nothingness. “Can we go to the park with the big fields? Lucky will love that!” 

Wanda smiled at your excitement, glad to see a smile gracing your features again. “If you get your little ass in the dining room and help Natty, I don’t see why not.” She laughed, laying another little kiss on your forehead before you had the chance to untangle yourself from her completely and dart off in the direction that Natasha had trailed off in. 

“Deal!” You giggled in excitement, your sockless feet pounding against the hardwood floors as you made a break for the dining room, unintentionally colliding with Natasha who had only just turned around to grab the needed silverware for your breakfast of pancakes and eggs. You didn’t find it necessary to step away form the lawyers chest, standing right before her with anticipation clear on your smiley face. Your arms extended at your sides, palms raised toward the ceiling as you bellowed, “Natty, we’re going to the park!” 

“I heard, detka.” Natasha laughed at your excitement, gently taking your arms into her hands and holding them closely to her chest. Her lips pressed soft kisses against your wrists. “I also heard that you needed to help me with the table.” 

“Yeah.” The smile on your lips didn’t leave fully, but it dimmed as you pulled away and began the search for Wanda’a favorite cutlery, because leave it to the lawyers to have multiple sets all intended for different events and holidays. “Do you think Fanny will run away if we let her off the leash?” 

“She won’t run away.” Natasha laughed, dragging her fingers against the small of your back as she joined you beside the long dresser filled with different assortments of serving plates and utensils. She pointed toward the intended set, and you collected three forks and knives with a hum, unable to contain your excitement. 

-

The beating sun fell harshly against your sunscreen slathered skin, provoking sensations of warmth and comfort as you and Natasha chased after the softball she’d dug out of the garage. Lucky had decided that your game of fetch was no longer worth his attention, and had retreated back to Wanda’s side after you’d thrown the ball far off into the field for the umpteenth time. Your laughter bellowed through the park as Natasha bumped her hip against yours, sending you sidewalks on your walk to retrieve it. 

Although the grass was luscious and green, concealing many lost toys and objects, the lime colored ball stuck out like a sore thumb just inches ahead of you. The hours had rolled by quickly, afternoon soaking up the last of its stretches as nightfall became an approaching promise that no amount of pleading could stall. You’d spent the last four hours beneath the rays of delicate light, enjoying the practically abandoned park for what it was. Birds chirped at the very tops of tall trees, squirrels carried acorns across the sidewalk and scurried up the bench only to drop them and begin the process over again, only occasionally did another dog owner come trailing through and stopped for friendly conversation, but Wanda always responded eagerly. You hadn’t had a day this simple in weeks, spending most of your time either out beside the pool or trailing after your girlfriends as they tagged each other in to be CEO for the day. It felt utterly domestic to be beside them surrounded only by nature and traffic sounds, far away from paperwork and the house that had begun to feel confining. You soaked every second up eagerly, knowing it would end far too soon. 

You reached for the ball when you were close enough, batting away Natasha’s hands as she fought to retrieve it first. The Russian laughed loudly when you attempted to shove her body out of the way, yet despite all of your strength being put behind the shove, she remained perfectly in place. You huffed, but quickly your lips curled into a grin when the ball was safely between your fingers. Natasha merely rolled her eyes because you both knew that she had let you win despite her dirty tricks. You spun around to show Wanda, your smile wide with pride, but your eyes didn’t find the Sokovian alone beside the bench where the bag of treats and water was left. Instead, you found her in deep conversation with a woman she looked all too comfortable beside. 

You weren’t a jealous person, you could let a lot fall off your shoulders, but there was something about the way she was talking with the stranger that made your belly sick with envy. The green eyes you’d fallen in love with were creased around the edges, bright and full of radiant light as she continued on with the conversation that had her laughing. Her head was inclined to the side in that same dominating manner that she’d bestowed upon you mere hours ago, and although one of her hands scratched at Fanny’s coat, the other reached out to brush against the stranger's forearm. She wasn’t Wanda as she stood beneath the dark shadows branches on the tallest tree in the park projected, she was Mommy. Your smile fell quickly, the ball no longer anything interesting. 

Natasha’s hand falling onto the small of your back startled you enough for the ball to fall back into the blades of grass, slipping through your fingers like it wasn’t really there at all. You watched it slip into the tall blades, nearly concealed entirely, and you made no attempt to retrieve it as you turned your frown in her direction, the falling sun still bright enough to force you to squint as the light hit your eyes. The Russian laughed softly, her thumb rubbing softly against your clothed skin. “Got a problem, moya lyubov’?” There was a mischievous gleam in her equally squinted eyes, and you took the time to notice that surrounded by the clear blue skies and open fields, the color around her pupils was electric and undeniably green.

“Mine.” You huffed out, wanting to wriggle your body if only to make a point that you were unhappy with the entire arrangement happening before you. Your slitted eyes trailed over to Wanda once more, but the Sokovian was still oblivious to your heavy stare.

“Yeah, she’s yours, dorogaya. But, she’s also friends with Daisy.” Natasha smiled understandingly, her hand on the small of your back guiding you closer into her side. She wraps you up entirely, her cheek falling onto the top of your head as the both of you steady your glances on Wanda, and apparently Daisy. You decide quickly that you don’t like the latter. “She’s still yours, nothing is going to change that.” 

“I wanna go home.” You pout, aware that you’re being petulant, but not willing to change your mind as you detangle yourself from her arms and collect the softball without so much as a nod of acceptance from Natasha. 

It takes seventeen steps exactly to end up directly beside where Wanda’s standing with Daisy, you count each and every one as your feet pound against innocent blades of summer fresh grass. You’ll miss the softness that squishes beneath your feet when winter rolls around and everything becomes muted and harsh, but for now, you’re content to overlook the beauty of this moment in favor of getting out as quickly as you can. 

“Hey, utenok.” Wanda smiles sweetly down at you, her hand brushing against your forearm as she attempts to draw you into her side. You shrug off her touch, lips settled into a scowl as you make your way toward the bag packed with everything you could possibly need for not only the dogs, but for yourselves. You’ve been snacking all day, the tupperware of strawberries and pineapple nearly empty as you and Natasha had shoved your mouths full of the fruit an hour into your park visit. 

“We’re going home.” You say curtly, already holding onto the two solid purple leashes that would soon be attached to the solid black collars adorning the puppies necks. Wanda’s eyebrows raise not only in question, but in challenge, your dynamic having lingered in the air since that morning, but you weren’t willing to submit anymore. 

“Oh, are we?” She hums, both her and Daisy turning to watch you as you beckon Fanny and Lucky to your sides, fingers already clamping around their collars and clipping the leashes to them. You're as gentle as you can be, but Fanny’s wriggling around makes it harder to attach. You sigh in frustration, getting down on your knees to softly coax the retriever into momentary stillness. “That’s my cue Daisy.” Wanda decides to give into your decision, if only to uncover the reason behind your attitude if nothing else. You merely huff when Daisy says goodbye to not only Wanda, but you, her black painted fingernails wiggling softly beneath the setting sun before she’s back to jogging down the path, her ponytail swinging with every step she takes. 

“Nat!” You call for the Russian, watching her frolic through the field like you hadn’t told her you wanted to leave. The softball is between her fingers, and every couple of minutes she throws it back up into the air and lets it crash against her palm. Her sharp eyes find you smugly, but you’re in no mood to let her win. “Let’s go!” 

“I don’t like this little attitude, detka.” Wanda warns evenly, her eyes slitted into dangerous daggers as she peers down at you dominatingly. You merely huff at her stance, only able to picture her standing in such a way in front of Daisy. When you don’t bend like you typically do, she cocks her head to the side, green eyes begging to understand what’s happened in the last ten minutes. “What’s the problem, you were having such a good time.” 

Unable to help the eyeroll that follows her question, you don’t even bother looking up at her as you begin to set your pace for the entrance of the park, both leashes tightly between your fingers. “What does it matter to you.” You mutter, just barely able to step around her before her hand is grabbing onto your wrist and keeping you still. 

Wanda pulled you back to her chest, assuring that you wouldn’t move before she let her words slip against the softest area of your neck, chills falling down your spine as her breath tickled your sensitive skin. Her words were dangerous, calculated even, but all you could picture was her hand on Daisy’s arm when she should’ve been paying attention to you. “I would think about who you’re talking to like that, detka.” She warned, but you merely huffed and tugged your arm free. 

“Leave me alone.” You snapped, fingers curling possessively around the two leashes in hand. Lucky and Fanny, who had been more than thrilled to go on a walk, pulled at their leads with eager excitement, their golden tails wagging in tandem with the other. You didn’t fight against them, letting them lead you in the direction of the entrance, not even craning your head to assure that Wanda and Natasha were following. 

-

Much to Wanda’s annoyance, your attitude seemed to be around for the long haul. Dinner was an awkward affair, filled only with the sounds of silverware clanking against plates and the occasional comment from Wanda who had given you several chances to amend your little issue. You weren’t receptive to any of it, though each attempt dampened your panties that were now stuck uncomfortably to your throbbing core. Her hand had fallen firmly against your thigh halfway through dinner, and she spared you no ounce of pain as she squeezed the sensitive flesh each time you had the courage to roll your eyes at her or even worse, Natasha. The Russian had been merely collateral damage, but every time she chimed in at Wanda’s defense, you found yourself growing more annoyed, but worse than that, sexually frustrated. Despite the scene last night, neither of them had touched you, and with Wanda’s hand lingering so close to where you needed her, that fact had turned you into putty quickly. 

Yelena had come to pick the dogs up just after eight, only sticking around for long enough to inform Natasha of the grueling activities she’d been forced to oversee for her company’s annual donation fair. You’d never understand what it was that Yelena did exactly, but each time she talked about the job that kept her busy and moving, it was always with exuberant pride and happiness. You were happy for her little life that she adored, but you were even happier when she left and you could throw yourself at Natasha with a bruising and desperate kiss. 

Your arms looped around her neck, chests flush together as you swiped your tongue across her bottom lip, hardly caring that you were making out with the highest profile lawyer in the world right beside the open window. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to pass by could see how desperately your fingers curled into the curls at the nape of her neck, your hips having a mind of their own as you attempted to push your bodies into one. Natasha was more than receptive to your embrace, but the second you thought you’d won the fight for dominance, she backed you up against the wall, your wandering hands pinned above your head. 

“You’re not mine to have tonight, d'yavolenok.” Her hot and heavy breaths fall across your lips as she settles her forehead against yours, effectively ending whatever you had anticipated to come from the impromptu kiss. You whined, hips arching off the wall and pushing into hers, desperate to change her mind, but there was no winning tonight. The only way you were getting even an ounce of pleasure was through Wanda, and the Sokovian sat unamused on the couch, not even attempting to join in on the game you’d initiated. 

“I want you, Daddy!” You whined, pouty eyes searching for hers, but Natasha had already made up her mind, and as quickly as her hands had pinned your wrists, the touch was falling away and she was walking back toward the couch where her body sank in without protest. Wanda didn’t make any move to embrace the Russian, but it didn’t seem like Natasha had expected her to, because she curled into the arm of the couch and settled her attention on the television, entirely uninterested in your high pitched whines and stompy feet.  

“If you want something, I suggest you end your little tantrum and bring your ass over here, dorogaya. I will not tell you again to cut it out.” Wanda’s voice is stern and cold, but your feet find their way closer to her either way. You don’t ask before you settle into her lap, a pout on your lips as you press your face into her neck and hold onto her tightly. She doesn’t push you away like you’d anticipated, but you should’ve known by now that Wanda would never push you away, still the fear lingers in your mind anytime you push against her authority. Instead of handling you harshly like you’d thought would happen, her hand comes up to cradle the back of your head tenderly while her other hand settles on the small of your back beneath the t-shirt adorning your torso. Her skin is warm, not entirely cold but not exceedingly hot either. She feels perfect against you, but there's more that you want, and she’s making no indication that she’s going to give it to you. “Do you want to tell me what’s got you so fussy?” 

When you don’t answer, Wanda’s fingers tangle into your hair and pull your face away from her neck sharply. A guttural moan falls off the tip of your tongue as your head cranes backward and your eyes flutter closed. Your hips, still with a mind of their own, twitch against the thigh you’ve found a seat on, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your lower belly that rages with a fire demanding to be extinguished. “I made myself very clear, utenok. I’ve been very lenient with this attitude of yours, do not be so foolish as to think I won’t have you over my lap in the next thirty seconds.” 

You whined at her words, hips still grinding against her thigh. You’d never found yourself in this position before, never desperate enough to search for release against her thigh adorned with only freckles and the lingering presence of sunscreen, but there’s not a single coherent thought in your brain that tells you to stop and maintain the little dignity you have left. Your shorts are thin, your panties even thinner as they become soaked through entirely, and each pass of your hips against her skin feels beyond pleasurable. “M-Mine.” You just barely get the words past your lips before Wanda’s pulling at your hair again, provoking a shuddered whine that sounds entirely too high-pitched to have fallen from your lips. 

Wanda’s silent for a moment, but when she speaks again, your cheeks flush pink and you whine in embarrassment. Hearing her verbally address what’s been bothering you makes it seem so pathetic. “Is this little attitude of yours about Daisy?” She questions, the hand in your hair slipping away to instead hold tightly to your chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers beneath the lamplight drowning the living room. 

“Mine.” Your whimper is soft, entirely breathy as you search her eyes, pleading with her to understand. Wanda merely hums, a soft smile gracing her lips that had been pressed into a thin unimpressed line before she’s drawing you closer and slotting her lips against yours in a passionate embrace. You groan into her mouth when her tongue, hot and light, swipes across your bottom lip. You don’t fight her for dominance, instead allowing your lips to fall slack and accept the presence of her in your mouth. She searches every part of you with passion, her hands falling down to your hips at some point, dragging you against her thigh with intent, helping you find a steady rhythm whilst simultaneously distracting you with a bruising and head swimming kiss. 

You only pull away when you can’t handle both sensations of pleasure at once, your head swimming in fuzzy thoughts as your hips begin to stutter desperately against her thigh. Your shorts are equally as drenched as your panties, and you’re sure that with each forced drag of your hips she can feel the wetness seeping into her skin, hot and sticky with desire. You’re so painfully close, but the stimulation isn’t enough. “M-More.” You pant, head thrown back as your eyes flutter closed, your fingers tangling into her hand that’s hanging loosely down her shoulders. 

Wanda merely laughs at your desperation, the sound cruel and entirely condescending as it pairs with your desperate whines and moans. “Oh, honey. Did you really think I was going to give it to you easily? My poor little duckling, no. Either you cum on my thigh, or you don’t cum at all. Only good girls get what they want.” She taunts, dragging her teeth against the expanse of your neck, humming in contentment when you release a shaky sigh, your fingers grabbing at her desperately. 

“I-I can’t!” You cry out weakly, your hips losing their rhythm as you try to chase the pleasure that's ebbing away with each failed thrust. Her hands have stopped guiding you, sitting heavy on your thighs that frame her waist. 

“My dumb little baby needs Mommy’s help with everything, huh?” The Sokovian ridicules, but her hands find a home on your hips either way, beginning to guide your pace again. She’s ruthless, quick with her motions and entirely controlling, but it gets you back at the top of that mountain of bliss in seconds, and your whines of frustrations become moans of desperation. You’re so close, so painfully close that you can taste the wisps of pleasure that dance across your vision, but it’s still not enough. Wanda’s enjoying herself entirely, each rock of your hips forcing your body to roll against her own dripping core, and the sounds of Natasha’s moans fill your ears albiet vaguely, your own pleasure drowning out the sounds of hers. Still, you don’t even have to look at the Russian to know that her hand has disappeared beneath her shorts and her fingers are glistening with her own arousal. “Come on, detka. Cum for Mommy, be a good girl.” 

Your moans become frantic when Wanda flexes her thigh beneath your weight, giving you just the right addition of something more. Thatall it takes for you to fall off the edge and cum on her thigh, your panties absolutely saturated in pleasure when you finally stutter to a stop against her chest. The Sokovian’s moans are broken and soft as her head tips backward and she meets the same fate as you. You sink against her chest, pushing closer into her as you whimper in sensitivity, trying to wiggle away from her thigh and settle fully in her lap. 

“Mine.” You whisper against her skin, inhaling the traces of grapefruit that have dissipated throughout the day, but if you focus on her scent hard enough, the faintest tinge of fruit still linger around the collar of her shirt. Your hand searches for hers, and she allows you to grab onto it easily, guiding up to your lips as your eyes flutter close and you embrace the darkness that comes with it. Her thumb is heavy against your tongue as you bite at it softly. 

“All yours, detka. Just yours.” Wanda promises, her lips ghosting across the top of your head when she adjusts the position she’s in so that she can lean against Natasha’s chest, assuring that you're safe against her chest as her own eyes flutter closed. “Nothing is going to change that.” 

The hand that isn’t held captive dips beneath your shirt again, and her nails scratch soft lines across your spine as you melt further into her, eyes only peeling open when you become desperate to hear the same reassurances from Natasha. “Mine.” Your words vibrate against Wanda’s skin, and the lawyer smiles fondly down at you.  “You’re mine, sweetheart.” Natasha’s hand falls gently onto your cheek, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone as she holds you tenderly. “You’re ours.”

[another-lost-mc]

Feel the Heat Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.7k words | NSFW | afab!Reader | Shameless Smut Content warnings: Poly!Reader, demon heats (vaguely mentioned), rough sex, marking, demon forms mentioned (Lucifer, Levi, Satan), facesitting, possessiveness/jealousy, consensual somnophilia. A/N: Read the other Feel the Heat fics: Royals Edition | Newspaper Club Edition.

It’s tempting to make a joke about how the demon brothers’ cycles in the House of Lamentation are in sync, because it’s true. They’re like dominoes - once the first piece falls, the others fall shortly after.

Even though they don’t like to talk about it, you’ve learned enough about demon heat cycles to spot the symptoms. In the days leading up to their heats, some of them (Asmo and Beel) are more aggressive and pick petty fights; some of them (Levi and Belphie) are even more withdrawn than usual while they start to nest; and the others (Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan) pretend it’s not happening and try to carry on normally, like they have something to prove.

You’re finishing some simple meal prep in anticipation of long, tiring days ahead. They’re going to be too distracted to cook, and you’re going to be too exhausted to do it for them. There’s cold sandwiches and bowls of Hellfire chili ready until the worst of it passes. You don’t mind doing this for them now; you know they’ll take care of you later.

You head back to your room and notice when the mood inside the house shifts. Even you can sense that something has suddenly changed. It’s like there’s a storm brewing around you; the temperature rises, and the air crackles with anticipation. The brothers are scattered throughout the house but it’s unusually quiet. 

The pieces have fallen and you know they’re all waiting for you. The only thing left to decide is, who do you visit first?

LUCIFER

Lucifer hangs onto the barest threads of control and propriety even in his heats, and only when you’re naked and willing beneath him does he finally let his instincts take over.

He’s not usually rough with you - not at first, and not unless you beg for him to fuck you harder, or faster. He overwhelms you with his presence until all you know and see and feel is him. He cages you between his arms and grinds his cock into you while his wings twitch at his back. His body is heavy but comforting, and you know he is both protecting and possessing you in your vulnerable state.

He brushes his lips against your skin and muffles his groans into your neck. When your walls flutter around his cock and squeeze him like a vice, he sucks on your pulse point. The friction of his hips rocking against you teases your clit until pleasure sweeps through you like a wave coming onto shore: it’s pleasant and beautiful, but it’s not enough - for either of you.

If you stare into his crimson eyes and beg him for more, he's completely powerless to resist you. His cock slips from your body, and he's distracted by the sight of his cum trailing out of your hole and into your folds. You feel so empty without his cock inside you, and your keening whine in his ears makes him shudder. He’ll give you the world if you can be patient a little longer; his raspy voice promises that you won’t be empty for long. He smooths his hands down your sides and squeezes your hips while he maneuvers you how he wants you.

When he slams his cock back inside you, your thighs are folded against your chest and he can plunge even deeper than before. He has better leverage in this position and his thrusts are more powerful. You cry out when he pulls out until the tip teases your entrance, then he thrusts back inside in rough, fast strokes. He wants to feel you come on his cock, and he reaches between your bodies to rub at your puffy clit. He spills deep inside you as you scream his name, and the lustful haze that clouds his mind fades, replaced by primal satisfaction - for now, until the cycle begins again.

MAMMON

Mammon is your first for a reason and even in his heat, he wants to treat you right. He’s already naked when you enter his room and his skin glistens with sweat. He was pumping his cock lazily while he waited, a last-ditch effort to dull the aching need burning within his chest. It’s like slow torture when he watches you undress, and even though you’re not trying to put on a show for him, it's still the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. He bites his lip to stay quiet, but you can still hear the groans and bitten-off curses that escape him.

When you’re finally naked and walking towards him, his gaze lingers at the mound between your legs. He watches the soft, fleshy skin of your thighs jiggle and he can't help but lick his lips hungrily. He pats his chest and he lays down while you crawl on your knees towards him. He reaches for your thighs so he can pull you up, until you’re finally hovering over his face. You catch a glimpse of his hungry eyes below you and heat pools in your belly. He surges forward at the same moment he pulls you down to meet his mouth. You feel the vibrations of his moan ripple through you, and you gasp.

He pants between open-mouthed kisses against your skin, and he licks thick stripes from your clit to your hole, up and down, over and over again. You hold onto the headboard for leverage so you can rock your hips against his face. His arms are wrapped around your thighs to help guide your movements. He groans your name and mumbles how sweet you taste and how good you smell and how wet you are.

He’s desperate to drink your ecstasy down his throat before he fucks you so he moves his mouth even faster against you. He slips one hand between your legs so he can spread your folds apart. He teases your entrance with his thick fingers, and his lips press hot kisses against your clit. He doesn’t stop until his face is slick with your cum, and you scream his name as you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

His cock is throbbing between his legs with his own desire to fuck you senseless, but he waits until you’re ready. When your thighs stop shaking, he helps you shuffle back down his body. You think he wants you to ride him, but suddenly he rolls you both over so he’s on top of you. He bares his fangs in triumph when he finally sinks inside you.

LEVIATHAN

When you enter Levi’s room, he’s naked and writhing in the nest he made for you in his tub. His tail thumps against the porcelain while he ruts against one of his body pillows. His aching cock leaks pitifully against the fabric, and he doesn’t even register that you’re nearby until you brush back the sweat-slicked hair from his eyes. He whimpers your name and whines when you pull away to take off your clothes.

He tosses the pillow aside when you climb into the tub and straddle his hips. His tail coils around your leg to ground himself. His vision is still a bit blurry from sweat and tears of frustration, and he humps blindly against you. The head of his cock slips through your folds and he moans at the sensation, but it’s not enough. You shush him and guide him inside properly - he tilts his head back with a stuttered sigh when he finally sinks into the wet heat of your body.

His rhythm is uneven and desperate, and you lean forward and hold onto the edge of the tub for leverage as you meet his erratic thrusts. He pants loudly and stares at your chest - your breasts are bouncing with each roll of your hips and it’s so hot. He can’t decide whether he wants to hold onto your hips or squeeze your ass, so he alternates doing both. When you’re both close, you beg for him to touch you so you can come together. You guide his hand to your clit, and he barely manages to hold off his own orgasm while he strokes you through yours first.

SATAN

He probably doesn’t realize it, but Satan has two very distinct preferences when it comes to fucking you during his heat. 

If he’s one of the first brothers to take you, he doesn’t seem much different at first. He walks you to his bed, but he doesn’t push you down; he tries to savor the experience and treat you delicately so he doesn’t hurt you. You undress each other slowly, and his hands are gentle when he strokes your skin. When you’re both naked, he pulls you against him and kisses you. He’s trembling under your hands and his hard, twitching cock is trapped between your bodies; his body betrays the tender confidence he tries to show you. When he finally lays you down and settles between your legs, he rocks inside you and laces your fingers together above your head. When he comes, he whimpers loving praise into the crook of your neck where your scent is strongest.

If you go to Satan after you’ve been with Lucifer already, well - he’s a bit rougher, like he’s trying to make you forget the memories of Lucifer’s body with his own. His demon form emerges as soon as he smells Lucifer’s scent on you. His kisses are sloppier, and he pants against your lips as his hands tear through your clothes until he finds bare skin. He strokes his cock while he waits for you to get into position - you kneel on the bed and lean down until your shoulders and chest touch the mattress. Sometimes he holds one of your arms behind your back so you can do nothing but squirm on his cock while he fucks you; other times, he fists his hand in your hair and growls approvingly when the jolts of pleasure and pain make you whimper into the pillow. When he comes, he pulls out partway through so he can paint your skin with his release; he watches his cum trickle down your ass and thighs with primal satisfaction.

ASMODEUS

Asmo's room is dark when you open the door and slip inside. You start to undress right away because you know he's probably naked already and eager to begin. You hear a familiar purr deep within his chest, and you see the flash of his bright, clementine eyes across the room, and then he’s upon you.

He pushes you against the door and kisses you like he’s starved for you. He moans when he flicks his tongue against yours, and he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. Your lips are slick and swollen from his biting kisses by the time he starts mouthing along your jaw.

His hands slide down your back and over your ass before he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively and you both cry out when he sheathes inside of you in one smooth motion. He sucks a trail of marks into your skin as he fucks you; he groans when one of your hands slides through his hair, and the other clasps onto his shoulder. He whimpers when your nails dig into his skin. 

You’re squeezing his cock so perfectly and there’s a deliciously wet, obscene sound every time he draws his hips back and slams into you again. He slips his hand between your bodies and massages your clit precisely the way you like; he’s not going to last and he wants to feel you come on his cock. It only takes a few strokes before your head tilts back and his name spills from your lips with a breathy cry. He buries his satisfied grin against your neck and moans his own pleasure as your walls milk him for everything he has.

BEELZEBUB

Beel usually comes to your room before you can find him in his. He prefers to take you in your bed because it's saturated in your scent - he'd drown in it if he could. Your door is open and you don’t realize that he’s watching you. When you finally sense his presence, you can see how hungry his gaze is; the outline of his hard cock strains against his pants. He’s across your room in an instant and pulling you into his arms. He hastily removes your clothes in search of bare skin; his hands shake slightly and his movements are a bit stiff - he’s trying to be gentle.

He undresses himself while he watches you get comfortable on the bed. By the time he’s naked, you’re waiting on your hands and knees. You wiggle your hips playfully to tease him - and after he kneels behind you, he smacks your ass lightly before he squeezes the soft flesh in his hand in apology. He teases his cock between your folds before he finally guides it inside, and you both groan as he splits you open. He likes this position best - he wraps a hand around your shoulder and pulls you back onto him while driving his cock into you with deep, powerful thrusts.

You whimper his name and choke on your moans every time his cock brushes over that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl. Your walls clench around his cock and it spurs him into even more of a frenzy. He doesn’t lose control, but you feel completely at his mercy as he takes what he needs from you.

You reach down between your legs and tease your clit when you sense he’s getting close, and you both come together. His hips stutter while he empties himself into you, and he collapses at your side so he doesn’t crush you. He holds you close while you both catch your breath. He falls asleep murmuring your name, while a trickle of drool leaks from the corner of his mouth.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie nests in the attic and sleeps fitfully while he waits for you to come to him. He doesn’t bother wearing clothes - he’s too hot and they scratch his skin unpleasantly. The sheets are tangled around his legs, and his cock lays hard and heavy against his belly. The tip is leaking and you can see it twitch when you approach him; even in his sleep, he senses your presence and his body begs for you.

You don’t bother taking off your shirt. You peel off your pants and underwear then kneel on the bed over his hips. He moans gently when you stroke his cock, and his hands clench the sheets when you lower yourself onto him. He finally wakes up - his eyes are watery, but you can still see the lustful haze that darkens them. He whimpers when you start rolling your hips in a slow, shallow rhythm. His hands squeeze and scratch at your thighs when you start to quicken your pace and ride him with more desperation.

He whines and tugs at the hem of your shirt, and you stop long enough to lift your shirt over your head and toss it aside. You’re surprised when his hips start thrusting up into you with more force than before, and you catch yourself on your hands when you lose your balance. He hums like this is exactly what he wanted, and his greedy mouth trails along your breasts until he can suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He can’t help himself - your breasts bounce so delightfully when he fucks you. He moves between them greedily, mouthing at the skin and sucking on each of your nipples.

You wind your fingers through his hair and tilt your head back as your pleased sighs and moans grow louder. The relentless friction of his pelvis grinding against your clit sends you over the edge first. He follows shortly after, whining pathetically as he buries his face against your chest.

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Squirting

Bucky had been at it for hours. Taunting you. Teasing you. Tantalizing. Tormenting. His fingers, be it flesh or vibranium, tickled your skin with the tiniest of pressures. Enough to get your blood pumping. The pulps of his calloused digits pushed into your skin, kneading, fondling, massaging every inch of your body. He knew exactly how to read you, how to arouse you. From the feather light brushes against your abdomen to the deep pressure on your thighs.

“Look how beautiful you are.”

He hushed your pleading whines and kissed away your petulant pouts. He reassured you that he simply wanted to take his time. But his eyes told a different story. The determined glint in those beautiful blues told you that he had a plan. 

“Let me take care of you.”

The way he moved was exquisite, smooth, like fluid. Bucky’s ministrations were so distracting that you only realized he was undressing you when your tank top caught the tip of your nose. He apologized, nuzzling you, peppering kisses over the offended organ. He never failed to make you feel loved, even when he was planning on doing the dirtiest things to you.

“I love you like this.”

Exposed. Fully. Stripped bare of every thread that covered your form. That’s how he liked it. Bucky loved having access to each and every part of you. He worked on all your sensitive areas, intimately familiar with how your nipples responded to his touch. Under his attention, they had the ability to grow as tall as mountains and as hard as diamonds. He chuckled darkly as you writhed with pleasure beneath him.

"Just like that, Doll?"

You nodded, your mind lost in the moment. His lips left marks as worked on your skin. He was the artist and you were his canvas, ready to be molded to his pleasing. There were no limits to his abilities to draw out your beauty. 

“I will coax every gasp, every moan, every noise I can get out of you.”

He didn't waste time in making good on his assurances.  Bucky put his talented tongue to use, licking thick stripes over your folds. It left you crying out for more, only for him to oblige. His lips formed a circle around your clit, which he gave a warning lick before applying the perfect amount of pressure to make you scream. Bucky watched out of the top corners of his eyes as you arched your back and clutched at the bedsheets.

“I'm here. I'm right here. Hold onto me.”

Next he introduced you to his fingers, smooth and cold but once they were coated in your slick arousal, they slid in and out of your sheath with ease. Bucky felt you stretch as he pushed in and out, caressing your walls with his dark and golden digits. He was an expert in finding that special place where you were most sensitive and made the most of his talents. Brushing against you with the most erotic pace. His lips pressed against the top of your head.

“Wish I could fuck you right now. I want you to sit on my cock, be so deep inside you until you’re screaming for everyone to hear… ‘til you forget who you are and all you can think about is how good I make you feel. But that’s not the plan. I want to make you squirt all over my pants and ruin them.”

You gasped at his words. He let the pressure build within you at an agonizingly slow pace. Every movement elicited its own special sound from you, he played your body like an instrument to the tune of a symphony of his desires. Everyone of these notes rang with the melody of your pleasure.

“Are you going to give me what I want, Doll? Are you going to come for me?”

Bucky murmured as he continued to bring you closer to your climax. An old familiar feeling coiled inside of you, ready to be released at any moment. He pulled your hips into his lap, looking hungrily at your sex, like he could devour you right there. But he had a plan and he was going to follow through. He licked his flesh fingers and pressed them against your swollen nub. Rubbing perfect circles to drive you over the edge. You squeezed your eyes shut as your walls clenched around him. Waves of ecstasy rolling through your body. Back arched. Toes curled. Heart pounded. Bucky's plan came to fruition as your sweet juices poured out around his fingers.

“That's my girl. You did such a good job for me. Just look at this mess you've made. All for me.”

He smiled down at you, looking proud of his pretty princess.