#v begging part of this pattern

[theshadowrealmitself]

If it’s worth doing then it’s worth doing badly I chant through tears while trying to knit a god damned triceratops

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

[pit-and-the-pen]

Greedy Little Thing

Requested:

Hii just saw your blog for the first time and I'm in love😭😭. Also saw your asks are open and I strongly believe that the needy Az fic deserves a part two with needyyyy reader (begging) please please pleaseeee. We know Az will be brilliant at thissss.

This was so much fun to write. This is really just pure filth.

Technically a part 2 to this request but it’s not required!

Warnings: so much teasing, oral (f receiving), edging/ orgasm denial, some implied cum eating, creampie, p in v sex (18+), dirty talk, praise, Azriel being a little shit.

WC:3.1K

You very rarely got to see your mate dressed up. So used to seeing him in his training leathers that seeing him in anything else had you practically drooling. But seeing him in dress clothes was enough to bring you to your knees, black button down rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants that showed off his glorious thighs and ass. Your mate was hot, more than hot, he was built like a god. 

“Did you need something, doll?” He spoke. You realized you had come into the room for something. You were going to tell him something but all thoughts eddied out of your brain the moment you saw him. 

“You.” The world tumbled out of your mouth without you thinking. He chuckled lightly as he noticed your stare. And just to tease you, he flexed his arms making the veins pop ever so slightly. You imagined running your tongue over them and heat pooled deep in your belly. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten that we have plans tonight.” He was suddenly right in front of you. His finger hooking under your chin to make you look up at him. 

“We do?” Your voice was breathless, needy and whiny as you tried to recall where exactly you had to be that would keep you from climbing Azriel like a tree. 

“Cassian’s birthday party?” He asked more than spoke. Shit. That was what you had come here for. You needed to know where the wrapping paper went. The fancy thick ones that even Cassian had trouble tearing into. 

“What time does it start?” You broke your eyes away from him to peer at the clock on your nightstand. It was just a little past 5.

“Six. And you still need to get dressed.” You felt a pout rise on your face and Azriel’s thumb popped your bottom lip. He leaned down and gave you a chaste kiss. Well it was supposed  to be chaste but you got your arms around his neck before he could pull away. Teeth instantly sink into his bottom lip. He groaned and trailed his hands over your waist. He used his grip to pull you away from him, stepping back until your arms were fully extended around his shoulders. 

“Keep that up, princess, and we won’t go at all.”

‘Is that a bad thing?” 

“Nesta will come get us herself with how much planning she’s done.” You sighed heavily as he stepped out of your hold, your body instantly missing his warmth. 

“Go get ready and I’ll finish wrapping his present. Since that’s what you came in here looking for.” The bastard knew the whole time but had wanted to rile you up. Fine. Two can play that game. You spun on your heel and stomped over to the closet.

The dress you picked was one you had just gotten. Intricately cut patterns of fabric that covered just enough to be decent. It wasn’t your usual color, opting to not get it in your favorite sapphire blue but instead a red so dark it was almost purple. It matched your skin tone so wonderfully and brought out the color of your eyes. You left your hair down, letting it flow naturally over your shoulder, covering the exposed skin the dress left. Grabbing the matching heels, you slipped out of the closet and headed to grab the set of bracelets Azriel had recently gotten you. 

You struggled to clasp them, holding the delicate chain as it continued to slip out of your grasp. You gave a frustrated noise after the third attempt and went to go find your mate to help you. 

“Az.” You called into the house. Not knowing where he was. 

“In here.” He answered from his study. The door was opened so you walked in, still holding the bracelet to your wrist. You held it out for him, not even looking up. 

“I need your help.” You finally looked at him when you didn’t get a response and felt the surge of lust down the bond. His eyes hungirly roved over your figure. The tight dress clinging to the plush of your breast, your stomach and thighs. He licked his lips as he walked over to you. Azriel took your outstretched wrist with a careful hand and managed to clasp the silver bracelet. 

He placed a soft kiss to your pulse point before pulling you against him. A soft grunt leaving you as you crashed against his chest. His free hand rested on the skin of your back, left open with the low cut of the dress. 

“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart.” He said against the shell of your ear. You fought back a shiver as his breath tickled your neck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You asked me to get ready.” Your words would have been convincing if it wasn’t for the smell of your arousal in the air. Azriel peeled his hand away from you to catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. 

“Ten minutes.” Was all he said before he knelt down in front of you. Your hands followed him down, clutching onto him and settling on his shoulders. He was quick to sling your leg over his shoulder. Opening you up to him. He ran the tip of his nose along the center of your underwear, drinking in your scent. 

“You’re drenched for me, sweetheart.” 

“Az-” You mewled as he reached up to tug your panties to the side. Your hands slid into his hair as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit. Teasing the bundle of nerves with feather-light strokes. Your nails dug into his scalp, focusing on the hints of pleasure he was giving you. A breathy “please” leaving your mouth was all it took for him to unleash himself. His pace was merciless, the sounds of his lips on your mingling perfectly with your loud cries. Your legs wobbled slightly and he wrapped an arm around you. Giving you leverage to ride his face, your hips bucking in time with his tongue. 

He had you rapidly approaching your peak. Broken version of his name falling over your lips. 

“Az I’m gonna-” And right as you felt that clench deep in your stomach, he was pulling away. 

A loud cry of outrage left you as you stared down at him. Chest heaving as he placed your foot back down on the ground and stood up to his full height again. He smoothed your dress back into place on your hips, squeezing lightly as he did. 

You felt hot all over, pulse thrumming across your skin. Words failed you as Azriel licked his lips, cleaning your glistening arousal off of his face. 

“I-I was so close.” You whined, closing your eyes as if trying to will the feeling to come back. 

“And maybe now you’ll listen to me when I tell you to wait and not try to tease me like a brat.” He tapped your cheek, a silent request for you to open your eyes. “Now you can be frustrated all night while I decide if I’m going to let you cum.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. “Please. I’ll be good. Please let me cum.” 

He placed a small kiss on your forehead before looking at his watch again. He picked up the present and held an arm out for you. You didn’t hesitate, although a little pouty, to grab it as he winnowed you to the venue Nesta had picked out. 

The girls had spared no expense, and it was obvious as you looked around. Cassian normally wasn’t one for big parties but the century birthdays were always a big deal. Nesta had turned the club into an almost intimate setting but the music thumping through the sound system had your pulse skyrocketing again. You felt it everywhere, still so worked up with not being able to cum. Azriel rubbed small circles into your back, encouraging you to relax. 

“I’ll get us drinks.” He said as he placed another kiss to the top of your head. 

The club was still open to the public tonight, Nesta had just reserved the top floor for Cassian’s party. He would still want to dance with Nesta and she was fully aware of that. You looked around the room for the rest of your friends and quickly spotted them. Cassian's wings sticking out among the crowd. He already had Nesta pulled tight against him. You caught her eye and she pulled away from him with a cat-like smile before she focused on you. You extended the present out to her and she took it to add to the growing pile on one of the tables. 

“You made it.” She gave you a smirk that let you know you must not have been as composed as you thought you were. “I’m surprised with you wearing…that.” She covered her laugh as you rolled your eyes. 

“Azriel was very insistent on being here on time.” As you looked for your other friends you felt your anger rising. No one else had shown up yet, you and Az being the first other couple here. Frustration overrode the lust still buzzing below your skin until you felt Azriel join your side. 

He handed you your drink, suddenly very grateful for the cool glass against your hand. 

“How did you convince them to let you decorate?” Azriel asked Nesta who merely shrugged in response. 

“I’m persuasive.” She responded and you felt the urge to laugh at the image of her storming into the club managers office and demanding them to let her essentially redo half of the club. You took a deep sip of your drink as the rest of your family slowly started to arrive. Feyre and Rhys first, with a small mountain of gifts. Mor, Emerie and Gwen arrive next. Elain and Lucien after, and even Amren. 

Eventually rounds of shots were poured as everyone started to get started for the night. Cassian was glowing with happiness as he danced with Nesta, then Feyre and eventually you. He spun you in a large circle as you tipped your head back laughing. He had gotten better at dancing since being with Nesta, a fact she was very proud of. He had two left feet and no rhythm before he met her. 

The song faded into the next and you excused yourself from the dance floor to get another drink. Azriel was right behind you, hands seeming to gravitate towards your waist and back. He had left teasing touches all over skin the entire night and it was enough to have your thighs clenching together as your mind drifted to the unfinished events in his office. 

“You seem tense, sweetheart.” His hands going to rest on your shoulders, fingers rubbing at the tight muscles around your neck. You leaned into his touch, biting back a moan at the feeling of him touching you so intimately. He chuckled as he pulled away, a deep frown on your face. He was still riling you up, hours after and it was working perfectly. Your thighs were sticking with your arousal. 

“Az, please.” You plead, not entirely sure what you were begging for. For him to stop, for him to pull you into the bathroom of the club and finally finish what he started. 

“Behave.” Was all he said as he pulled you to the center of the dance floor, you drink still waiting on the bar top. 

He pulled you tight against him as the song shifted to something slower, something more sensual. His hips dug into yours perfectly, meeting you beat for beat. Your hands were digging into the front of his shirt, clutching onto the fabric to stop yourself from melting into a pool at his feet. His hands ghosting along your waist, over your sides, brushing every inch of exposed skin had you panting against him. You pulled him down to meet your lips, a sigh escaping both of you as you did. His hands went to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His tongue parted your lips and he licked into your mouth. Demanding every bit of your attention. 

You didn’t realize he had backed you into a corner until you felt the wall behind you. It gave you leverage to grind your hips against him. A small part of you was satisfied as you felt his rock hard length through his pants. He pulled away from the kiss, eyes dark and pupils blown. He was matching your breathing, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath. 

You reached your hand down before he caught your wrist and pulled you away from his waistband. 

“I told you to behave.” He growled in your ear. The sound was so perfect it made you want to cry out in frustration. You felt it everywhere. Your toes curl in your heels as you whine. 

“Az. You proved your point. I’ll listen.” Your voice is high pitched. 

“Look at you, so needy for me. I bet you would let me fuck you right here?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought. He laughed darkly at your response. “You would, wouldn’t you. My little slut, so needy for my cock she’d let me fuck her in a room full of strangers.” He bit the junction between your neck and shoulders had a loud moan falling from your lips. 

“Az-” He silenced you with a kiss. Hips driving into yours, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped a leg around his waist, exposing your dripping core to him. He growled low in his chest and you felt the world moving around you. 

Next thing you felt was the plush of your large bed underneath you. 

“You want me that badly, princess?” He was already unbuttoning his shirt, his toned chest slowly becoming visible. You nodded, your throat suddenly feeling dry. A small slap to the inside of your thigh had you crying out a yes. 

He leaned over you, arms caging in each side of your head. He eyed you up, a smirk plastered on his face as you panted under him. He reached out and flipped you over so you were in his lap. Straddling his hips, your heels hanging off the edge of the bed. Your hand slipped behind you to take them off but his words stopped you. 

“Keep them on.” Was all he said before he started trailing kisses over your collarbone, down to the space between your breasts. You wanted the dress off, wiggling your hips to tell him as much. Azriel didn’t hesitate. Hands coming up the zipper of the dress and pulling it down excruciatingly slow. He pulled away long enough to slip the scrap of fabric over your head, you arms raising and falling against his chest with a loud smack. He leaned back on his elbows, drinking in your figure. Your skin flushed with need, eyes wide and wild. You leaned down and started placing open mouth kisses on his exposed chest. You went to slide off of his lap before a firm hand stopped you. 

“As much as I would love to see your pretty mouth wrapped around me. I want to be inside of you.” You could have cried with relief at the words. But you should have known there would be a catch. He didn’t waste another second before he was slipping inside of you. Hours worth of teasing making it almost too easy for him to fill you. You sniffled as you sunk down completely. Already drunk off the feeling of him. 

His hands found themselves on either side of your hips, urging you to move at the pace he set. You own arms hooking around his neck as you pull yourself closer to his chest. YOur head rolled back until you were looking at the ceiling, body bouncing with each thrust as you could do nothing but take everything he gave you. 

You felt that coil tightening again in your stomach. Your thighs clenching around his waist, trying to take him deeper. 

“You’re taking my cock so well, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you are.” 

You could do nothing but cling to him tighter, your moans mingling with his own groans. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding. The bed shook across the floor as he continued to drive his hips against yours, again and again. Your whole body clenched as you were about to tip over the edge and right as you went to cry out for him. He pulled out, flipping you over so you were suddenly under him. You cried out again. 

“Az. Please.” He kissed your cheek, trying to sooth you as you reached out for him. He waited a few heartbeats before he lined himself back up with your entrance and pushed in. 

“Are you gonna be good?” He asked. You would have said yes to whatever he wanted, anything to let you cum for him. You were nodding, voice horse from the pitch of your moans. 

He grabbed your ankles and pushed your thighs up to meet your shoulders, driving his hips with his whole body. You felt every wonderful inch of him this way, could feel how tight your walls were pulling him in. His skin was dewey as a layer of sweat clung to both of you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your legs started to shake. Your body so exhausted already as you tried to lift your hips up to meet him. 

“Cum for me, my sweet, beautiful, girl.” He pressed his nose into your shoulder, biting down right as you hit your high. You shuddered in his arms, which tightened around you. Letting you ride out your high as his hips slowed down, grinding against you. It was only a few more moments before he was growling into your ear. HIs hips stilling as he pumped you full of his release. You stayed wrapped around him, basking in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms you had ever had. Body finally relaxing against him. He pulled out of you slowly, your releases spilling out and running down your thigh. Azriel’s eyes went right to the mess between your legs and you saw that glint of hunger that told you the night was only beginning. 

He started to trail kisses down your stomach until he laid flat against the bed. 

“I think I owe you more than one, princess.” And brought his lips to your folds for the second time tonight.

[yandere-sins]

this is v dark, oops! but i was thinking about an apologetic sadist. like they rlly fucking love you, but they can’t help themselves! they’re obsessed with the sight of you battered, bruised, bleeding. needing 2 have you despite your protests, begging you 2 be quiet for them, to stop struggling, apologising 4 having 2 gag you because they love the sounds you make, but they just need 2 let off a bit of steam, by fucking you, cutting you, whatever. is this too specific? if you can’t make a fic out of it, i’d at least love 2 hear your thoughts on it ^^ take care! — sending my love 2 your kind soul, mwah!

Oooh, that's fun! Thanks for requesting!

Warning: Yandere, Violence, Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ Imagine being kidnapped and waking up to an absolute psycho standing above you. They are almost ripping off their own skin as they watch you stir on the chair, infatuation driving them mad. "You're so beautiful," they groan as they reach out. You flinch as they plant their palm on your cheek and caress you, and you are appalled at their touch, but when you open your mouth to argue, they pinch your cheek hard. Not like your grandparents would, but to the point it feels like they are trying to rip out a part of your face.

♡ At this point, you don't know that it's just the beginning. That they are testing out how your skin feels underneath their fingertips. How it stretches and bends. How hard they have to squeeze to make you bruise. Your first bruise is special. It's so beautiful they start crying, sinking to the ground and weeping into your legs, their grip crass as they squeeze your thighs, dig their nails until you jerk and whine, unable to stop feeling you and making you squirm even as they beg for forgiveness, explain they couldn't help themselves from hurting you.

♡ You still think you can reason with the yan, tell them you'll forgive them but they need to let you go. Something is clearly wrong in their head, and you begin to panic when they tug away your shirt, exposing your belly. They lap at the softer skin, bring it between their teeth, and bite down as if you were a dish served to them rather than a living being. You scream and kick, but still, they only release you when they want. "Sorry, did that hurt?" they ask, and you think they are mocking you, but there is genuine concern in their expression as they reach up to wipe away your tears, blood staining their lips red.

♡ You fight for a long time and endure so many "love" bites and scratches. As long as your kidnapper feels you up like a bendable piece of meat, and you make it clear you don't like it. They get angry when you ask them to let you go than when you scream and curse at the pain they are inflicting, but when they take out the knife for the first time, you become eerily quiet. "Talk to me," they demand, prying your mouth open by forcing their thumb inside. Your voice cracks as you plead with them not to kill you, and they chuckle, responding that it "depends on you."

♡ The blade is sharp, yet they drag it over your skin like a paintbrush. It burns, and you sob harder after every cut as they keep painting obscure patterns into your skin. All the while, the yan is smiling from ear to ear like a child on their birthday, and when you finally cried yourself to exhaustion, they reach up, praising you for being so good for them. You think they are finally done as they throw the knife aside, but before you know it, their mouth crashes into yours, their lips and tongue completely overtaking every autonomy you have. When you try to turn your head away, they bite down on your tongue, dragging it out from your lips and catching it between their fingers, playing with it while you whimper. You want them to stop, so when they kiss you again you let them, reciprocrating their kiss in the hopes it will finally satisfy them.

♡ Satisfy it did, and you are finally released. You are so exhausted and bloody, the fear and shock slowly make you pass out. But with the ropes gone that bound you to the chair, there is also hope as the psycho picks you up and carries you to a dirty bed. Hope that you can fight them and escape. Hope that you will live. Your palm hits them square in the face before you can think of a plan, and your captor grows stiff as a board before their eyes pin you down, angry, mad. And then they grin as if you had just challenged them to a friendly duel. You endure a dozen slaps, feeling the swelling around your face as you apologize, pleading for them to stop.

♡ Suddenly, they do, and you both stare at each other. Their expression contorts as they start crying, their tears dripping onto you, and you're not sure if what you're seeing is real. "I'm so sorry, baby! You made me do this! It must have hurt so bad, I'm so sorry!" It's hard to keep eye contact, but you do your best as they weep bitterly, their body crashing down onto your chest as they plead for forgiveness, hugging you tightly. You feel no such thing. How could you forgive the torture they are putting you through? "Is that what you want? A punching bag?"

♡ "Oh, no. No, no, no, baby," they reply. "I only want you. I love you. You are so beautiful." They kiss you again, and you don't get to argue with them before you finally pass out.

♡ You awake to a hot, wet feeling between your legs, the discomfort of the pain all over your body, and a pleasurable tingle giving you very different signals. Even if you don't remember them tying you to the bed, you find it hard to move, forcing your neck upwards far enough to look down your body, seeing the bloody hands gripping you as your captor cheekily grins from between your legs.

♡ Reality hits hard with the first orgasm. You shamefully cry out in pleasure, moan as they push you over the edge, and enjoy your writhing and fluids to the fullest. "Stop!" you scream as they keep tormenting you with more and more pleasure, their lust and hunger seemingly endless. You feel them grin against your privates, and you are so angry that it is all a game to them. "Your body begs to differ," they mumble smugly, and your anger grows. "I said stop!" you yell, trying to kick them when they keep ignoring you.

♡ Unfortunately, you do little harm to them, but their brows furrow in annoyance as they finally let off you. They click their tongue and wipe their chin before getting off, roughly throwing your leg out of the way so they can pass without getting kicked again. Your body is forced to move in ways you've been too restricted for, and it hurts, but you clench your teeth and endure it. But your eyes go wide as your captor returns with a ball on a leather band, and you know exactly what they want to do.

♡ "Stop resisting! I've got enough of your complaining! I'm being so good to you!" they argue as they try to put the gag in your mouth. You try so hard to avoid it, but when they grab your nose and slam the gag between your lips the moment you gasp for air, you're done for. You can only cry as they tie it tightly around your skull before heaving a big sigh, a gentle smile returning to the yandere's lips as they wipe the tears away, telling you that it's "only for the best" and that they "need a break from your brattiness."

♡ You're turned over, barely able to breathe as the yandere forces your head into the pillow. You startle and shriek as you feel their fingers reaching down to your hole, inevitably preparing you for what they arranged. You cry some more as you feel them getting ready themselves. Still, both of you moan pathetically as they push past your entrance, sliding in so easily after all the foreplay they did. "That's it," they coo, "you feel so good, darling. You're so pretty when you shut the fuck up. I know you're scared, but you're doing so well."

♡ "You don't know how much I wanted this. I've been craving this moment for so long." With a handful of your hair in their grip, you're forced to arch your back, making them groan as you tighten around them. "That's it, look at you taking it like a champ. As if you were made for me."

♡ Tears keep spilling even when the yan licks them off your face. They bury their mouth at the soft spot between your neck and shoulder, biting down to the point your voice is nothing more than a gurgle as they plow into you, stretching you beyond recovery. They are rough and uncaring, but whenever they speak, they tell you about how great you are and how well you're doing. As if they knew you for a long time. "Finally!" they rejoice as the relentless hammering of their hips becomes erratic. "You don't know how much I needed this. Needed you. I've been thinking about it so long, ah... Fuck, I'm going to come so hard, darling! I'll make you so happy!"

♡ You should have been happy it was over as the yan collapses, spent and giddy. Kissing your face and playing with your abused hole as you feel your soul break. They peel off the gag, lapping up the drool dripping from your lips as they kiss you gently, their hands cupping your cheeks so lovingly. "I know it hurts," they whisper as they rub your back, burying your face in their body. "But you did so well! You behaved so good, my love!"

♡ When you don't react, their voice becomes more desperate, their hand clawing into your back. You hiss in pain as they yank your head back, forcing you to face them. "Are you ignoring me on purpose? Did I hurt you so much? Didn't you feel good? Was I too rough? Are you mad at me?" The rapid fire of questions doesn't cease, giving you no way to respond. Their panic gets worse and worse as they switch between accusing you of hating them and sobbing about how sorry they are that they let it come to this, that all they ever wanted was to love you.

♡ Once again, you are surprised by your own actions as you shut them up with a kiss. Immediately, they melt into you, their hands softening on top of your bruised and cut body, the yan moaning into the kiss as they hump their hips against you. You figure there is no satisfying them, but their voice started tearing at your nerves. "I love you," the moan into the kiss. "I love you, I love you so much! You're so pretty, I love you! I'm so sorry for hurting you, but I love you! You're all mine! Mine! Forever! I'll take so good care of you! So love me too, okay?"

[writing-until-i-drop]

First Time | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader | wc: 2,226

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! Oral (fem receiving), unprotect p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk, mentions of rough oral (male receiving), lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

You picked at your nail beds, anxiously waiting for the familiar blue Bronco to pull into the parking lot. You had been on a blind date from hell, arranged by one of your well-meaning co-workers. The guy had been late, flirted with the waitress, had ordered for you, and worst of all, had gotten your name wrong twice. Well, maybe that wasn’t the worst part but after the rest of the night, it had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

You had excused yourself to the bathroom once the bill came out and called Bradley, begging him to come get you. Now, you were behind the restaurant, hoping your date didn’t come looking for you. 

“Thank God,” You sighed, rushing to the Bronco. Bradley scolded you for not waiting until he was in park but his whining stopped when you launched yourself across the bench seat at him. He gathered you in his arms without hesitation. 

“I've got you, honey,” Bradley whispered into your hair. You thought you felt him press a kiss to your temple but the feeling was so fleeting you couldn't be sure.

“I'm never going on a blind date ever again,” You whined. Bradley chuckled, rubbing your back. He hadn't been too keen on you going out with a stranger in the first place, making his displeasure known but also acknowledging that you were a grown woman who could do as you pleased. It annoyed a part of you that he didn't try harder to stop you. 

“You know I hate to see you sad, honey. What can I do to make tonight better?” Fuck me? Your first thought was not a viable response and you knew it. You and Bradley were destined to be really good friends, the type of friends others looked at and assumed there was something more. You would and had denied it in the past but secretly…secretly you were in love with your best friend. 

How could you not be? He was handsome, kind, attentive, and his mustache? You had cried the time Jake and Javy had convinced him to shave it and were inconsolable until it grew back a few months later. 

“Can we have a movie night at your place? And get pizza?” 

“Food wasn't good?” Bradley reached around you, buckling the middle seat belt over your lap. He normally insisted that you sit in the passenger seat, since it had the cross-body seat belt, going on and on about your safety.

But tonight, he didn't mention it, he also didn't mention what he was thinking when he draped his arm over your shoulders after switching into gear. Not willing to look a gifted horse in the mouth, you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“He ordered for me without even asking and it was awful, Lee.” His fingers, which had been tracing patterns on the exposed skin of your arm, froze when you used the nickname.

Normally you just called him by his first name and occasionally his callsign. The one time you had addressed him by rank and he fell down Mav’s front porch steps, which had given you enough reason to never do that again. Even if Bradley had promised that the two incidents were unrelated. 

“I'm sorry, honey.” 

“No you're not,” You rolled your eyes. “You didn't even want me to go on this date in the first place.” Bradley sighed. 

“Was I happy that you were meeting a strange man? No. But I also would never wish for you to have a bad night, so, yes, honey. I'm sorry.”

“God, I wish I could clone you,” You mumbled softly. 

“What was that, honey?” 

“Nothing.” 

When you got back to Bradley’s place the first order of business was getting out of your dress and heels. 

“I’ll order the pizza,” Bradley said, offering you a pair of sweats and one of his tee shirts.

“I thought we went over how ordering for a woman is a bad thing,” You teased and Bradley rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well unlike that douchebag, I know exactly what you like.” This time, it was impossible to miss the kiss on the temple that turned your cheeks pink. “There’s makeup remover in the bathroom.” 

“Pick a movie, I’ll be down in a minute,” You squeezed his forearm, moving past him into the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet was your brand of makeup remover and it made your stomach twist with butterflies, of course Bradley had your brand, he must have seen it when he visited your apartment. But why was it in his medicine cabinet and not stored away? It was like he was expecting you to be there, looking through his cabinets for it.

Once changed, you went downstairs. Bradley was sprawled out on his sofa, sipping on a beer, your favorite drink was waiting for you on the coffee table. You paused at the base of the stairs, taking in the sight before you. It was everything you wanted but didn’t think you could have. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, honey?” Bradley held out a hand, beckoning your forwards. You moved without thinking, letting him pull you on the couch beside him.

“Just thinking,” You answered noncommittally. Rooster chuckled, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“What are you thinking?”  Did you take a chance? Did you run this risk of ruining the relationship that meant the most to you?

“Nothing,” You muttered, moving out from his immediate grasp. Bradley didn’t let you get far though, pulling you back to his side. “Bradley.” 

“Does this have something to do with you wanting to clone me?” So he had heard that, you groaned, which was answer enough for him. “What about me isn’t enough that you want two of me?” 

“That you don’t want to sleep with me,” The answer tumbled out before you could stop it. You went to pull away again but Bradley stopped you, moving you onto his lap, reminding you just how strong he was. “Lee, I-” 

“You don’t need a clone to have that,” Bradley’s eyes were molten, staring into yours with an intensity that you had never experienced before. His grip on your hips tightened when you didn’t say anything, “I’ve been crazy about you for a long time. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

You closed the gap, pressing your lips against his in a soft kiss. Bradley didn’t waste time, kissing you back with a desperate need, one hand slipping beneath your shirt, pressing against your back gently.

You arched into him, letting him deepen the kiss. Kissing Bradley was like having a roman candle explode inside your chest. Explosions and excitement shooting through you as he buried his other hand in your hair.

You tugged at his hair, relishing the loud moan he gave. Your hips ground down, feeling exactly why they called him Rooster. Bradley pulled back, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pulling moans and whines from you.

“Still think you need a clone to get the job done?” He nipped at your pulse, “All you have to do is ask, I’ll give you anything you want.” You tugged at his shirt, Bradley chuckled. “Talk to me, honey.” 

“I want you to fuck me, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” You saw the moment when Bradley’s brain stopped working. He blinked a few times, swollen lips parting in surprise. “Then I want you to tell me how you know what makeup remover I use.”  

“Can you say that again for me, baby?” You giggled, pulling off your shirt.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, I want you to fuck me.” Bradley groaned, pulling you in for another kiss. This time it was harsh, all teeth and tongues, noses knocking against each other. He shifted you onto your back, settling between your legs. “Lee,” You moaned as he palmed your breasts roughly.

“Love it when you call me that,” Bradley pulled at your sweats and you lifted your hips to help. You giggled as they went flying across the room, “No one else calls me that.” 

“Good,” You moaned, hands threading into his hair as he kissed down your chest.

“How attached are you to your bra?” He asked, tugging at the flimsy straps.

“The bra’s expensive,” You undid the clasp yourself, tossing it towards your sweats. “Panties aren’t.” The sound of ripping fabric filled the room but your protests were non-existent as he began lavishing your breasts with attention, licking, sucking, and biting both of them until you were a squirming mess.

“You’re fucking perfect, baby,” He kissed his way down your stomach. “And all mine. All fucking mine.”

“Lee,” You cried out when he licked you without hesitation. Bradley ate your pussy like a dying man, his mustache brushing against your sensitive clit. “If you ever,” You grunted as he slid a thick finger into you. “Shave your mustache again, I’ll key your Bronco.”

Bradley’s response was to double his efforts, adding a second finger, scissoring them to open you up for him. You felt your orgasm building, the coil in your stomach tightening painfully so.

“Come for me, baby.” He sucked your clit hard, the coil snapping as the orgasm washed over you. 

“Lee,” You moaned, vision going fuzzy. Your legs tightened around his head but Bradley didn’t slow down, elongating your orgasm until another one caught you off guard. 

“All fucking mine, baby.” Bradley gave you one last lick then kissed you, giving you a taste for yourself that had you moaning into his mouth. You barely heard the loud knock at the door, Bradley grabbed a blanket and covered you. “Stay covered, I don’t share.” 

“Noted,” You sighed, exhausted from two back-to-back orgasms.

Bradley quickly paid the man and abandoned the pizza in the kitchen, he scooped you into his arms. “What are you doing?” 

“Following orders,” Bradley grunted, squeezing your ass. He kicked his bedroom door shut behind you, placing you on the bed. “You think you’re ready for me, baby?” 

“If you don’t fuck me, Lee, I’m calling Hangman.” Bradley growled, pulling off his sweats and boxers in one go. You gulped, he was huge. 

“What did I just say about sharing?” 

“You might have to remind me,” Bradley was on you in an instant, kissing you hard until you were dying for air. “Bradley,” You scratched his back.

“What don’t I do, baby?” 

“Fuck me, apparently,” He bit down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pulling a load moan from you.

“Keep it up with, baby, one of these days I’ll fuck your mouth until you pass out.” Your pussy clenched around nothing at the thought of it, “Now, who’s the only one who gets to touch you like this.” 

“You,” You pulled him in for a kiss. “Now, please, please, please, fuck me, Lee.” 

“Condom?” You shook your head,

“Clean and on birth control. You?” 

“I’m clean,” You felt him notch himself at your entrance. “Ready?” You shifted your hips upwards, urging him to hurry up. “Words, baby.”

“‘Ready.” He pushed forward, his thick cock stretching you out until you were gasping and whining his name with every inch he gave you.

“Halfway there, baby.” Halfway? You groaned, digging your fingers into the sheets.

“Fuck, Lee, you’re huge,” Bradley chuckled, distracting you from the pain by playing with your nipples. He stilled when he bottomed out, giving you time to adjust. You felt so full of him and of pleasure, you knew it would only get better once he started to move.

“How do you want this to go, honey? You’re in control here,” You settled your hands on his broad shoulders, squeezing his strong muscles.

“Ruin me, Lee. We can do it slow and sweet after dinner,” He gave you a peck on the lips.

“Whatever you want.” He pulled back then snapped his hips forward, hitting a spot that had you crying out. He pace was relentless and exactly what you wanted, Bradley fucked you into the bed like a man possessed. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Squeezing my cock like a good girl,” You squeezed around him. “You like that, huh? You like being my good girl? Words, baby.”

“Yes, shit,” You scratched your nails down his back. “I’m your good girl, just don’t stop.” 

“Give me one more, baby,” His calloused fingers set a quick pace, rubbing your abused clit until you were screaming. “That’s it, come for me.” Your third orgasm hit you harder than the two before it, incoherent babbles spilling from your lips. “Think you can give me another?”

“No, no, no,” You whined but when he pulled his hand back you forced it back down. Bradley chuckled, happily working you up again.

“We’re going to have to work on your communication skills, baby,” You kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip. Bradley’s thrusts became erratic, he was close. “Come on my cock while I fill you up, baby.” That was all it took, you came and Bradley followed right behind you, spilling inside of you. 

“I think,” You panted as Bradley all but collapsed on top of you, “I think you broke me.” He chuckled, kissing your face all over as he shifted off of you, pulling you both onto your sides.

“How does a bath sound?” 

“Pizza first.” His stomach rumbled in agreement,

“Whatever you want, baby.”

a/n: this fic got away with me, it was supposed to stop when the pizza got there

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Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @shanimallina87

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] corsica continues to inspire, even when away from the heat of the sun. part of the hot monaco nights series.

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), a lil hint of plot, use of explicit language, unprotected sex (plan appropriately, folks), p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), google-translated french (i cannot and will not be stopped), em dashes strike back, once again time is a social construct

a/n: more horny fuckers in corsica (crowd cheers)! longest one yet!! struggled getting this written but ultimately happy with how it turned out, so hopefully y'all are, too. my biggest thanks as always to @lecrep @leclerc-hs @multiseb21 for their support & encouragement 🤍 enjoy, bbys! xx

As always, this was Charles's fault.

Well, kinda.

Okay, not at all, but, like, that’s beside the point.

What the point actually was that this was your favorite way to have him.

His hands gripped tightly into the plush of your hips, thumbs guiding the way your pelvis lazily drew patterns.  His cock was hard and hot and buried deep inside you, and the Monégasque was fighting all of his instincts not to roll the two of you over so he could find a way to sate the burning heat in his own core.

“Chérie,” he whined, hazel eyes still heavy-lidded as he’d only awoken a short while before.  Other parts of him had been awake for much longer, though, given the way he’d been grinding his cock against your ass before you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Relax, baby,” you chided with a heavy sigh, one hand on his toned chest while the other toyed with your pearl.  “You’re on holiday—enjoy it.  We don’t have anywhere to be.”

“But this is torture, mon cœur,” the man groaned, hands trying to urge you faster.  Still, you resisted and shot him a devilish look.

“This,” you rolled your hips tightly and flexed your walls around his throbbing member, “is nothing.  I can make it torture if you’d prefer that, though, hm?”

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose, a groan stifled in his throat.  His hands traced over the tanned expanse of your thighs before trailing to the small of your back under the faded oversized shirt of his you’d donned after he’d fucked you within an inch of your life the night before.

“At least let me kiss you, hm? Donne-moi quelque chose, s'il te plaît,” Charles nearly begged, the French tumbling from his lips as you ground yourself in slow, lazy circles.  He needed more—more friction, more skin, more touch, anything.  He wasn’t one to beg, usually, but he was more than willing in this instance.

“So needy,” you teased, but the way his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue slid against your own had your hips bucking in such a way that gave away your hand; you had a straight flush but his was royal.  A choked sound left the back of your throat as you moved your hips quicker, one of the hands in your hair moving to grab the flesh of your ass to urge you on.

As you pulled away for a moment, Charles didn’t waste his chance and used his other hand to pull back the hem of the t-shirt you wore and latch his plump lips to one of your pert nipples in a way that made your toes curl and your eyes close tight as stars sparked.

“Fuck,” you swore, “I–”

“So needy,” he teased like an absolute little shit before you swatted at his head and he took his golden opportunity.

Banding an arm around your back, the driver pulled you tight to his chest and planted his feet into the bed before driving his hips up into your own in a way that made your insides feel like molten lava. With a filthy cry, you grabbed tight to the sheets on either side of your boyfriend as he set the new pace.

“Je pensais que je te l'avais enlevé hier soir,” he grunted in your ear as he speared against something blindingly delicious within you, and his hand palmed at your ass with your tits pressed tight against his chest.  You knew it was good for him, too, when he started slipping into Italian, blurring the lines between the languages he knew so well until they were practically an unintelligible mess.

“Charles–I’m gonna—ah!,” you started to warn as the edges of your vision blurred and the heat in the pit of your core started seeping through the cracks in your bones.

“Je sais, minette,” he grit as he felt your cunt spasm tightly around him, his own orgasm careening towards him at a blinding speed like an avalanche in the Dolomites.  “Putain–,” he swore as his hips bucked spasmodically into you, pressing into the wet velvet heat as far as your core would allow as every part of him chased whatever would bring him closer to his completion.

You felt him shudder beneath you as his hands held you tight against him; he wanted to feel all of you, and you certainly were in no place to complain as your own orgasm started to recede.  You basked in the warmth of one another, the way your hips slotted so perfectly against his, how your hearts pounded against each other’s chests.

Part of you didn’t want to break the blissful quiet of the post-orgasm glow, but your pride had other qualms.  “You’re a sore loser, you know that?,” you teased as you rolled partway off your partner, hissing as you lost the comfortable stretch of his cock inside of you.

Chuckling softly, he shrugged as he turned his head to the side to see your heavy eyes.  “I have no idea what you are talking about—I was simply exercising a-a new strategy!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.  “You are unbelievable, Leclerc.”

“Unbelieve...ably good?,” he asked with a stupid grin that made you roll your eyes once more before you leaned in to kiss him once again.

“Unfortunately yes–”

“Say no more!,” he beamed before shooting out of bed, reinvigorated.  He disappeared for a few moments, your eyes closing as sleep tempted you once more.

You heard him pad back in and around to the side of the bed you’d rolled to, something warm and wet touching the inside of your thigh.  Gently, he cleaned you with a warm washcloth before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sleepyhead,” he teased gently as you popped your eyes open for just a moment to peek at him as he went about the room, tidying up from the night before.  You two had gotten a bit…wild, to put it mildly.

“I resemble that remark,” you quipped, eyes closed once more as you raised a finger in the air.  Soon enough, though, you were drifting back off to sleep, only to wake several hours later in the late afternoon.

There was a note on top of your phone on the bedside table, scribbled in his surprisingly neat half-print, half-cursive handwriting.  “Out for a run,” it read, a little heart and smiley face with its tongue sticking out accompanying it.  Unsure when he’d be back, you finally convinced yourself to slip out of bed and into a much-needed shower.  You smelled like a mix of salt and chlorine and citrus—heaven, to Charles, but the grit of it was a bit much to take.  Besides, you needed to wash your hair as the two of you had plans for the evening, and your hair had become a mess over the past few days.

Stripping out of the shirt you’d haphazardly thrown on the night before, you ducked under the warm spray of the shower once you’d managed to settle on a half-decent playlist.  Humming to yourself, you didn’t hear Charles come back as you neared the end of your shower.

Sitting on the bench at the end of the unmade bed, he watched you through the half-fogged glass of the shower as the scent of your soap drifted through the air and the warmth of the steam lingered at the threshold between the two rooms.  He shouldn’t want you as badly as he does, but there’s something about your connection that was more intoxicating than any alcohol or drug could ever try to rival.  Everything about you drew him in, pulled him closer and closer like he was caught in a whirlpool; you’d bewitched him—mind, body, and soul—and under no circumstance did he want the spell to be broken.

You caught sight of him as you stepped out and began toweling off, asking, “Good run?”

He nodded as he stood, finally kicking off his shoes and shucking himself out of his shorts and briefs.  “Not as good as this morning,” he wrinkled his nose at the qualifier, pecking your lips before restarting the shower so he, too, could join you in your newfound cleanliness.  “Good shower?”

“Not as good as this morning,” you conceded in teasing as you watched him slip under the water with a laugh.

As he showered, you went to work at the vanity, going through your neglected skincare routine and brushing the tangles from your freshly washed hair.  By the time it was wrapped in a towel and on its way to drying, Charles had finished his own shower and was drying off with the lone clean towel you’d left him (you desperately needed to do some laundry tomorrow).

Towel wrapped around his waist, he took up his seat on the bench once more, scrolling aimlessly on his phone to distract himself from how you leaned over the vanity as you carefully applied your makeup.  You’d abandoned the towel that had been around your body, tired of having to fight the damn thing to stay secured every two minutes.  Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before.

Charles, of course, did not mind this, but it certainly made it difficult to keep his focus on anywhere except the peek of your slit between your thighs and the curve of your tits every time you lent closer to the mirror in inspection.  It was dizzying, the way the blood rushed from his head to his…other head just at the mere sight of you.

Twitter half-held his attention for another five minutes, but that was all he could muster before he was stalking back to you and on his knees no less.  With a start and a gasp, you felt the heat of his tongue where you loved it most, eyes rolling back before you could catch yourself.  He hummed in response to the pitiful keening that left your lips.

“You are—fuck,” you started, caught off guard by the earnest press of Charles's thumb against your clit, “insatiable.  How do…how?” You had no idea where he pulled the stamina from, but you certainly weren’t complaining nor upset.

Stubbled open-mouth kisses pressed their way up your spine until he was standing behind you, caging you in with a hand on the vanity counter on either side of your hips.  “Quelque chose sur vous,” he breathed into the nape of your neck before planting a searing kiss there.  “I don’t know,” he shrugged with a groan as he rested his brow against your shoulder.

“Like I said earlier,” you teased softly as you turned in his arms, in the small cage he made with his arms against the countertop, “so needy.” The smell of his soap was still strong, but there was also something uniquely Charles, something you yourself could never get enough of.

He laughed at that, and you could feel the rumble of it where your abdomens met.  “Maybe,” he relented with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “but something tells me you are just as–”

You tutted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare finish that thought. At this rate we’ll never make it out tonight if you keep trying to fuck me,” you warned with a tilt of your head.

“But–”

“No buts.”

“Not even this one?,” he smirked, thinking himself something of a genius as the little shit fully palmed each cheek and pulled you in closer to press tightly against his toned body.

“Especially not that one!,” you swatted at his hands before he started running away from you and your faux-outrage, leaving you alone in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

An hour later he peeked his head in once more, dressed in a linen outfit perfect for a hot, humid, night on the Mediterranean. (Of course, this was something you’d helped him pick because Lord knows this man couldn’t be left to his own devices when it came to style; he had the style sense of a 14-year-old boy, and yet you loved him despite it—you were truly a saint.)  “Almost ready?,” he asked, eyes raking over the mid-length sleeveless silk dress you’d chosen, hair pulled into a messy French twist with simple gold accessories.  It wasn’t until he saw the slit clear up the middle of your thigh that he let out an exasperated sigh.  He was in for a long night.

Turns out, it wasn’t the worst thing ever.  Because by the time you’d made it back to the villa, you were both half-drunk on sangria and unable to keep your hands off one another…or, at least, more so than usual.

You’d gone to dinner and afterward, a small club where, in the darkened corner away from the flash of colored lights and drunken laughter of other revelers, you two made out like you were teenagers again.  He whispered naughty things in your ear, hot insistent hands slipping under your dress to grasp at the skin he so badly wanted to be pressed against—especially with how you’d toyed with him all night.  If you thought you were going to get away with grinding your ass against him, trailing the toe of your sandal up his legs during dinner, and whining in his ear with no shame…you had another thing coming.

With you bent over the back of the sofa, Charles shoved your dress over your hips where he chuckled in disbelief.  You smiled a Cheshire grin, knowing what he’d finally discovered for himself: you weren’t wearing any panties.

“You dirty girl,” he tsked in your ear as he pulled your back flush with his front, a strong arm around your middle in a way that was reminiscent of your midday fuck.  His hand smoothed over the plane of your belly and dipped into the sacred heat of your cunt to draw a whimper from your lips that he’d been desperate to hear all evening.  “So needy,” he teased as he ground his hard length against the curve of your ass and into the small of your back.

“Please–,” you pleaded with him, your sangria-addled mind having one desire and one desire, alone.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, chérie,” he hushed you as you bent back over and started arching your back for him: you were going to make this an offer he couldn’t refuse.  Groaning at the sight, he pressed the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance before slotting his pelvis against your own in one fell press of his hips.

He cursed, dropping his head down to rest against the space between your shoulder blades.  You wiggled your hips in desperation, needing friction—needing anything—to ease the ache between your legs. Hissing at the sensation, Charles nipped at the skin over your spine before soothing it with his tongue.  “Je sais, minette,” he groaned before starting a truly punishing rhythm with each stroke.  His hands gripped tight at your hips, only stopping for a moment to help you hitch one of your legs onto the back of the couch you were bent over which allowed his cock to grind against something deep within you.

You were hurtling fast and hard to your climax, and you could tell your partner wasn’t far behind with how his praises and curses tumbled from his lips in equal measure. The Monégasque was a talker in bed, you’d come to learn, but even more so now that his mind’s filter had been soaked in shitty sangria.

“So close–Charles, pl-please,” you whined pitifully before a hand entwined in your now-ruined bun and tugged, wrenching a choked gasp from your throat. You babbled half-incoherently as he held you against him once more and his other hand snaked around the front of your hip to rub tight circles over your pearl with that perfect rasp of much-needed friction.

“Jouis pour moi, chérie,” he gritted in your ear, and you didn’t need to be told twice as waves of pleasure crashed over your body.  Warmth spread from your core to the tips of your toes, breath caught in your throat as you rode the earliest waves.  Your hips bucked insistently against him, his own losing their rhythm at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him and pulling him headfirst into a blinding high of his own.

With a choked gasp and your name on his lips, you felt as he came inside you just moments after your own orgasm. Panting and positively fucked out, you dropped down over the couch once more, slowly but surely floating back down into your body. Charles draped over you in exhaustion, catching his own breath as one of his hands found yours and traced over it mindlessly with gentle fingers.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to figure out I wasn’t wearing any underwear,” you pondered aloud like the thought of your bare cunt under that dress hadn’t just resulted in the fuck of your life.  You were a tease—and an unabashed one, at that.

“Mon Dieu, chérie.”

final note: one more part for our stay in corsica before we depart the island! hoping you guys will enjoy it! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!

[dolcezzatoru]

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 - 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: running through the nsfw alphabet hc with my favorite boy ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: minors begone ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: this is part of an ask i received on my sfw account, please enjoy♡

𝐚 = 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱)

i think he'd be very affectionate and rewarding with his aftercare. since you're putting up with him, the least he could do is treat you like royalty. it's for him too, though, so expect to do things together. baths, cuddling, massages...he's putting you first but definitely looking out for himself as well.

𝐛 = 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬)

this man knows he's fine. while his eyes are are obviously a big feature of himself he loves, he'd be big on his chest and abs, especially how he's looked recently (beefy satoru, just one chance, please,,,). as for his partner, i'll skip the cheap answer of 'your personality,' even if it is true, but i'll settle for saying he's a fan of your back/shoulders. satoru's always got a hand around your waist or the small of your back, drawing patterns and shapes on it when he's bored. especially loves backshots to see it arch. definitely pushes down on it to help you go lower.

𝐜 = 𝐜𝐮𝐦 (𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐦)

if he isn't making out with you when he cums, he will pass away!!! just needs to be closer to you in any way possible (he is inside of you)

𝐝 = 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬)

would sneak away during missions, during periods of boredom, and jack off to a photo of you or a snippet of your voice he saved. can you blame him? he just misses you so much when he's away ˙◠˙

𝐞 = 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

i think he's played around a bit, but is definitely all bark with no bite. but he's canonically good at everything he does and tries, so... take that as you will, hehe~

𝐟 = 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

because of his fascination with your back, def would say backshots/doggy is his favorite. loves to watch you arch your back to take him deeper. just seeing your ass slap against his hips is enough to drive him wild.

𝐠 = 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜)

has his moments of goofiness. starting off, he might be a little unserious, but at some point he locks in. known to snap out of it in the moment and be silly if it calls for it!

𝐡 = 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

this man obviously looks after himself and his appearance, so he keeps it trimmed up v nice with a little white happy trail to match

𝐢 = 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭.)

pushing my 'gojo plays around until he's locked in for life' agenda yet again....but if you guys are fucking he's saying "i love you" unapologetically like it's a prayer. he wants eye contact, missionary, the whole nine yards to feel close to you in any way. if you've gotten far enough to fuck, he's putting it all out there.

𝐣 = 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 (𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧)

can only masturbate to you after you become official together. practically begs you to facetime him while he's away so you two can jack off together.

𝐤 = 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬)

praise/teasing/degrading are the main ones. he loves to tease/degrade, but gives in and praises just as much. he loves to be praised in return, along with a little bit of teasing. just to keep up with him and keep him on his toes, that's a turn on in and of itself.

𝐥 = 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬)

nothing beats the comfort of being home and being as loud as possible but satoru is a mischievous little man...he'd really enjoy the thrill of being on the edge of getting caught ♡ and if you are, what does he care? maybe you're due for a quickie in a public bathroom, or being bent over his desk before class. oh, oops! you'll have to be quiet though ᵕ̈

𝐦 = 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠)

satisfying his partner. he needs to be the best at everything, including making you cum ♡ a little paradoxical though. he puts his partners needs above his own (selfless) but to stroke his own ego (selfish)

𝐧 = 𝐧𝐨 (𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨)

sharing. he's a little possessive and protective of you and quite monogamous (when he's in an official relationship) so i think orgies/threesomes/open relationships would make him feel weird and sad. he'd get all pouty, y'know?

𝐨 = 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐞𝐭𝐜)

this man is a munch, i'm sorry. seeing you from that angle, making you feel that good just from his mouth? unreal. that's enough to get him off alone. he loves receiving, but he'd beg you just to let him give you head.

𝐩 = 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥?)

he fluctuates! he loves being a big softie and be slow and sensual, but sometimes he gets a little too greedy. he just can't help himself when it comes to you.

𝐪 = 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

satoru loves a good quickie. he'd try and make time for a quickie anytime he can. if you're looking too good out to eat, if he thinks of you a little bit too much during the day...i think the only way to solve it is for him to be inside you as quick as possible. but he knows you're busy, so he asks and asks and begs until you give in just so he can be in n out before you can even really process it.

𝐫 = 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

he's game if you are! he likes to take risks when it comes to possibly getting caught, trying new positions, new toys, new kinks...he's down for it all if it'll make you feel good! what makes you feel good makes him feel good. and how could he say no to you?

𝐬 = 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭)

he can go all night if you'd let him ⋆˙⟡♡ but he is very respectful of your limits, and takes it at your pace. he likes to play around with how long he lasts. if you're begging him to cum in you, well, he might last for a little bit longer than usual just to make you beg a little more.

𝐭 = 𝐭𝐨𝐲 (𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬? 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦? 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬?)

he's stubborn enough to believe that you guys don't need toys because whyyy would you need anything more when he can make you feel good on his own? but he can be persuaded if you want to use them

𝐮 = 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞)

prepare to get teased ! he'll mock the way you moan, the way you beg, even the faces you make. he just thinks you're so cute, you know? he can't help but to laugh at how you just fall apart when he's railing you. he'd deny you a kiss, the right to cum, pretty much anything just to get a rise out of you.

𝐯 = 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞)

oh, he's just got the prettiest moans around. he's very vocal during sex, showering you with praise and feedback. telling you you're beautiful, how good you feel, etc. ! when he's particularly needy he just blabbers on and on with his sweet little moans and whimpers in between. he cannot shut up if he tries.

𝐰 = 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝

he can't wear the blindfold during sex. he has to have his eyes all over you in every way possible. he'd shoulder the headache if he got to see the way your face looked in the afterglow. but he's not opposed to having you try it on ♡

𝐱 = 𝐱-𝐫𝐚𝐲 (𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬)

he's well endowed. let's be honest. maybe not on the girthy side, but he definitely makes up for it in length. almost angering how pretty it is (can he have one achilles heel?)

𝐲 = 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞?)

satoru has a high sex drive (hence all the quickies) but he understands that both of you live your own lives with your own time constraints. he'd love to fuck like rabbits if life allowed it, though

𝐳 = 𝐳𝐳𝐳 (𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬)

all those rounds takes a lot out of someone, poor thing☹ once he goes through your aftercare routine together, he's out. but he'd never leave you high and dry. satoru would make sure all your needs are met before you two could sleep together.

thank you for reading !! rbs are always appreciated ♡ do not copy, repost, or steal my work.

[konigbabe]

heavenly sin

Pairing: RE4!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Tags/warnings: smut (pure unfiltered filth, no plot); voice kink; p-in-v sex; unprotected sex; female gendered anatomy; female masturbation; fingering; cunnilingus; established relationship; no y/n; references to Christianity and ferocity; extensive wordplay

Summary: It's been known that Leon is one kinky bastard.

A/N: Written as part of my A to Z kinks game. N is for narratophilia aka being aroused by sexual storytelling.

Tried something a little bit different to explore my knowledge of English. A wordplay of sorts (I basically threw random words together in hopes that it'd make some sense). Bon Appetit.

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

“You enjoying yourself?” As Leon discards his gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity. “If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

It started as a joke, a fleeting spark in the sea of banter. Leon’s flirtatious nature entwined in perfect harmony with his tender heart.

Fresh out of the shower, your heart longed for the man whose sudden departures have become routine. A standard in your life.

The sun made its final descent below the horizon, the sky painted in shades of amber and gold – the bedroom awash in a warm and inviting glow, as if every object was kissed by the sun's final rays. The light filtered through the sheer curtains, creating patterns on the floor that danced like flickering flames.

And in the midst of it all, Leon's call came through, cutting through the stillness.

The conversation began innocently. Calling to let you know he’ll be home soon. It was as though his tenderness was butterfly's wings, fluttering in your chest and making your heart skip a beat.

His sincere words slowly spilt over into something else. Something more. Something promising.

It’s now that the phone lies next to your ear, and Leon's voice, like a silk ribbon, unwinds into your consciousness, stirring a deep and primal desire within you. Building the anticipation need inside you.

“After that, I’d bent you over the table. You’d already be naked and dripping,” Leon’s voice a song of Solomon, “but I’d be far from done with you.”

A gasp, soft and quiet, escapes your parted lips. Every fibre of your body, every cell is set on fire. The setting sun casting flames over your naked skin of yours. Flesh burning. Body wrapped in a cocoon of passionate flames – your palm pressing against the sensitive nub, the pressure light as a feather. Slow, languid strokes of your fingers follow Leon’s words.

Muscles tightening as the pressure keeps adding with each sentence. Slow and steady. With a pace of a gentle stream. Dipping one finger deep inside your slick walls, only to stop when you reach fully inside.

A stream of docile moans flows from your throat.

“Just to feel you take my cock. Hear those gorgeous gasps as you beg me to give it to you,” hand gripping the messed-up sheets underneath you, squeezing tight as you add another finger, curling them upwards.

“Rough, just how you like it. Pretty sure we’d break the table,” Leon’s words are accompanied by a light chuckle, hiding much more sinister and vivid ideas inside his head.

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him cuss. Your voice carries the weight of longing, desire, and devotion. Making Leon wish to finally be home.

“Fuck. Could spend all day between those lovely legs of yours.” Leon’s voice descends to a low murmur, tinged with raw, feral hunger.

With a touch as tender as a butterfly’s wing, thumb circling the aching nub of nerves; it ignites a wildfire of ecstasy within your body. As you lightly graze your opening, feeling the softness of your slick walls, a delicate gasp escapes your mouth, akin to a prayer of submission to this moment of pure passion and pleasure.

“Just to taste that pretty pussy of yours on my tongue.”

Leon's voice pours into the phone, rich and sinful. You hear the front door open with a soft creak, the sound echoing through your body. He's finally home, his presence filling your senses with a heady aroma of musk and lust, a tantalizing potion that you can't resist.

He gazes at you with eyes like storm clouds brewing with desire. The air is thick with the scent of sex and your yearning, hanging in the dimly lit bedroom, resembling a heavy fog. You keep your gaze locked with his, transfixed as Leon strides in, his figure outlined by the glow of light seeping in from the hallway.

You don’t stop–

–instead, your fingers delve deeper. Nails grazing the tender walls, the slight discomfort only adding to the pleasure. Like a deer caught in headlines, your eyes stay on his.

The sound of your slickness echoes in the room as you thrust in and out, unconsciously matching the rhythm of Leon's steps – left in, right out, left in, right out – a dance of carnal desire.

And just like that, he stands on the side of the bed.

Leon’s eyes gleam with a fierce intensity. A perfect blend of predatory sensuality and effortless ease. With the grace of a pather; clad in a black henley shirt, the first two buttons undone, exposing the slight curve of his clavicles. It molds to his chiseled form as though it was a second skin, making Leon exude a primal magnetism that draws you closer to your high.

Spellbound by the scene in front of him – by you; fingers deep inside, eyes glazed over with orgasmic ecstasy as your work yourself to your high.

The air is thick with the sweet scent of your desire, a heady aroma that fills his senses with an overwhelming urge to indulge in your rapture.

He steps closer, placing one knee on the bed. The mattress creaks under his weight, but his gaze never leaves yours. It's as if you're the only person in the world that matters to him right now. The heat emanating from his body is palpable, and you feel your heart race as his presence commands the room.

“You enjoying yourself?”

His tone is low. A seductive purr sends a wave of electricity through your veins. Hot like molten lava. Dripping like honey, sweet and luscious. They linger in the air, coating everything around you with a sticky warmth.

His name leaves your lips in a deep sigh. Soft walls squeeze your fingers.

As he discards his fingerless gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity.

Leon’s arm flexes, the sinewy muscles bulging when put to work. Your eyes lock onto his, drinking in the raw masculinity and primal allure of his being. A contented moan escapes your lips, an instinctive reaction to the overwhelming sensuality of the moment.

“If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

His towering form casts a shadow over you as he leans closer. Lips so close you can almost taste the desire that emanated from him. The heat of his breath dances across your skin, making your senses swirl in a dizzying haze of lust; igniting a fire that burns with the intensity of Samson's strength.

“Wanna gimme a kiss?” he whispers, his lips almost brushing against yours. You’re still able to feel the soft graze of the plump skin atop of yours, sending a fluttering sensation to your heart.

You can't help but feel intoxicated by his voice, each word rolling off his tongue with a silky smoothness that sends shivers down your spine. It's almost like he's casting a spell, using his voice as a weapon to ensnare you in his grasp. And you willingly surrender, caught in the web of his honeyed words; like Delilah, powerless to his will, swept away by the power of his seduction.

Lips grazing his, you push your face upwards to be closer. The kiss is both gentle and fierce; a tantalizing dance of lips and tongues that leaves you breathless and wanting more. The taste of him a mix of mint and spice. You stop the movement of your wrist between your legs. Stilling, feeling the wet squeeze around your fingers, your mind becomes a blank canvas, a vast expanse of nothingness.

The taste of him lingers on your tongue as he pulls away. Thick fingers wrapping around your wrist, he nudges your fingers out of you. A displeased grunt leaves your lips at the sudden emptiness. Only to have your breath stop; watching as Leon brings your hand, fingers visibly sticky with your juices, tongue swirling around the tip of your index finger before taking two of the fingers in his mouth. It’s as if he’s tasting the forbidden fruit, savoring the flavor of your arousal like the sweetest nectar.

Feeling the wet tip of his tongue swirl around your fingers, you can’t help but let out a soft moan. The rough texture brushes over the pads of your fingers. Licking every drop of you off of your fingers, leaving them clean before he licks his own lips.

“Missed that taste.”

His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense with desire as he slowly releases your hand.

“Missed you almost that much too.”

His words wash over you like a warm embrace, seeping into your pores and settling deep within your bones. As his body moves over yours, his hands glide across the burning expanse of your skin, tracing patterns of passion that leave you breathless in anticipation. The soft touch of his lips on your navel sends ripples of pleasure through your body, each sensation building on the last until you're gasping for air.

Leon sinks to his knees at the end of the bed; his movements smooth and graceful. Years of never-ending training left him in full control of every muscle. Arms sliding underneath your knees, he holds you firmly as he grips your hips with unyielding strength.

A single tug. Confident in its prosecution. He brings you to the edge of the bed, your glistening cunt hovering in front of his face. The sight of him there, between your legs, both captivating and overwhelming.

The wet tip of his tongue peaks from within his kiss-bruised lips.

Before you know it, you’re completely undone. A mess. Leon's tongue turns your body into a temple of pleasure; his movements sinuous and calculated. With each flick and swirl of his tongue, he's coaxing you to heights of ecstasy.

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing cunt, flicking and teasing your clit as you squirm beneath him, one hand grasping his soft hair while the other squeezes your breast. His fingers, thick and rough, plunge deep inside of you, finding all the right spots to drive you wild. Each thrust of his hand sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you moan and writhe with need.

"Such a fucking filthy little thing," he growls against your skin, the heat of his breath making you shiver. He devours you with his mouth and hands, taking you to the brink of ecstasy and back again; fingers scissoring and pumping, working you over until you're a quivering mess of desire.

The blunt pressure of the tips of his fingers pressing mildly against your inner walls sending pinnacles of bliss across your body until you’re mewling at the sharp pleasure that ripples down your spine.

You claw at the sheets, unable to control the waves of sensation that crash over you.

And then, with a final, shuddering gasp, you let yourself go, your body convulsing in waves of pure pleasure. Ecstasy; Leon’s name a sweetened melody on the tip of your tongue.

He stands up afterwards, a towering figure before your eyes. Your aching legs fall from his shoulders onto the bed. Leon looms over you, appearing almost god-like, a divine being sent to ravage you with its passion.

Disposing of his shirt, you lay on the bed motionless, senses on high and in anticipation as you watch the man strip. With every article of clothing that comes off, Leon’s body reveals itself in all its glory. Shoulders and chest sculptured, shaped by years of intense training. Someone who’s worked hard to achieve such a physique. Rippling muscles that flex with every movement he makes. His arms thick with veins and biceps that bulge with raw strength, capable of holding you up effortlessly. You can see every ridge of his abs, each one chiseled to perfection.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he rasps after ridding himself of the last article while you shamelessly stare at Leon’s sheer size and the strength of him.

“Very much,” you breathe out when he crawls on top of you.

His cock rests atop your stomach, heavy and pulsing with need; leaking as he marks you in his precum. Yet, neither of you moves. Unbothered, you remain locked in his gaze before his lips capture yours in a short passionate kiss. Drawn together by the irresistible pull of gravity, your lips meet in a collision of desire and longing.

Legs wrapping high around his waist, his hand leaves the side of your neck and travels the side of your body, igniting a trail of heat as it goes. Leon strokes the length of your thigh, only stopping when his fingers rest under your knee momentarily. Then you feel the blunt tip press against your aching cunt. The anticipation inside you unravels like a tightly wound spool, releasing a flood of sensations that spreads throughout your body.

“Ready?” he breathes out; his warm breath tickles your skin as his lips brush against yours once again.

The silky texture of his hair brush against your fingertips. Legs tightening around his upper body, you pull him closer to you. “Yeah.”

The pressure against your throbbing cunt intensifies as Leon presses forward. The crown of his cock splits you open with ease, enveloping him. Welcoming him eagerly in your wet heat. As if he belongs there.

Leon’s touch’s electric, sending shivers down your spine as he claims you with each bite and kiss. His teeth graze your chin, softly nibbling at the skin as he lets out a guttural grunt. Keeping one hand on the side of your neck, possessive and tender, surely to feel the rapid pulse of your jugular vein, he hooks his thumb underneath your jaw and pushes upwards.

When your head is tilted upwards enough to his satisfaction, his lips latch on the front of your neck. Small, quick bites decorate the stretched skin. Followed by a wet kiss, he sucks on the skin. Vulnerable and exposed.

Moans cascade from your lips, an ode to his cock splitting you apart slowly. A divine intrusion into your depths, filling you.

He stills when he’s buried balls deep inside of you; bottoms out in your quivering walls, slick with post-orgasmic arousal.

The feeling of fullness, of being completely filled, is almost too much to bear. Your breath hitches in your throat, body trembling with pleasure as it strains to accommodate him; to make enough space to take him in.

Your eyes flatter shut as he waits, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck while his hand cups the underside of your breast with his thumb teasing your nipple in a leisurely manner.

A moment of content falls between you. Bodies molded together; two halves of a whole.

After a few seconds, you press the sole of your feet into his skin, feeling the taunt muscle contract underneath you.

A subtle but unmistakable gesture. A wordless plea for more.

A fuck me of sorts.

Your body speaks volumes, a language he's learned to decipher. And with a low growl, he responds to your invitation. A low roll of his hips. A test of your readiness. It becomes a measured beat that tests your strength, the pressure of his cock firmly pressed against the walls of your cervix.

It has you sent into a harmonious frenzy.

Leon continues with the rhythm. Relishing in the tight squeeze of your cunt, in the way you sing for him, his name a sacred hymn on your lips. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure courses through you.

His hands sear a blazing trail on your burning flesh. Every touch feels as if he’s branding you, etching himself onto your skin.

The wetness of his lips causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. Moving like a reverent prayer. Worship of your body as his tongue swipes over your sensitive nipples.

Your name escapes his lips and is met with a low moan.

Tantalizing and peaceful.

Leon’s unhurried movements slowly transform into something more. Rough and hasty. Teeth nibbling at your jawline, feeling the bone underneath the skin, your nails bite into the tight muscle of his shoulder blades. Surely to leave indents that will bloom into bruises and marks. Your back arch, offering yourself up to him as you focus on meeting his thrusts.

As his hand wanders down the length of your body, his fingers dance along the curves of your waist and hips before grazing the globes of your ass; giving it a rough squeeze before wrapping his fingers under your knee and pulling away from your neck.

Meanwhile, his other hand braces his body weight by your face. Leon’s fingers entwine around your ankle. Pushing your leg up and over his shoulder, you moan over the painful stretch of your hamstring as he gazes at you.

He moves with a frenzied urgency. Lowering himself to rest on his elbows, his fingers find their way to your clit.

The way he flicks over the sensitive nub elicits a series of moans and cries from you only to be silenced by his lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss is wet and messy. Hungry. Both of you eager to take and dominate, his tongue dancing with yours in a frenzied manner.

It's like he's a man possessed, lost in the rhythm of his movements and the feel of your body beneath him. You writhe and moan, lost in a haze of sensation and desire as he takes you higher towards that ultimate release. That sweet orgasm. Every motion is a symphony, a perfect blend of power and finesse, as he explores the contours of your body with a deep hunger.

Mind becoming blurry, your senses are consumed by the raw, primal desire Leon elicits with his thrusts. Moving to brace himself better, it feels impossible when you feel the blunt pressure hit even deeper than before. Gasping, you move your hips, trying to take him as deep as possible.

The smell of sweat and sex fills the air, and you can hear the sound of skin slapping against the skin as Leon moves with increasing speed and intensity. His determination to tear you apart only grows each time your hips meet, sending bolts of electricity throughout your every cell. His thumb flicks over your clit, applying pressure and circling the aching bud until you’re quivering underneath the mass of a man above you. Inside you.

The sound of his grunts and moans blends into a symphony of pleasure, each note building up the tension within you. You feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption, bubbling with molten passion until it finally snaps. Erupts.

A tidal wave of pleasure washes over you. Sweeping you in a vortex of delight. A thousand stars explode in your mind, each one brighter than the last, painting your vision with vibrant colors. Your body convulses, spasming in rhythm with the waves of pleasure that ripple through you.

Gasps leave your lips. Desperate for air, you cling to Leon, whose thrusts never wavered. Whose fingers continue to tease your clit, now throbbing and exploding with sensitivity. His eyes lock on yours, lips parted with low moans escaping from between before you bring his face down to you, swallowing each cry of pleasure but eventually, he pulls away.

You watch as Leon’s eyes snap shut, brows furrowing in pleasure as he stills. His full length buried inside of your spasming cunt, filling you up with his cum.

Your body’s spent. Yet your mind’s still reeling from the sheer intensity as Leon remains buried inside; his breath ragged and uneven before he pulls out with measured slowness, teasing your oversensitive clit with a gentle tap. You shudder at the sensation of him trickling out of you.

“Hi.”

The simple word leaves your mouth in a breathless whisper. A mere welcome that was meant to be addressed when he first entered your home instead of now. A warmth spreads through your body, settling low in your belly as you take in the sight of him; the way his blond hair falls across his forehead, resembling a halo of an angel. Cheeks tinted in light pink and lips curved into a small smile as he looks at you.

“Hi.”

[gallaghersgal]

DAY THREE → somnophilia, kerry von erich

TAGS & WARNINGS → NSFW 18+ somno, dom/sub, daddy kink, fingering, p in v, oral (f!rec), fem reader, fem pet names like darlin'/mama, spitting, cumplay. and aftercare!

WC → 1.4k um.

kerry is a gentleman. always has been, always will be. it’s a trait that endears him to you. but the warmth of you on windswept, lonely autumn nights is too much for him to resist.

a soft, happy groan leaves him as he slips out of bright red shorts and underwear all in one go. he’s already half hard and when he sees you’re bare underneath a soft tee his dick throbs under his own palm.

honestly, the mere fact you’d let him have you like this got kerry rock solid.

“‘ey darlin’,” he mumbles, one strong hand lifting the hem of your tee. he parts your thighs with a gentle touch, spreading you open before spitting on his palm. kerry guides himself inside your warmth, his knees buckling at the feeling. “good girl, lettin’ daddy take’ya like this.”

he shudders with every thrust, hips pistoning into you with as much care as he can muster. selfishly, he wants you to stay asleep. so you can stay like this for him, alseep and sated, letting him keep his softening length snug inside you as he slept on your chest.

but of course on the other hand.

seeing your eyes blink open, features contorting into a mask of pleasure at the girth of him inside you. hearing your moans, and your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again. he figures, maybe it won’t be so bad if you do wake up.

it doesn’t take much for him to cum. one hand pawing at the smooth skin of your tits is enough to send him over the edge. at the same time you begin to blink up at him, whimpering at the way he’s left you wrecked.

“awh sweet girl, ‘m gonna take care ‘f’ya. promise.” he mutters more sweet praises against your neck, lips trailing down your sternum. kerry takes his sweet fucking time leaving little bruises across your skin. you hear him huff in amusement when your tummy jumps, one hand coming to swat at his head.

"that tickles, asshole," you complain, your walls clenching around his load and squeezing it back out. you're desperate for release, your body sluggish and preening under every touch. "c'mon, ker. please, need you," you beg softly.

it's the voice that does him in, same as always. all you have to do is ask oh so softly and your big, scary boyfriend is putty in your hands.

"a'ight mama, 'm goin'," he grumbles. large, rough hands caress the soft flesh of your thighs, drawing one over his shoulder while he sinks his face lower. plush lips settle over your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves while his curls brush your lower belly.

the longer bits are dangling by his mouth, he's being a champ about it though. but you have the presence of mind to take your scrunchie from the bedside table and tie his hair back into a little bun. you cradle the side of his head, back arching in pleasure as he licks into your messy hole.

his tongue moves in a pattern you can't decipher. you drag your fingers through his bangs, give them a gentle tug, and ask, "you spellin' somethin' down there?"

when kerry looks up at you his chin is slick and shiny in the dim light. "awh nothin', just y'r name," he mutters, kissing your stomach softly, "an' thank you."

two fingers push deep inside you, his thumb moving to work at your clit. messy lips crash to yours, smearing all over your freshly washed skin, but you can't find it in yourself to care. not with the way his middle finger crooks inside you, pressing against a spot that has you seeing stars.

"kerrykerrykerry,” you babble, just how he likes you. fucked too stupid to say anything but his name.

“tha’s it,” he keeps his face so close that his lips brush yours when he speaks. one thumb tugs your bottom lip, his teeth sinking gently into the top one before he asks, “you gonna cum f’me, darlin’?”

“mmh! mmhm,” you hum in response, lips chasing after him with so much determination that your teeth knock together when you finally kiss him.

he doesn’t mind it. 

slow, deep pumps of his fingers paired with tight circles on your clit send a wave of pleasure crashing over your body. you lose all sense of your surroundings for a moment, crying out as your thighs shake. "daddy, daddy," is all you manage whine, nails digging into his biceps.

faintly you hear kerry chuckle, and mumble, "did s'good for daddy, look so pretty baby." amused at the way your cunt flutters around his fingers, squeezing his load out at the seams. he removes his fingers and spreads them out, white, sticky strings stretch between his digits. “open up,” kerry mumbles.

you do as you’re told, waiting for him to slip his fingers into your waiting mouth, but first he tastes for himself. The pads of his fingers dip into his mouth, smearing onto his lips in a way that makes you unable to look away. your mouth begins to close but kerry grips your jaw firmly. “tongue out,” he growls. 

again, you do as you’re told. you display the flat of your tongue and he spits into your mouth, one rough hand closing your jaw until you swallow. you loll your tongue out again to prove your obedience, rewarded with a sloppy kiss and the taste of mixed arousal on kerry’s tongue.

when you separate for air, he replaces his tongue with his fingers. you lick the digits clean with your eyes closed. deep breaths through your nose and kerry’s gentle kisses across your face help slow your heart rate. 

time passes in a haze until kerry decides it’s time for bed. he kisses your forehead, one finger pulling on your lower lip as it slips from your mouth. he pulls it into an exaggerated pout, face looming over yours until your mouth lifts into an awkward smile. he lets go and stands from the bed. 

“stay right there darlin’,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss your tummy. on his way out he tosses you the clean, red silk robe that hangs on the back of the door. after propping yourself comfortably on the pillows you slip off your tee—now bunched up by your collarbones from the night’s activities—and wrap yourself in the robe. 

to be cheeky, you leave the top loose enough to show your chest, including the curve of your breast and the blossoming bruises kerry left there. he returns with a glass of ice water, a warm washcloth, and the instant camera you’d gifted him for his birthday.

you accept the glass with gracious hands and spread your legs apart, waiting for him to clean you up. but the washcloth gets placed on the bedside table, and just as quickly as you’d been given the water, it was taken. 

kerry shushes you when you whine. he sits on the edge of the bed, looming over you with the camera. “y’re so messy baby,” he mumbles, "wanna remember.”

you flinch as he lets go, leaving one hand on the camera, but his strength keeps the thing suspended. his thumb draws your lip into a perfect pout and before you know it the flash is firing in your eyes. “k-kerry!” you exclaim, blinking slowly.

the photo prints off, and he sets it to the side, kissing your forehead. you think you’re finished, but he moves to sit back on his knees, angling the camera towards your body. “‘ey, arch f’me pretty girl. please?” 

oh. he’s whining.

you smile and angle your knees apart, arching your spine off the bed. your hands pull at the tie on the robe, moving the edge of the fabric until the curve of your breast is visible. the camera flashes again, and you don’t mind as much. 

kerry cleans up your face first, wiping your sticky chin and cheeks with the washcloth before taking care of your sensitive pussy. his chest tightens at the way you mewl, the sound bordering pain and pleasure. “doin’ do good baby girl,” he encourages. 

as soon as he’s done the cloth is swiped over himself in a quick pass or two, getting the job done but with much less care than he exhibited towards you. when he tosses it off to the hamper, his arms are around you immediately, pressing his face against your chest. you cradle his head against your skin and pull his hair down, fingers petting through messy curls. 

kerry’s out in no time, and with the weight of him pressed against your chest so are you.

© gallaghersgal, 2024. inbox. masterlist.

div., cafekitsune (x), sugarish (x).

[pandorxxx]

Lurkin’

Lo’ak (19) x human fem reader (18)

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, BLOOD (from biting), p in v, oral, biting, choking, squirting, cursing,rough sex, size kink, praise kink, CNC.

🔞Minors do not interact🔞

With a loud gasp, you finally awoke. Sitting up quickly to scan your surroundings. You look around frantically to find yourself in the forest. You remember walking through the forest of pandora with a couple of scientists. You were new, so they had to show you around. And now, you’re here.

“Ughhhh” you winced, sitting up slowly. You scanned your body for injuries finding several, but nothing too serious. You looked down at your clothes as they were almost completely ripped off.

“What the hell happened?” You mumbled under your breath, wobbling to your feet.

“Hello!!!” You yelled, cupping your hands to your mouth. You looked around for a moment, and nothing. You sighed loudly, trying desperately to remember your way back to the lab. What you didn’t know was that there were a pair of eyes, watching your every move.

Lo’ak was lurking in the shadows, following you. He noticed that you were in distress; clothes torn, hair a mess, blood visible on parts of your body. He assumed you were a scientist, lost in the forest.

Jake took lo’ak to the forest, as his rut was approaching. Lo’ak was completely untamable in his state, but maybe coming to the forest was a bad idea this time. He was intrigued by little you; The way you stumbled on the huge rocks, your frustration from actually being lost. You were hypnotizing to him.

His rut was almost at the peek, and he couldn’t take the lurking anymore. He walked closer behind you, making sure to keep quiet. He made his was behind you, towering over your little frame.

You felt a presence behind you. Your heart beating fast, not knowing if you should turn around or run. Before you knew it, you felt a strong hand wrap around your neck gently, from behind. Then a strong hand cupping your mouth.

“Don’t scream ok?” He commands calmy. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, but you quickly nod in hopes that he would let you go. To your surprise, he did. He turned you towards him by your shoulder. You look up at the na’vi, basking in all of his glory; he was glowing in the moan light, his skin was a calming blue, and his strip pattern was intricate. He was towering over you, panting loudly as he glared into your terrified eyes.

“Please, don’t hurt me. I’m lost, I need to get back to the lab.” You plead taking his hand in yours, almost in tears. He looked down at your hands, locked together, and then back to you.

“I will not hurt you, I just need some help.” He stated, getting down on his knees to seem less intimidating. You stopped weeping to shoot him a confused look.

“Help? From me?” You asked, tracing his glowing freckles down to his chest. He pulled your chin up, connecting his eyes with yours.

“Yes, from you.” He replied, squeezing your hand firmly, pushing a strand of hair out of you face as he wiped your tears. You noticed his breathing becoming rapid the more he touched you. His eyes were not the color you studied about, but more of a deep red. He was sweating profusely, and it was no where near hot at this time of night. These were only symptoms of a Navi in rut.

Your eyes widened from realization, as you let his hand go, stepping back slowly.

“No no no, please. I can’t help you with that.” You whimper, shaking your head desperately trying to wake up from what had to be a dream.

“You can’t help me with what?” He asked, tilting his head as he glared at your small frame. You knew he was playing games. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he just wanted to hear you say it, hear you beg for mercy. You glance down at his loincloth, noticing the huge bulge growing by the second. A single tear falls from your eye as you realized there was no way out of this.

“I have to go back…” you whisper, but it comes out as a soft cry. He shook his head, leaning back on his knees.

“I’ll take you back, later. I need you right now.” He growled, glaring at you through his eyebrows. There was awkward silence for a moment as you planned your escape. He caught on quickly, and smirked at you.

“Come here.” He commanded coldly. He started undoing his loincloth, letting it drop to the ground. Your mouth flew opened at the size of him. You were almost sure that it was the size of your forearm. The veins that lined his cock were pulsating, needy for attention. Drops of precum dripped to the moss underneath him.

“Shit” you screeched, not being able to keep your eyes off of it. He licked his lips at your discomfort, almost as if he was turned on by it.

“Don’t make me come over there.” He sung, stroking his length as he eye fucked you. You shook your head side to side frantically before backing up more. Lo’ak was growing frustrated, low growls rumbling in his chest. He lashed out, grabbing you by your arm, and bring you nose to nose with him.

“I was trying to be nice, my love. That shits over now.” He growled, snaking his hand around to the back of your head. He stood up tall, looking down at your helpless face. The tip of his cock was inches away from your mouth. You tried to back up, but his grip on your head didn’t allow that.

“Open.” He commanded, now holding your head with both hands. You opened your mouth slowly, and before you knew it, he plunged half of his cock into your mouth. Your screams were muffled from being stuffed. You pushed on his lowered abdomen, but he wouldn’t let up.

“Don’t fight me, babygirl. I need your help.” He moaned, thrusting into your mouth. Him being at the back of your throat was an understatement, you felt like he was tickling your rib cage. You were choking constantly, trying your best to breath through your nose.

“Fuck! Babygirl don’t do that. You’re gonna make me cum in this pretty little mouth of yours.” He groaned, stuffing alittle more of himself down your throat with every thrust. Tears were running out of your now red eyes. You felt your consciousness leaving you slowly. You tapped his leg exhaustedly, and that caught his attention. He pulled out of your mouth, and you gasped for air, eyes wide as the spit ran down your chin.

“You look so fucking pretty like this.” He muttered, tapping the tip on your swollen lips. In an instant, he lifted you up, pinning you to a nearby tree. He tore your already ripped shorts off of you with one swift pull. That’s when you started fighting him, trying with all your might to get him off of you. He grabbed your cheeks, squeezing them together.

“You wanna be a good girl and give it to me? Or do you want me to take it? Either way, you’re getting this dick.” He growled, Turning your face to the side to attack your neck. Even after his statement, you tried to push him back, punching his chest, and the arms that help you up.

“STOP!” He shouted, pinning your neck to the bark behind you. You finally stopped all sudden movements, realizing that there was no way to fight him off.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled, grabbing his cock and lining it up to your entrance. He could feel you shaking in fear underneath his touch, and a piece of humanity slipped through the cracks of his rut.

“I will try to go slow. Yeah? Does that make you feel better?” He searched your teary eyes for consent. You nodded slowly, pouting at him. With that, he slide the tip in slowly. You gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly. He bit his lip, trying to refrain from plunging deep into you. He lingered for a while, letting you get used to just the tip.

“You’re doing good, babygirl. I’m gonna go alittle deeper now, ok?” He asked, and you nodded. Even though he was in rut, he was doing well at restraining himself, but all restraint was slipping away slowly.

You nodded, bitting your bottom lip tightly with your eyes shut. He slowly slide half way into you, and the way you sucked him in was sending him over the edge. He started thrusting into you slowly, growling loudly as he hung his head onto your shoulder. You tapped his shoulder, letting him know that it was too much, but he was already slipping away.

“OKAY, slow down please. I-I need a minute.” You whimpered, trying to pull his face off of your shoulder.

“I-im so sorry!” He moaned, shaking his head before slamming the rest of his cock Into you.

“OHHH SHITTTT!” You whine, trying to climb out of his arms. He squeezed your waist tighter as he rutted into you at a steady pace, yet and still very deep.

“Mhmmm FUCK! You’re so fucking tight!” He growled, biting down on your shoulder. Your eyes widened when you felt small lines of blood trickle down your shoulder.

“P-please!” You whimper, shutting your eyes tightly as his thrusts became slower to accommodate your pain.

“I-I’m t-trying baby, just take it for me.” He moaned breathlessly, holding on to you for dear life. He licked the womb clean, massaging it with his tongue. The pain from him stretching you out slowly subsided. You tried to focus on the feeling of him hitting your spot with every thrust as he slid in and out of you slowly. How warm he was, and how his strong arms wrapped around you. The way he kissed your neck, leaving hickeys everywhere. The way he moaned in your ear at how good you felt sucking him in just right.

“Mmmmm shittt” your voice jumped from each deep thrust, as you threw your head back.

“Does it feel better?” He asked, still sucking the blood from your opened womb. Something about his gentle licks along your sore skin sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t believe that you were enjoying this, and that he got you to open up. You didn’t want him to stop.

“b-bite me!” You moaned, putting your arms up to the heavens to give him easy access. He bent down to your ripped shirt, completely tearing it off to reveal your plump breasts, bouncing up and down from each stroke. He sucked your nipple before moving up, biting your breast hard enough to draw blood.

“Is that what you wanted, babygirl?” He titled his head, bouncing you up and down on him by your waist. Your moans got stuck in your throat from the mix of pain and pleasure. All you could do was nod. He smirked, bending down again to lick the womb clean, massaging around it with his tongue. You watched as the blood dripped down your abdomen, all the way to where you two were connected. You glanced back up at him to see your blood dripping from his lips as he looked at you with heavy, lustful eyes. The image alone sent you over the edge.

“I-I- FUCK!!” Was all you could mutter out before gripping his arms, bowing your head back on the bark behind you. He licked from your breast to your neck, catching all the blood that flowed down.

“You wanna taste it, babygirl?” He growled, making you look him in the eyes. Blood still dripping from him mouth. He looked so seductive in that moment that you just couldn’t help yourself. You wrapped your arms around his head, crashing your lips into his. The kiss was slow and sloppy, and the copper taste consumed you. You bit down on his lip hard, drawing blood as you sucked it up.

“Mhmm yes baby girl! now you’re getting it.” He smiled into the kiss, rutting into you faster. You could feel your orgasm approaching as you dug your nails into his arms, eyes locked with his.

“You gonna cum for me? Hmm?” He asked nodding his head. You nodded yours too, jaw dropped as he smashed into your sweetspot with every thrust.

“I-I’m!!!” you muttered, leaning your head on his shoulder as you clung to him tightly.

“I know, babygirl. I’m gonna give you what you want. He sent you one hard thrust, massaging your sweetspot with his swollen tip. Just like that, you squirted all over his cock as your juices flowed down his legs.

“Oh my fucking god, yesssss!!!” You screamed, convulsing in his arms as tears flowed down your face.

“It’s my turn baby, I’m almost done with you. You’re doing so fucking good for me.” He kissed your blood stained lips before pinning you back to the wall. He shift the bend of your knees to hang over his forearms as he placed his hands on the tree bark behind you. He started thrusting into you hard and fast, watching your face contort in absolute pleasure. The pleasure was beginning to be too much for you to the point where you had double vision , feeling completely lightheaded.

“Im almost there baby, wake up for me!” He shouted, smacking your face lightly to keep you conscious. You were moaning, and mumbling, trying your best to keep your eyes opened.

“I -I can’t…” you mutter breathlessly, head falling to the bark behind you. He bit down on your chest, waking you up alittle bit.

“Yes you can, baby. Just alittle longer. You’re doing so good.” He moaned, licking the blood from the new wound. Your body twitched under his touch, as a single tear ran down your face. Lo’ak felt his stomach twist in pleasure, and he just couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Ohhh fuck, you ready for me to cum in this tight little pussy, babygirl? Huh?” He growled slapping your face once more. You nodded wearily, desperately waiting for him to be done with you. Lo’ak threw his head back in pure bliss, shooting his load deep inside of you.

“Fuck yesss!!!” He whined, thrusting into you slowly to ride out his high. You finally fell limp in his arms, snuggling into his chest. The fog of his rut slowly went away, clearing his mind. He looked down at your bruised and bloody body, gasping loudly. He gently laid you on the moss, before hovering over your limp body, slipping in and out of consciousness. He was hesitant to touch you, as he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already did.

“Umm…hello?” He said in shaky breaths, poking at you. Your eyes opened half way, staring at the figure hovering over you.

“Hmm?” You hummed deliriously, trying to get up, but the spikes of pain shot threw your entire body, causing you to wince loudly.

“Woah, woah, lay back.” Lo’ak commanded, pushing you back by your chest lightly. He scanned your body thoroughly, looking at all of the bites and bruises, before looking at your face.

“Hey, I’m gonna get you cleaned up before I take you to the lab. Is it ok if I pick you up?” He asked caressing your hair with a lighthearted smile. You nodded, holding your arms out for him to help you up. He chuckled softly before picking you up by your hips, wrapping them around his waist. You looked into his now, bright yellow eyes, caressing his cheek.

“W-what’s your name?” You asked, playing with his braids, almost fascinated by how beautiful his hair was. He smiled at your wonder-like demeanor.

“Lo’ak. My name is lo’ak. What’s is yours?” He asked, walking in the directing of the River.

“Y/n…” you said,wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. He hugged you back tightly, rubbing your back.

“Will I see you again?” You asked, almost devastated that this could be your last encounter with him. He smiled at you, and leaned down to your ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be watching you.”

Not my girl falling in love with that Na’vi 🍆. She is in a full trance now🤦🏾‍♀️, and i low key love that for her🫶🏽. Anywaysss, as always, love y’all to death and I’ll see you soon❤️!!!

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

[purplelupins]

Happy together

|The Black Phone|

Part IV

Albert Shaw/Grabber x Fem!reader

Summery: Nothing like a new city. You just wanted a fresh start, and something comfortable, but what happens when you start to see the exact same patterns in Denver as you did before?

Warnings: mentions of murder, injury description, smut, dubious consent, breeding, begging, flirting, daddy kink, p in v, use of pet names (kiddo, kid, princess, honey) fingering, oral (f receiving), grinding, cumming in pants, semi public sex, violence, swearing, blood kink, face paint, reader is a sad baby

Notes: this is a commissioned fic for @mandowifey and the face claim for Richard is Hamish Linklater in Tell Me Your Secrets

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You needed him.

You had always thought the word limerence had a nice ring, but you hadn’t thought it would feel so devestatibgly addictive.

You wanted to pick that man apart bit by bit and bite into his heart so hard he could see bits of it in your teeth when you smiled. You wanted him to think of you so often he couldn’t stand it.

And you wanted to piss him off his rocker while doing it.

Your feet felt detached from your body as you walked to your bed. It barely registered that you had laid down until the smell of cotton and your soap enveloped you. Your limbs still ached from your encounter in the alley, and you half hoped the hurt would stay for a while, and half wanted to leave an angry message for your neighbour detailing how badly your back and legs hurt.

Your mind ran. It was as if everything up until that moment had been preparation for him. That grumpy old man who slept just 40 feet from you. Your head spun as you took inventory of every kill and move you had made since…since you started, and how every step had brought you there.

To him.

Right where you were supposed to be.

A cool breeze smoothed down your legs as as your blanket lay beside you unused. The window in your room sat open and unassuming…just in case he came. Then you glanced down that the floor just under the window and a twitch of a smirk pulled at your lips when the light caught the shards of broken glass you had scattered there. Just in case the old fuck tried anything.

Goodluck picking that shit out of your feet, Shaw.

You hoped you would be able to hear him yelp and swear with his dick all hard as he crept into your trap to carry out one of his perverted stake-outs. Having a Polaroid of that would keep you happy for the rest of your life.

But sadly for your sake, Albert had seen you unscrew one of your lamp’s lightbulbs and crush it in a towel. It didn’t take much brain work to put two and two together when you disappeared into your bedroom. He knew it was a little welcome gift just for him. And while once upon a time he might have been annoyed, and disappointed that you were trying to stave him off. But as he crept back from your window, he couldn’t help the tiny grin that pulled his mouth into a smirk. You were thinking of him.

And Albert liked that.

But while that knowledge did elate him, Albert was a smart man, and he knew knowledge is power. And oh how badly he wanted power over you. Ever since he had felt your soft flesh under his finger tips and your usually so defiant, arrogant voice in his ear whining for him, he needed more. He needed you to feel small. He needed you in the palm of his hand so he could swallow you like a pill to satiate his sick desire.

So he ignored you.

You had expected him to at least break into your house, but when days passed, there was a hole in your stomach that began to fester. You found yourself checking his house constantly, even looking at the door of the diner every time the bell above the door rang. Every creak at night made you get up to investigate and every car going by made you stare to see who was driving.

You felt insane.

You didn’t like feeling insane.

Everyday it was a horrible battle between you and yourself as to whether or not you should call him or break into his house again. The feeling of rejection and solitude took shape and fed that hole in you until it was gaping and you couldn’t sleep or function properly.

It didn’t matter how many men you flirted with or how many shitty jokes you laughed at. You even tried to chat up one of your regulars when his wife wasn’t with him…

How dare he.

However, you hating it didn’t stop you from going to the liquor store after work once a few days had passed. You made your way towards the far side where the whiskeys and brandies were kept; you had known enough men to know that nine times out of ten, they could appreciate a nice bottle of well aged liquor.

In your mind, your plan was faultless. You were going to deliver the bottle with a snarky little note that would get under his skin and it would both impress him enough or irritate him enough to confront you. Either that or he would do nothing and it would give you an excuse to sneak into his living room to drink a couple fingers of it while you waited for him to come home to remind him of who he was trying to fuck with. It was a win-win situation really.

You finished the note in your car, and tied a little blue bow around the neck of the bottle of whiskey. You had considered dropping it at his door, but while you liked Max, you didn’t trust him not to find the bottle and open it for himself.

You took a long breath, and pushed yourself out of your seat and onto the side walk, and shut your door. You rolled your shoulders back and began to walk down the block to the hardware store in the shortest skirt you had. A rush began to fill your head in anticipation of pouring gasoline onto this game of cat and cat you played with the older man; he thought he could just call it quits after he got a little something from you? Well he certainly had something else coming. You couldn’t wait to see the little bomb plant itself in his head until it detonated and he came to you.

You missed him.

You opened the door to the hardware shop, and smiled brightly as you walked up to the empty counter. When no one came out, your smile fell a little in annoyance, and you rang the service bell a couple times.

“Sorry- coming, shi- I- oh!” Emmett nearly stumbled out from the back room and smacked into the counter.

The lust for blood began to curl tight when you saw the young man come out to greet you. You just couldn’t tell if it grew stronger because it wasn’t Albert and you weren’t satisfied or because you enjoyed the anticipation.

“Hey Em…where’s the big bad boss man?” you grinned and tilted your head. It wasn’t as if you could say “Why the hell are you here?” Or “I want Al.”

“Oh- Al? He’s in his office…is something wro-“ he started leaning over the counter to you when he stopped short.

“Emmett?! Did you finish with those boxes?”

All at once, that growing hole in your gut collapsed in on itself and flipped and churned. You felt your throat tighten, and your hands start to shake and your ears rang. Your cheeks heated and your ears burned.

What’s wrong with you? Take a breath and say something back to the old man-

But somehow, words alluded you, and you found yourself thrusting the bottle into Emmett’s hands and turning on your heel without a care in the world, “Nothatsokayhereyougothisisforyourbossbye!” You blurted out and were out the door before the poor boy could get another word out.

You chose not to have any kind of confrontation with yourself over your behaviour that night as you drove home. It might have been more merciful to have your head cave in than to deal with whatever the hell this was.

It was ridiculous.

You had never been made to feel this small…and now you’re leaving him gifts oh well done you twat.

You drove home and settled into bed with a cold, empty feeling in your bones. It infected your sinew and cooled your blood. It was something that you hadn’t felt in years, and something you never thought would happen again…not like this at least.

You liked this one.

You actually liked him.

But you were hurting and really it was all his fault. If he didn’t like you then why did he grope you like a teenage boy in that alleyway?

Fuck him…

“Richard I really couldn’t…I’m so flattered, but-“

The thin man towered over you, and you leaned your hand on one hip as he did his best to convince you to come to his daughter’s birthday party/annual summer barbecue. You noticed that he slouched a great deal.

Albert didn’t slouch…

“C’mon it’ll be just what you need. You were just telling me about how much you want to make some friends and plus I- it, I’ll…it’ll-“ he stumbled over his words, and you found yourself nodding a little as if to encourage him like a toddler. The man sighed, and sat down on one of the stools next to you. “It’ll be fun and I’d like it if you came…we’re- we’re friends right?” He raised his gaze to meet yours, and he looked so hopeful that you almost patted his head like he was some lost puppy in need of reassurance.

You pretended to hum and think about it. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to go- you didn’t mind.

Free food, free drinks, and cake.

It was something to do and something to take your mind off of that fucking old man with those blue eyes who made you cu-

“I don’t think your wife likes me after that first time we met.” You reminded him and his shoulders slumped a little.

But he didn’t give up.

“She’ll be so busy and honestly she probably doesn’t even remember, she just-“

You put a finger to his lips and smiled, “Hey, hey! I was kidding. I’ll just help with the plates and hide behind the balloons.” You laughed and shrugged.

His entire face lit up, and you felt yourself actually get a little excited…but not as excited as you knew you might have if it wasn’t for your mind being distracted.

“You- wait, you’ll come?” He gasped and stood, “You’re coming? Oh thank god- oh that’s- I’m so pleased- thank you!” His hands reached out as if to hug you but he stopped himself short and just beamed at you. You waved at him and looked into the kitchen window to see if there were any orders up.

“Oh you know, what are friends for, huh? Besides I think you owe me some free food after all the whipped cream and extra fries I’ve smuggled for you.” You elbowed him and he laughed a little awkwardly.

“Haha, yes…well, here let me…write down the address…” he mumbled to himself as he searched for a pen in his jacket and grabbed a napkin. You watched as he wrote, though your eyes became unfocused as your mind drifted. It wasn’t like you didn’t already know where Richard lived. You had followed him home enough to know a few different routes too, not that he needed to know that. He started to ramble about how the annual barbecue had started and you smiled and nodded while your eyes glazed over…

You thought of veiny hands and thick forearms and greying hair that needed a trim and sharp canines-

“It’s at 11 o’clock and uh…should last until about 4 o’clock…you don’t have to stay the entire time though. Just- you can just come for a bit. Or stay! What- whatever you like.” Richard had become a bit of a fumbling mess with his words as the two of you got closer. He was sweet…so miserable and so pathetic, but sweet. You sometimes wondered if he liked to beg…

You nodded and took the paper before pocketing it in your uniform. “I’ll be there.” You added a smile to send your performance home.

He smiled back and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Great! Super. I’ll see you then.” He said, gathering himself and backing towards the door.

You waved at him, “See you!”

He left, and you mindlessly went back to your job. Your face went back to how you schooled it for work, and you let your mind coast on auto pilot for the rest of your shift. You found that your usual prowl for fresh meat was more of a bored glance. You pretended like you didn’t care who walked through the door. You pretended to not care that your legs didn’t hurt anymore.

Four days. It was four days from the time that Richard had given you the invite to the day that you were expected to attend…and those four days all but evaporated.

You were constantly looking for ways to go over to the Shaw residence but you swore it was like some kind of divine intervention would occur every time you did…without the divine part. There was always something that got in the way or no one was home and you could only leave your used panties on Alberts pillow so many times before it got old.

So when you checked yourself in the mirror one last time and smoothed down your summer dress, you welcomed the change in routine. A part of you was almost excited to be back to your old self a little…testing the waters with Richard would be fun, and you felt a rush start to surge through you at the thought of being in his home with his family and friends. But then you felt your shoulders sag a little.

It wasn’t him.

But you had a job to do, and who knows…you might scope out some new men to play with…

…but what’s the fun in that…

You stared up at the house- pristine and admirable. You sighed and half considered going home, but decided against it when you thought of losing all your hard work on Richard. You pulled yourself from your car and grabbed the gift for his daughter, and strode up to the front door. You knocked a few times, but when no answer came, you followed the sound of voices and children laughing around the back of the house.

Sure enough, the party was in full swing. Several men and women you recognized from around the city, or neighbours of your hosts. God was in your good graces that afternoon as no one had clocked your entrance yet; you wanted to keep it that way. You slowly made your way past a train of kids and over to the food table where you grabbed a glass of juice, and started immersing yourself into the part of ‘sweet, friendly stranger’.

“Crazy summer, hey?”

“You catch the game the other night?”

“I can’t believe they’re knocking down the old post office.”

“Pretty dress, oh it has pockets? I need one.”

You managed conversations with several people without saying much of anything for several minutes when you finally saw your hostess. You bit your tongue to suppress the smirk that so badly wanted to come forth when you saw the little scowl on her face. You excused yourself, and decided to find her better half.

You passed by the little face painting table for the children and a parent almost losing consciousness while blowing balloon after balloon. It was sweet.

A little too sweet.

As you ventured to another part of the backyard, you heard a familiar voice call out from inside the house.

Of course he was the errand dog.

You wandered up to the back porch and slipped inside the double doors into the dining room. You could see into the kitchen, and sure enough there was a very tall, very rushed older man there who looked everything “dad”. You forced a smile.

“I like that polo.” You called to him as he shoved his head into a cupboard. Richard whipped around and almost lost his footing at the sound of your voice.

“You came!” He smiled back at you almost relieved, and put down the paper plates he had gotten and came over to you. You had expected him to just stand there with his hands in his pockets or shake your hand but he scooped you up for a hug. You clung to him out of reflex and let him hold you. You hoped he couldn’t feel your knife in a holder between your breasts.

“Thank god you came…these are all my wife’s friends or parents of kids I don’t know,” he slowly released you and waved his hand outside as he explained, “Good to see your face, honey.” He added with a smile.

You returned the smile out of reflex, and shrugged, “Not like I had anything better to do.” You playfully punched his shoulder and he moved with your touch.

Gangly, tall man.

You wondered if a breeze would knock him over. Then you cast a look over his shoulder at the plates and nodded into the kitchen, “What can I do?” You asked.

Play the part, play the part…

Richard spun and looked at the various items on the counters that needed to be brought out, “Oh- well…I don’t want to put you to work on your day off. You being here is enough.”

You shook your head and started guiding him into the kitchen, “I need somewhere to hide remember? Not everyone here thinks I’m adorable.” You pushed, and to your pleasure his ears turned pink. At least that was a little enjoyable to curb your underlying boredom.

“I- well-“ he laughed, knowing you were talking about his wife, “I-I suppose…would you take those extra cups out to the punch table? I forgot about three times to do it so she might actually be happy for once.” He smiled a little sadly.

You felt a little pang of hurt for the man, but snapped a sympathetic smile back onto your face. He eyed it, and returned the expression. It was no secret how miserable he was.

“I’m on it!” You chirped, and retrieved the cups that he had pointed to, and breezed past him. Richard seemed relieved to have some help, and you knew he watched you go down the steps to the back yard; you let your dress sway a little extra just to play with him.

You placed the cups down, and let your gaze wander. It all felt so domestic, and you felt yourself flush a little at the idea that this was your house…your family…but you knew the likelihood of that happening was slim to none-

“Hey kids! Who here knows a magician’s magic word?!”

“ABRACADABRA!”

Your throat squeezed.

You whipped your head around to the voice, and felt yourself go lightheaded.

You never thought face paint and a top hat would make your thighs quiver and your mouth grow slick…but something about Albert Shaw bowing theatrically for the gaggle of children had you weak.

It had been over a week since you had seen him properly; not watching his van pull out in the mornings or glimpses of him through his windows at night. Your chest filled with hurt, and your nose stung.

You felt jealous over the kids standing too close as he performed a trick. You wanted to be the one he was focused on.

You felt someone come and stand beside you at the punch table, and you looked up to see Richard eyeing the entertainment. “Not bad huh?”

You shrugged but nodded, “Kids love a good magic trick.” You pushed the lump in your throat down.

He nodded with you, “Hey I have a couple more things inside, would- would you give me a hand?” He pointed his thumb back, and you almost said no.

No I miss him.

You cast one more look at Albert, and this time, he saw you. You felt his blue eyes lock onto yours as he waited for a kid to pick a card. You could see his body go stock still for a moment, though you applauded his recovery. You felt that pang of hurt return to you when you remembered how he had been avoiding you. How he hadn’t even said thank you for the liquor. How he hadn’t left you a message to stop leaving your panties. How he hadn’t showed up to kill you yet.

But then, the hurt churched into something else when you were struck with an idea. It wasn’t something you were terribly keen on doing…but it might just be the push that old bastard needed to come and say something to you.

You looked away from Al, and smiled brightly up at Richard who was returning his gaze to you after saying hello to a guest. “I’m all yours.” You said, and you almost felt bad for how instantly Richard blushed.

But it wasn’t his blush that fuelled you, it was the jaded glare that burned into you from the man with white face paint and top hat.

And you let the fire rage.

You brushed Richard’s elbow with your hand as you both turned to return to the house, and you shot him another smile. When he saw it, he stuttered halfway through responding to his wife who said something to him in passing.

He was such a plain, dad type with a face like a puppy…so utterly easy so manipulate.

A bit of a loser really.

He led you inside as he prattled on about last year’s barbecue and how one of his good friends had moved away since then and how he can’t believe his daughter is growing up so fast and how it wasn’t this hot last year. But you responded and hummed in acknowledgement like a good girl, and followed him past the kitchen into the walk-in pantry.

“-there’s just so much I used to want but now I’m just excited for bed at the end of a long day-“ he stopped mid sentence and looked at you and winced, “God I’m so sorry you must think I’m so pathetic.”

You laughed gently and shook your head, “Not at all…things just change!”You said. You weren’t entirely lying, and you knew that if you told him that he was indeed a lost cause, he might breakdown in tears…though that might have been a pleasant sight…

You both stood there in the cramped space, and stared at one another for a moment, before Richard blinked and remembered that he was a husband and father in his own house.

“Right, uh…if you could grab the jar of Maraschino cherries and the crackers just there, then I’ll get these…hm…what else…” he hummed and looked from shelf to shelf as you gathered what he said. However, you accidentally knocked a box of Graham cookies off one of the shelves in the process.

“Oh shoot…” you said to yourself, and bent over to pick up the box. As fate would have it, the moment you bent over was the same moment Richard remembered there was a treat he had bought for his daughter just above where your head had been. Thus, when you bent over, the older man leaned past you and pressed up against your backside just as you started to stand up. You gasped softly and jumped a little in surprise— or at least what he would interpret as surprise. You of course were not truly surprised, you knew it was only a matter of time before he accidentally brushed up against you while you were “helping” him.

Richard inhaled sharply and almost flinched away as you straightened.

You slowly turned and noted that he didn’t step away. After a timid moment, you gradually rose your gaze up to his; his breaths were coming hard as his chest rose and fell visibly.

You flushed, “S-sorry…didn’t mean to get in your way.” You made your voice a little sweeter, and looked away as you squirmed. Such a fail safe strategy. Worked every time.

“No- no it’s my fault- I…I’m sorry.” He stuttered, though even you could tell he wasn’t entirely apologetic.

Interesting.

You half expected him to get spooked, but then after a moment of staring down at you, he moved just a centimetre closer. Enough that his chest was pressing against you and you could feel his breath on your forehead.

You could see his normally wide brown eyes drop as they hooded over, and his lips parted. You wondered when had been the last time he was touched…hugged…fucked…

“I forgive you.” You whispered with the tiniest of grins, proud of yourself for making it seem genuine when you were mentally pulling your hair out.

The older man huffed out an incredulous laugh, and you looked down bashfully. But then, a large hand came to your cheek and tilted your face back up; warm but dry lips covered yours on a fleeting kiss. Gone just as fast as it had been there.

You met your eyes go wide, and surprised like you had no idea he was going to do that.

“I’m…Christ I’m so sorry- I don’t know what- im…I’ve never-“ he started, running a hand over his face as he stepped away to the other side of the narrow room; still only a foot and a half away from you.

“It-it’s okay…” you wrung your hands and looked at your knuckles.

He chanced a glance at you, momentarily stopping his internal anxiety.

You hid your smirk. “I-I um…I know you’re married…and you’re a great dad…it’s just…I…I like you…”you continued, and slowly looked up at him; he was watching you with baited breath, “I liked it.” You finished, and flicked your gaze to his lips.

It’s not him it’s not him…

As soon as you had finished talking, Richard could feel too much blood drain down past his pelvis, and he twitched a little at the sensation. The most release he got was when he showered alone in the mornings before work. His wife kissed him on the cheek for show when they were out, and he only got hugs from his mother and his daughter. Now here you were…half his age and looking up at him so enticingly telling him you liked his kiss.

Richard looked out the pantry to the back door that was half visible to the outside if you looked hard enough. He seemed to think for a moment, then a sick satisfaction curled inside you when you saw his restrained snap in two.

He took the step between you and held your cheeks in his hands as he kissed you again. Your lips pushed into your inner lip, and you winced a little before returning his affection.

Hard.

You closed your eyes and pretended. His teeth clanked against yours and you could tell he was about to pull away to apologize again when you grabbed the short hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer. It was as if his mind stopped working and he hit autopilot as he gave in and let himself be greedy.

It was a mess; both of you knocking into the walls of the small room and you fought for a comfortable place to press up against each other. The older man reached down and slowly brought your thigh up and over his hip.

“I-…god help me I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.” He whispered, eyes a little nervous. “That fucking whipped cream…” he added in a mumble.

You keened and whined softly for him as you kept your eyes shut and imagined blue ones staring down at you instead. The imagine of Al pressing you against that pantry wall had you rolling your hips over his crotch like a needy whore, feeling him get harder and harder. He was twitching and throbbing in seconds against your panties and your daydream broke a little when you felt how different he was than Albert.

He might not have been the exact person you wanted to be rubbing up on, but he was a fair stand in and he seemed more than happy to do it.

You squirmed as you felt your panties soak through. “R-Richard I’m- …your pants.” You whimpered as you tore away from his mouth to look down between your squished bodies; the dark spot on his khakis where you were grinding on him was obvious.

“You’re- jeez you’re soaked…is that for me, sweetheart?” He panted out in disbelief at the idea of a young thing like you making such a mess for him.

No it’s for him…

With your eyes closed you were miles away in someone else’s arms. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been so distracted, and you felt the creep of anxiety in the back of your mind; whether it was from the guilt of letting this man touch you or from your imagination floating around a certain part time magician like one of his cheap black balloons, you weren’t sure. So you nodded feebly, feigning embarrassment.

You might have drawn things out longer, but you were never very patient. And now even less so- almost wanting to get things over with quickly even though it was you who had started it.

“T-touch me…” you mewled against his mouth as he kissed you and ground himself against you like a horny teenager.

And suddenly, Richard didn’t seem to care about the party or how he hated his wife or how old his baby girl was turning or if she would like her presents. All he cared about was you whining for his touch.

The older man wordlessly lifted your skirt and lifted a shaky finger to his mouth; sucking on it quickly before reaching down between your thighs and slipping it past the hem of your panties. Richard might have been twice your age but he too was greatly lacking any self control as he only teased you for a moment before easing his long finger inside you to the knuckle.

He had long forgotten what a warm body wrapped around him felt, and Richard’s head went light as he pumped his finger inside you a few times. It was euphoric. He could have died happy knowing that he could still make a woman wet.

Richard could feel your slick soaking through the leg of his pants, but he wasn’t about to stop this god given gift. Fuck the pants.

Every bit of stress he felt and worry he had vanished as he began to work his fingers inside you. It didn’t matter that you were wishing it was a murderous neighbour of yours in his place. You just couldn’t wait to see the look on the old fuck’s face when he saw both of you completely wrecked and disheveled.

Richard might had been a little sloppy but he had you climbing steadily with help from you pushing your hips into his palm to message your clit. Your skin began to feel far too warm, and your whines were muffled by his lips smushing against yours. But it wasn’t quite enough. You could tell by his staggered and rougher ruts against you that he was getting close himself, and you weren’t about to be left high and dry if he came first. You reached a hand down between you both and covered his hand with yours and pressed the heel of his hand down against you, and rotated it; you cried out loudly into his mouth, and Richard momentarily felt his anxiety peak but it was gone again when you started begging him.

“Pl-please don’t stop- I- I’m- im gonna-“ you tried to get out as you manipulated his hand to pleasure yourself.

The older man nodded, knocking your nose a little and continued his efforts. His breaths came in little gasps that grew faster and faster as he pulled away from your mouth. You went to chase his lips but he buried his face in your shoulder and you heard him moan weakly into your skin. You shut your eyes and let yourself grind against his palm, and evidently it was exactly what you needed as just seconds after, you were biting into his shirt as you clenched down around his fingers that curled inside you.

“I-i- ah! A-Al-“ you whined softly as your hips ground down against him and your thighs shook while you soaked his hand. You felt the pant leg under you grow saturated and warm; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this middle aged man had just cum in his khakis after grinding on you.

Richard either didn’t care or didn’t hear you whine out another man’s name as you came.

Not like either of you knew that the party’s entertainment had gotten a package of glitter all over his hands and needed a sink to wash up. Not like either of you saw him glowering from just out of view as he watched and listened to the two of you breathing each other’s air.

Albert noisily grabbed a towel from the kitchen, making the man you were slumped against jump as he sobered up from his haze. He held you a little tighter as if it would conceal the two of you a little better; you both watched the other man leave the house into the yard, and Richard heaved a sigh of relief while you felt any euphoria leave with your neighbour. Hurt stabbed at you again, and you felt jealous tears sting in your eyes.

He didn’t even look at you.

This wasn’t fair.

“-y/n?”

You blinked and looked up at Richard who was now staring down at you with a slightly anxious stare.

You blinked again and sighed like you were in a daze of his making, “I’m- oh I’m sorry…what was that?” You asked shaking your head like you were embarrassed.

“I was- I was uh…just-just saying that w-we should probably get ourselves Um…cleaned up.” He murmured awkwardly but not coldly. You gathered this was the first time he had ever done something like that- it would have been endearing if it weren’t for your lack of care.

You had let yourself get too attached to Albert. He was going to leave you just like the rest-

“Sure…think you need some new pants.” You said a little absentmindedly as you untangled from each other and you walked out of the small room. You could hear the man behind you stammer something out, and you hummed in agreement as you stared out the back window.

“I’ll-I’ll be back in just a minute.” He said. You knew that he was hoping for a little affection from you or…something. So you forced a smile on your face and turned back to him.

“See you out there, tiger.” You held the items you had gone in there for and watched him flash you a small smile in return, but once he was gone, so was your jovial expression.

This time, you looked at Albert properly as you approached the cake table with the items.

He was busy again…

Sitting on a stool pulling flowers out of thin air.

A plethora of emotions had been churning in you all day, and while you felt humiliation and jealously close to the surface, your sorrow was just below it. The thought of Albert toying with you but casting you aside for weeks might have made your blood boil for a while, but more than anything it stabbed at your heart.

You liked him.

You liked him a lot.

More than you had liked someone in a long time. And you thought that he might have liked you just as much especially after that afternoon in the alley.

But there was just…nothing.

You sucked in a breath and made up your mind.

You turned on your heel, and began back towards the house, to the path that you took when you had arrived.

“H-hey honey, where you going?” You heard Richard call to you as you passed the back stairs where he was descending.

“I-I’m I’m just not feeling too well…think it’s the heat. Thanks for the fun day!” You called out to him as cheerfully as you could, “See you later.”

He was hurt, and horrified that maybe he had driven you away, and you knew it. But you didn’t care. You didn’t want to be there anymore. You didn’t want to play pretend.

Albert watched you smile so sweetly at that middle aged loser who was paying him for the afternoon. He felt his stomach twist angrily as he recalled those sweet sounds you made as he touched you; just like when he had been the one holding you against that alley wall. He wondered if they were honest; if you actually liked him making you cum. Albert’s ears had filled with white noise before you had finished, and his blood was still boiling.

If this was the game you wanted to play, fine. But he had never been one for following the rules.

You climbed into your car, and drove away from that house with the white picket fence; your head felt light as you gripped the steering wheel and began to half hour drive home.

You were angry.

You wanted so badly to pull off the main road and find the shittiest bar you could and catch the most pathetic man you could and sink your knife into his chest until your rage was gone. But you had a sneaking feeling that just like having Richard make you cum: it wouldn’t help. Plus it would mean you had to clean up after and you had no energy for that.

You drove slowly through the city, and by pure muscle memory, you parked near the diner. You stared out your window, and felt your eyes glaze over as you watched the people walk by. Families, couples, single men and women who were waiting for the right someone to come along. You focused on one couple in particular. They each held a small popcorn container and they laughed; most likely having come from the cinema. You caught the glint of a ring on the woman’s finger, and you felt your anger wane into melancholy. No one every chose you. All those men who claimed they wanted you…the ones who just couldn’t bring themselves to say they loved you…who wouldn’t leave their wives for you…they were so selfish. They really thought they could just get a piece of you and go? Was that what Albert thought? Was he going to leave you too? Carve another hole into your heart? You weren’t sure what hurt more…the fact that you were never someone’s first choice or that maybe you were the reason.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but you did know that your eyes were dry as they started to tear; several minutes of not blinking making them sore. With your heart in your stomach, and head numb, you mindlessly began the way home.

You didn’t even remember turning the car on or pulling into the driveway, but then you were unlocking your door and kicking off your shoes. You didn’t even bother with the lights as you reached behind yourself to unzip your dress as you wandered through your living room-

“Have fun today, kiddo?”

A shiver ran up your spine and your heart lurched. You halted and let your arms hang down by your sides as you turned on the direction of that same face you wished had been the one panting in your ear just a few hours ago.

Albert sat in your arm-chair, relaxed shoulders with his head in his palm and legs spread wide- the crotch of his black pants pulled tight like the arms of his t-shirt. His top hat was still perched on his head and those ridiculous glasses as well.

You felt your heart pull at the sight of him, remembering his voice in your ear weeks ago.

“I did. Too bad you were there, could have been even more fun.” You jabbed at him. It wasn’t like he needed to know how pathetically you needed his attention. You were fairly certain he was well aware.

“Oh I think you had just enough fun, Princess. A bit whoreish don’t you think?” He cocked his head to the side and stared at you like he could see past your clothes.

“Whoreish? If you’re talking about how tight that shirt is for a child entertainer then I have to agree. Maybe shop in the adult section next time.” You crossed your arms.

The older man’s eye twitched, and you swore his mouth did too.

You threw your arms up, “No really, I mean it’s a bit creepy. You entertain kids and kill them, now your taking their clothes too…that’s just-“

“Enough.”

You could feel your muddled wmotions start to come to the surface no matter how hard you tried to remain unfazed, “No, no, C’mon now you started it!” You shot back, “You behave like one too y’know? So what you grind a girl on your leg in a back alley then never talk to her again?”

So much for not letting him know where your head was at; you might as well have just carved your own heart out and tacked it onto your sleeve.

Albert leaned forward onto his knees; his white face paint standing out in the darkness.

“Yeah? You all sour over that huh?” He rasped in faux sympathy.

Asshole.

“If any part of me is sour it’s because you touched it, you old fuck.” You bit out, hands itching to snatch your knife that you had in its sheath between your breasts. It didn’t help that your eyes were starting to prickle.

Al shook his head and tsked you, “Christ you got such a pretty face but you need to shove some fucking soap in that mouth, kid. I’d ask if your daddy raised you like that…but I’m pretty sure we covered his lack of involvement before.” He sneered.

“Yeah you’re right, he’s probably out fucking your mom.” You shot back.

Albert hummed.

“Didn’t think he was into corpse shit. Guess everyone’s got something. Makes sense though with you being his daughter if he’s that fucked up too.” His words stung, but you weren’t about to break down.

You sighed. “Let’s wrap this up grandpa, you need your early bedtime and I need a shower.” You went to move into your bedroom, but Albert shot up out of his seat and was pushing you up against the wall before you could get a proper defensive hold on him; all you managed was to get an arm free.

“We’re finished when I say we’re finished you brat-“

You didn’t wait for him to finish before you quickly jabbed your knee up into his thigh then kicked his knee as best as you could. He winced for a moment, and you laughed aloud at the thought that he probably had knee issues with his age. Albert went to grab your arms and slam them against the wall, but you were faster to slip out of his hold and put your weight into tackling him to the floor. You both landed with a thud, and you were thankful for the lack of light as the window was still open and you were never in the mood to be the brunt of neighbourhood gossip.

He fought to throw you off of him, and you locked a leg around one of his as you straddled him. Albert released your arm and shoulder and shoved the heel of his palm into your chin, and you saw stars. You had only just gotten a grip on his shoulders but your hands went limp when he struck you. Before you could fully recover, Albert already managed to grab you under your armpits and slammed you into the floor beside him before climbing on top of you.

You laughed when your skull collided with the wooden floor, amused by how your vision was doubling.

“What’s your fucking problem?” You slurred a little but worked to shove your arms between your chest and his, pushing on his upper ribs.

But when you sucked in a breath, you were hit with the heady smell of whiskey. The scent made your stomach go all mushy and your muscles went slack when you thought of him opening your gift and nursing a glass.

He was short of breath from it, but he was still holding you down by your collar. “I’m looking at it.” He spat.

At that, you laughed again, though this time it was far less bitter. He was such a hypocrite. You used his distracted state and kicked him hard in the shin, and dug your fingers into the tender membrane between his ribs. He grunted out in pain and released you only for a second, but it was the very second you had been waiting for.

You groaned as you rolled him off of you, and scampered out on his grasp. You went to stand but he lunged across the floor and snatched your ankle, causing you to crash down to the floor; your chin took the brunt of it, and you tasted copper. You had bitten your cheek, not that you felt it very much as adrenaline was fuelling you.

You kicked your leg to losen his grip, but he had you tight. You repeated the action like he was some pest, then opted to just flick him square in the face. You wished you still had your shoes on, but evidently you didn’t need them as he released you and cupped his hands over his nose and mouth.

“Aw I’m sorry did I knock your dentures out, old man?” You snickered out as you wriggled free and scrambled to your feet.

“Fucking brat!” Al spat, blood running from his nose and mouth as he rose up onto his palms and pushed himself up to rush after you as you bolted for the door.

It wasn’t like you had a plan, but it certainly would have been a scene with a crazed older man chasing after a poor young girl on a Saturday evening. The idea of Al getting arrested and locked away, and having to accept your visits just to see him was very appealing. However, you were not ready to confront the idea that during the entire fight you hadn’t reached for your knife. It would have been so easy. But you would have rather had him put away behind bars and glass than have him gone-

Your hand was millimeters from the door handle when your head was yanked back and your scalp burned; Al tugged at the roots of your hair and brought you stumbling back, crashing onto the floor. You stared up at him as you went to sit up, but he put his foot on your chest and pushed you down- a small smirk on his bloody and painted face.

“You just don’t quit do you, Princess?” That playful but threatening lilt in his voice returned, and you groaned when the heel of his shoe dug into your ribs.

“This? Thought we were just warming up grandpa…was hoping to-“ you started, but Albert was swift to step down even harder, pushing the air out of your lungs. You wheezed out a laugh, blood leaking out of the corner of your mouth.

Albert snarled down at you and shifted to kneel on either side on your torso when you heaved yourself up and grabbed your knife out from under your dress and slashed at his thigh. It broke through his jeans and slit the skin, but nothing horrendous. Subconscious or not, you didn’t want to maim him too badly. Another part of you, however, considered swiping at him again…hoping to puncture something important.

The older man hissed, and reflexively smacked you across the head, but you just lunged at him again. His glasses flattered to the floor. Albert was out of breath, and you could tell, but he still snatched your wrists before you were able to knock him off of you. His chest was pressed against yours, and your hips were flush. You both strained against one another until you gathered a wad of saliva and blood on your tongue and you spat it out at his eye. He turned away from you for a moment, but when you thought he might release you again, he growled low in the back of his throat and thrust you down to the floor.

Hard.

This time, when your scull collided with the wood, you felt disconnected from your body, and you didn’t appreciate the weakness.

Your ears rang and you tended your muscles to try and sit up again, but he had you. Albert leaned down over you, and breathed your air. “Stay down…like a good pup.”

You smiled, dazed and glassy eyed like a kid on Christmas.

And he smiled with you.

“Guess that’s two outta three that I got you, huh?” You could feel him speak- the skin on his bottom lip catching yours.

You shrugged raggedly, “I’ve had better. You only won cuz I can barely walk straight after cum-“

He smacked you again. And you laughed.

“What? Don’t like the thought of another man actually making me cum?” You jabbed again. He snarled and smushed your cheeks together with his large hand.

“Listen to me you little bitch, you are nothing. You will always be nothing.” He growled at you, a fleck of his spit landed on your cheek; either that or it was his blood. “You don’t fucking matter. And you’re a pain in my fucking ass, you hear me?”

There was a beat of silence following his words, as you stared at one another. You could practically taste him.

And likewise, he could taste you. Could smell that other man on you like a bloodhound. And he despised it.

“What? Did the Alzheimer’s kick in-“

You started to make a snark remark again, but was stopped short when Alberts teeth collided with yours and his lips covered your mouth. It took two seconds of him kissing you for your defensive walls to tumble down, and you were quick to welcome him between your legs as his rough jeans rubbed against you. A moan slipped out of you and down his throat at you began to grind your hips up against his, and you whined when you felt him return it just as eagerly.

You could feel your stomach do flips as he held you and groped at your hips and neck and hair; Albert’s tongue rolled against yours, not even needing to push into your mouth before you were tasting him yourself.

You pulled him as close as you could as he released your lips and began sucking and kissing down your neck; his face paint left little marks in his wake, but your found yourself hoping you looked a mess.

Covered in him.

“Fuckin’ creep…” you slurred in a daze.

All too soon, he pulled away and your mouth chased his, but Albert simply smirked and pushed you back down onto the floor when you went to sit up.

“Stay down princess, daddy’s not done with you yet.” He rasped- his hat having fallen off ages ago. Face paint all blotchy.

You wanted to cry from him not touching you, but you whined and nodded, hoping it would bring him back down to you faster. Albert smirked, and pulled you tight against the crotch of his pants where his cock was hardening. You could already feel it swell against you; throbbing. Albert brought your thighs up on either side of his hips and held your knees. Then, once he had you locked against him, his smirk fell, and he began to roll his hips into you. The thick outline of him against your core had you salivating and drool leaked from the side of your mouth. He ground against you patiently and hard, watching your every twitch and whine.

Your skin began to warm too fast and you began to grab at him while your thighs tensed.

“Pl-please I’m- please to-touch m-me-I’m- ah! I-pl-da- Ah!” You couldn’t get a full word out without gasping or tripping over it.

He tsked you when you started to babble. “Awe…does the stupid little bitch like that? Feels good?” His mocking tone and faux sympathy made your core tighten around nothing and you flushed with need. You wanted so badly for something to be inside you- fingers, cock, you weren’t picky. You just needed something.

You whined and nodded as you shifted against him, trying to get more friction to cum. But sadly for you, Albert knew what you were lacking; he knew that he wasn’t pressing against you enough. But it only made it so much more satisfying when he finally ran his hands down your thighs dragged your dress up simultaneously. His large, calloused hands groped at your flesh harshly, making it discolour from his grip.

The older man leaned down over you again, and latched his lips to your neck, and bit down. His jaws closed around your skin and punctured you hard enough to bleed or at the very least leave a visible, lasting mark. It knocked the wind out of you. You keened against him and mewled into his ear as he lapped at the deep mark. The sting was throbbing, but it only kindled the ache inside you that begged for him. Albert kissed and sucked at your shoulder, smirking to himself when you grew breathless.

So much fight only to crumble with a few kisses.

I missed you I missed you I missed you…

He continued to kiss over your skin and dress, pulling at the edges to gain more access to your flesh as he went. It wasn’t until he got to your stomach that he grew impatient with your clothes; Albert pulled away with a bothered snarl and without missing a beat, he grabbed the top of your dress at the middle and swiftly tore the fabric in half. You gasped at the violation, and was about to spit fire at him for ruining one of your favourite dresses when he bit down right above your breast and groaned against you, rocking his groin half into your leg and half into the floor. You weaved your fingers through his thick grey hair and nudged him down, hoping to whatever god there was that this man would stop fucking teasing you.

Albert snorted out a hoarse laugh and detached himself from you before leaning up to your mouth again and kissing you so hard your head ground into the floor.

“Needy little psycho whore.” He rumbled against your lips.

You keened and squirmed, but then to your good fortune, he was quick to leave your lips, and he moved down your body eagerly; tearing any left over fabric in his wake. You sat up a little to stare down at him as he kissed right under your belly button, and you noted how his face paint and streaks of his blood was smeared all over your skin. You felt lightheaded , and your cunt clenched at the sight of it.

“Pl-please daddy-“ you breathed out without meaning to. You needed him so badly it physically hurt you.

The older man hummed and tsked you as he slowly leaned down and nipped the top of your panties with his teeth and pulled them away from you until they snapped out of his grip and shocked your skin.

“Fuck off…” you tried to say with some assertion, but it came out as more of a whine.

This time, he placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss over you, leaving a wet mark on your panties. You couldn’t help the buck of your hips when he was so, so close to your clit but just not quite there. Albert smiled up at you wolfishly, and kissed you there again.

“Something you want?” He sneered at you- spit strung between his mouth and your ruined underwear.

“Yes your head on a platter with a million dollars in cash!” You huffed out in frustration. His bloodied teeth flashed in the low light much like a predator, and your remark earned you a slap on the thigh that stung.

“Watch that fucking mouth of yours princess or I’ll have to stuff it.” Al rumbled low in his chest like gravel.

He tortured you like that for ages, waiting to see how long it would take for you to start looking for your knife. It only took a few minutes, and he smiled to himself before finally pressing a warm, open kiss right over your clit, and sucked gently.

You cried out in surprise at the stimulation, and he chuckled against you which only made you whine more. Albert’s large hands gripped your soft hips and pinned them to the floor- immobilising you.

“Awe pretty baby…you should cry more.” He taunted you.

Your eye twitched, and you went to wrap your legs around his neck and flip him under you, but he caught your thighs just in time and laughed against your skin.

“You just don’t stop do you?” He said to himself, shaking his head as he wrenched your legs back down and pinned you better.

A rebuttal began to form in your mind, but it was erased when the older man leaned back down to your soaked panties and licked a long strip from the bottom of your clothed slit to your clit, and you couldn’t contain the loud whine that escaped you. You were throbbing with need, and you knew he could feel it by how cocky he was. You started to imagine your revenge on him and how fun it would be to strap him down to a bed and toy with him until he was begging you-

Albert softened his grip on you ever so slightly, but it was only because he was now dead focused on the sweet treat in his mouth; he knew you weren’t going anywhere. He had you. Al let his spit drench your underwear as he licked and sucked at you until he could clearly see your outline, then he took one thick finger, and caught the edge of your panties and pulled them to the side. The cool air hit you, and you flinched ever so slightly, but a moan caught in your throat when he dove in tenfold. He latched onto your puffy clit and sucked his warm lips around it. Your hips began to rock up into his mouth as he ate you, getting that much needed friction that had your orgasm climbing fast.

As if understanding your every high-pitched whine like a language, Albert now toyed with the idea of stopping and leaving you there. Just to see what you would do. Would you kill him? Go on a rampage? Report him for a crime just to get him locked away in a nice cell? Become a shell of yourself? But if he was honest, hearing you cry out for him so needily was going straight to his groin and ego, and he was thoroughly enjoying both.

He delved his warm tongue inside your cunt, and lapped at your slick that coated his mouth. Your legs began to twitch, and Al quickly returned to gently licking and sucking at your clit. He wanted you to cum. He was proving a point, and fucking you every way he saw fit was one way of doing it.

You could feel your vision starting to blur as your senses overwhelmed you. Your skin felt all hot and that tension in your navel was growing so fast you felt disconnected from your bones. You cried out when you felt two thick fingers slip inside you to the knuckle, and press up against that sensitive spot inside you, and before you could think, your legs were shaking and you let go.

Your hips bucked up against him as you came, riding out the immense pleasure that surged through you as you constricted around his fingers and wet his latched mouth. It didn’t even have time to slip him a snark remarks before you were cumming for him.

It took a few minutes before Albert slowly eased off of you, and watched as you laid there in a dazed lull. You looked so serene and docile. The gap in your aggression was to his advantage as he crawled over you and caged your body with his. You could feel his chest against yours- heavy and expanding as he breathed in excitement.

He had you.

You slowly came back to your body when you heard his belt jingle as he worked it open with one hand. Albert watched you intently as he almost tore his pants open, and palmed himself needily - not able to wait to take himself out. Then, you felt him lean away, and his hands took yours, and you watched lazily as he guided you to the waistband of his underwear.

“C’mon…take daddy out, kiddo.” He rasped, fighting to keep his breathing controlled.

You stared up at him and nodded hazily and slowly groped at his cock as you slipped your hand into his pants and gripped his shaft. The thickness sobered you a little, and made you clench around nothing in anticipation. You didn’t waste anymore time in pulling him free from his pants, and it seemed Al was not about to waste time with removing any more of his clothes before getting inside you.

The older man wrapped a hand around yours and guided you to stroke him, slowly rocking into your touch as the tip weeped unabashedly. You watched the pre-cum dribble down onto your intertwined fingers and you began to salivate.

“Enough.” He snipped and took your hand away before almost collapsing onto you; his forearms bracing him up as his chest crushed you. You could feel him slick the fat tip against your sensitive clit, and you were about to curse at him when he suddenly stuffed it inside your little cunt. Air caught in your throat at the stretch, but Albert didn’t seem to care as he started to rut- pushing and pulling as he forced your body to get accustomed to his cock. Your body flushed and your arms wrapped around his wide shoulders as he bullied his way inside you.

Thoughts began to leave your body as his veiny shaft stroked against your g-spot, and his tummy rubbed your clit. You were helpless to the sudden build up of another orgasm as he squished up against your cervix and rooted himself inside you. It was like he belong there. As he went to pull out, you sobbed into his shoulder, and he halted when he felt your body tighten around him; almost forcing him out as you gripped him like a vice. Overstimulation wracked your body but you couldn’t bring yourself to push at him.

You moaned and babbled in his ear as he slowly started to move again- using your tightness to his greedy advantage.

“Im-I’m- ah! Please- I’m- I can’t- fu-fuck…daddy I can’t-I-“ it was nonsense, and Al swallowed it up as he latched his mouth over yours and fucked it with his tongue down your throat. You cried and whined and shook and clenched, and he didn’t dare stop. The older man released your hips and grabbed at your thighs as he wrenched them up to your chest and pressed them down, forcing out most of the air in your lungs as he mounted you.

And you let him.

“H-hurry daddy-“ you whined in his ear weakly.

He chuckled breathlessly.

“God you’re so fucked in the head princess…” he grunted as he started rabbiting inside you like a man possessed.

You couldn’t talk even if you wanted to. You could only cry out like a bitch in heat. Neither of you cared if your neighbours heard you. To hell with them. You could deal with the disapproving stares in the morning, but you couldn’t deal with it if this old fuck didn’t cum in you at least once that night.

Al pulled away from you to look down at where his cock fucked your body. His fingernails were leaving grooves in your flesh, and you hoped they would last as long as the bruises surly would. You hoped you would hurt more than last time.

He was entranced by the large bulge that formed under your skin as his cock would slip inside you fully- you tummy distending around the girth. You stared up at him, and felt your heart throb at the sight of him.

Al would never get tired of the sight before him. If he was honest, since that alleyway, he was hooked on how you looked when you came. Your sounds, how you shook, how you babbled and grabbed at him. Which was why he felt sick seeing some other man feeling you up.

That memory alone had his energy return with a vengeance.

He hunkered over you as his thrusts became sporadic and harder. His hot breath fanned over your shoulder as he bit into you again, sucking the skin into his mouth as he stuffed himself inside you one more time before you felt your tummy grow warm. Al squished the fat tip of his cock up against your bruised cervix as it throbbed while he came. His thick cum filled your little cunt, flooding it until it was too much, and it started to squeeze out the sides where he plugged you. It dripped down your ass and onto the floor into a puddle under you. Spurt after spurt of cum he filled you.

You felt all tingly and exhausted once he finally relaxed, and his weight settles into you. You were in such a daze, but somehow your mouths found eachother in the dark, and his tongue slipped against yours as you ground against each other.

His point was made. You belonged to him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@ethanhoewke @honeycovered-bandaids @dancingisdangerouss @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @theroadreader2 @lxdyred @eth1calcannibal @ebiemidnightlibrarian @katehawke @blep-bloop @ratpackash @darkvoidz @belladonnaaura @pecter-specter @samhainrain @turtle-boris @abra1dabra

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads CH4 (Homelander x OC)

chapter four: the new you

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: time to look the part, little spider. out with the old, in with the new.

With every job comes the good and the bad.  Up until now, it had been mostly… fine?  Not awful by any stretch, but Benjamin hasn’t had much to complain about.  Again, until now.

He’s been in this office for hours.  Fucking hours.  One would think Stillwell would’ve at least warned him that the two men prattling off marketing and merchandising concepts never took a breath between their eight trillion sentences, but no.  

Not even a smidge.

Good ol’ Seth and Evan…  

Benjamin finally snaps back to attention when the topic shifts for the umpteenth time, though not by the grace of a whiteboard eraser wiping away sloppy diagrams and stick figures.  This time the two jump halfway across the room to a sheeted mannequin that has been begging to be unveiled the entire time.

“And so, obviously, we were thinking that it was time for a fresh image!  Something flashy, something… you.”  Seth– or was it Evan– says with a child-like giddiness. 

“The pros in the design department worked overtime for this one.  You’ll love it!”  Evan– or… Seth, perhaps, chips in, just as eager as his hive-mind counterpart.

“What’s wrong with my suit now?”  Ben asks, voice scratchy from how long he’s sat in silence.  And why the fuck do you guys alternate sentences like that… eesh. 

But there was no reason not to anticipate this.  In fact, the bug could practically smack himself upside the head for not even entertaining the idea.  He was a product now… and he had to remember that.  They’ll change everything about him to better fit their image.  Well, everything he hadn’t been able to protect under his contract.

“Spider-Man,” rings that mother-knows-best voice the bug has come to know all too well.  “There’s nothing wrong with your current,” she pauses for a moment, pursing her lips as if thinking of a way to call him shabby without being too backhanded.  “Homemade suit.”

Yeah… still backhanded.

“We just think you’re deserving of something a little more… special.  After all, you’re in The Seven now.  You deserve to look the part.  Have all the toys, and so on.  Who doesn’t like an upgrade?”

“And just wait til you see what we’ve got for you!” Says one of the duo. The pair take their spot on either side of the mannequin and grab a handful of the cover.

Please don’t suck.  Please, please don’t suck.

Ben’s mind runs to the worst ideas possible.  What if they changed his colors?  What if they pull some bullshit with the mask and it’ll only conceal his face partially?  That’s in the contract– they fucking know better– what if–

The sheet is ripped away faster than he can process it.

This suit of his… It’s always been Benjamin’s second skin.  His armor against the world.  Silly as it was, his suit was a part of him.  An identity, perhaps.

And now a new one stares back at him almost as if it yearns to be chosen. This new skin, this new him.  

Ben rises slowly from the couch to circle it, inspecting every little detail.  The subtle things.  The not so subtle things…

The spider emblem had been enlarged, nearly as long as the whole torso.  The legs cut off where red once met blue– now black– on the sides.  An interesting color choice, and one probably meant to ensure his scheme wasn’t too similar to Homelander’s.  Gray accent lines run through the blackened sections in intricate patterns, weaving a hexagonal texture.

Ben reaches out to touch it despite his own gloves shielding him from sensation.

The new suit’s webbing textures are raised slightly from the body, and the sections are larger too.  It’s less… cluttered this way.  Undeniably easier on the eyes.  His hand slides up to the shoulders where the signature Vought V logo is stamped in a white, leather-like material.  Sure to never fade and certainly never go unnoticed.

Down the arms, paper thin lines of dark red dance sporadically, damn near indistinguishable from the black of the suit.  An oddity catches the bug’s attention.

The same V shape on the shoulders is at the wrists, right where his webs emerge, almost as if to function as funnels.  Something to spare him the design flaw of the unsightly holes in his current suit.

Rounded, friendlier looking lenses stare into his very soul.

He can hear the sound of those two yammering on about… something, but he doesn’t process a word of it.

This is him now.  It’s like an energy emanates from it, begging for a symbiotic relationship.  Benjamin feeds the image and, in return, the image feeds him security.

Whether or not he’ll feel… whole like this remains to be seen, but… it could’ve been so much worse.

“Well,”  Stillwell says abruptly.  “It won’t put itself on.  Bathroom’s right there.” 

Ben steps back as Seth and Evan strip the suit away from the mannequin, all but force it into his hands, and shuffle him into the bathroom.  Hell, they even shut the door behind him as a courtesy.

The process of stripping is still its old painful self.  Indentations of seams on skin, elastic marks, and especially that flattened mask-hair Ben always dreads.  And what a wreck he is in the mirror.  Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, uneven scruff on his jaw that he definitely needed to shave at least two days ago, anxiety-bitten lips…

Christ, man.  Look at you…

But it’s not like he could blame himself.  Between the daily antics of settling in at Vought and being the same ol’ hero at night– which had been strongly discouraged, by the way– Benjamin hasn’t had any time to take care of himself, nor sleep more than the odd half hour here or there.

Is that a fucking pimple??  Eughh…. Wash your as soon as you’re home.  Hell, do it now.

He lets the tap warm up a bit before scrubbing frantically at his face, only half tempted to use whatever antibacterial gunk Stillwell kept in her private bathroom.  At least the water wakes him up a little.

The new suit comes with its own challenges, but is somehow easier to put on.  The material quality is leagues better and it allows for stretching much more willingly.  In fact, it’s damn near completely comfortable… breathable, even.  

The back zipper though… That one would be Benjamin’s enemy until the day he either died or hung up the spandex.  

The mask takes him by surprise when he lifts it.  It has an odd weight to it, not necessarily heavy but definitely not what a mask should weigh.  He flips it inside out and the culprit is a solution to all of his woes.  

Gone are the days of a face shell to make him look a little less ridiculous and keep dental work off his list of injury expenses, now replaced by– judging by pressing his thumbs– thin padding liners full of some variety of what he assumed to be oobleck.  Solid when force was applied, soft when left to settle.  They hit all the sweet spots, too.  Jaw, cheekbones, temples…

One last look in the mirror, and he slips it on.

“What the fu–”

Ben stumbles backward a bit as load screens and transparent windows stack upon one another in his field of view.  Welcome messages, tutorial pop ups– the whole nine yards.  His eyes rake frantically through everything, trying to peer past the overload.  He swats his arms as if to smack the windows away, but they go nowhere.

He shuts his eyes tight, sighing with deep frustration.  One more fucking headache…

That seems to have disappeared the second he reopens them.

Huh…

And then he does a double take.  Just as his brows were, his lenses were arched.  The bug leans over the vanity and gets damn near nose to nose with himself, wiggling his eyebrows, widening and squinting his eyes, watching with fascination and disdain at his now emotive lenses.

He groans.

No more making bitchy faces behind the mask, huh?

Gone were the days where he could roll his eyes and hide his flippant reactions behind the mask. That’s probably exactly why Vought would spend god only knows how much money developing tech like this. Marketing likely decided he needed to be personable, not just another blank face like Noir.

When he finally gets the gumption to exit the bathroom, the two are all but biting at his ankles.  “How is it?” They ask in their nearly creepy unison.

“It’s uh…” Ben starts, wondering exactly what the decorum rules were for conveying a complaint.  “About halfway up my ass.”  Not a lie.  “Can we adjust that later or–”

“Absolutely not!” Chirps one of the two.  “Polls show the ladies love a man in tights, and you’re sure to see an uptick in approval if you flaunt what you’ve got!”

Christ…  

Ben decides not to dignify that with a response.

Stillwell lets loose a brief, pleased chuckle.  “Well gentlemen, a job well done as always.”  She praises, ushering them to the door.  Ben arches a brow at their audible hoots and hollers of celebration as they make their way down the hall.  “Now, Spider-Man, how are you finding things at Vought so far?”

If false sincerity had a smell, she’d be stinking up the room.

“I’m uh… I’m good.”  Ben shuffles, tilting his head from side to side to convey the so-so-ness of his state.  Not that it’s been bad, but it hasn’t necessarily been good.  And how could it be, really?  His whole life was uprooted by the American Jesus himself.  A smooth transition was helpful, but the start was still awful.

“Just good?”  Suddenly a concerned look not unlike a mother tending to her tearful child flickers over her features.  “Has anyone been giving you trouble?”

“No, no– it’s just a lot, y’know?”  

“I understand.  You should know how glad we all are that you came around to the offer.”

Coerced, but sure…

“You were our top pick, after all.” She says with a tilt of the head and a soft smile.

If the vibe wasn’t so damn off-putting, she might actually be kind of sweet.  Benjamin might just buy into that mother dearest tone if it wasn't for that unsettling, opportunistic corporate zombie look in her eyes.

“Now I know you’re already acquainted with Homelander, but it’s certainly about time you met the rest of the team.  Follow me…”

[abitohoney]

On the Edge

AO3 link

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, AMAB Sevika, Trans Sevika, Trans Female Character, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, Teasing, Orgasm Delay, Edging, P-In-V Sex, Hand Jobs, Top Reader, Bottom Sevika, Aftercare, Fluff, Soft Sevika

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: “You wanna come inside me, don’t you?” you purr.

Sevika’s eyes, barely open, peer past her heaving chest and down at you.

“Gotta be careful then and wait until I sit on you again,” you taunt with a coy smile. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin it for yourself after all this teasing.”

OR

It’s your birthday, and Sevika has agreed to let you switch your typical roles. But just how much teasing and edging can Sevika really take?

AN: This is a (belated) birthday gift for a special friend, inspired by a discussion we had a while back, so many of the ideas are also credited to her. 💖

It’s high noon when you find yourself shedding your clothing, getting ready to really enjoy your most prized birthday gift of the day. Not that anyone could really tell the time from where your room lay deep in the lanes of the Undercity. Not even the tiniest beam of light makes its way into your small bedroom window. Doesn’t matter anyway. Your gift requires a little privacy.

Your ‘gift’ sits in the middle of your bedroom- a modest wooden chair just beneath the dim light that hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the person sitting in said chair. Their dark brown skin glistens with a fine sheen of sweat beneath the yellow glow.

Sevika, your long-time girlfriend, sits completely nude from head to toe. Her muscular thighs are spread wide, much like her typical choice of lounging. Only this time, she is forced into that position. Thick, dark red rope binds her ankles to each front chair leg, tied just tight enough to prevent movement, but not so tight as to hurt- too much. That same rope wraps several times around each wrist, keeping them restrained against the wooden armrests. But your favorite part, at least visually, is the rope you’d tied across her chest- a criss-cross pattern that wraps above and below each lovely breast, then around the back of the chair. Perhaps a bit of overkill. She likely can’t- and won’t - be moving, but this is about more than just the restraining. It’s about presentation. It’s about mood. Both of which you’re happy to admit are done perfectly. She looks stunning sitting there, covered in a thick rope the same color as her trusty cape, those beautiful silky black strands of hair framing her face after having removed her hair tie, her entire body sweaty and disheveled. As for the mood- a palpable level of aroused, frustrated, and downright desperate.

You’d spent the past half hour pleasing, teasing, and edging your girlfriend- an agreed-upon gift to you (and perhaps not so secretly her) for your special day. Normally you'd be the one subjected to all the teasing and edging, but with just a little begging, sweet puppy-dog eyes, and a promise to ultimately let her have her release, she agreed.

Now, you decide to turn it up a notch. With all your clothes discarded, you saunter over to Sevika, swaying your hips with each step. Her intense gray eyes drift up from your hips, over the soft curves of your naked breasts, past the sly little upward pull of your lips, and finally land on your eyes.

With a hand on each of her shoulders to steady yourself, you carefully straddle her, staying high enough so as to not make contact with her still fully hardened cock. Taking it into your hand, you line the tip up with your entrance and lock eyes with her. “If you thought my hands and mouth were torture, just wait and see what I can do to you with this,” you purr.

Sevika’s brows furrow and she opens her mouth, ready to fire something snarky no doubt. Whatever it was she had to say dies the second you start to descend.

That delightful stretch threatens to break your composure, but it’s more than a threat to her. Despite her effort to remain cool and stoic, her weakened state leaves her vulnerable to the stimulation. And your wet, warm cunt is by far her favorite form of stimulation. You watch, with satisfaction beyond just the physical drag of her cock, as her face contorts in pleasure. Her furrowed brows soften out, no longer that steep v-shape she so commonly wore. Her eyelids grow heavier and her bare chest presses against yours as she takes in a slow, deep breath while you slide further down her length.

You bite your lip in an attempt to remain in control of your own body. This is just as pleasurable for you as it is for her, but you just can’t show it. That’s not what this is about. It’s about you pleasing her- which, ultimately, is your pleasure.

And then, you bottom out. Your naked thighs fully connect with the tops of hers, and good god is it a blissful feeling. So full. So warm. And it’s apparently more than good for her.

“Fuck, baby girl,” she sighs, releasing the breath she’d been holding. “You feel so good.” Her voice is raspy, even more than usual. You’d clearly gotten her worked up. Maybe a bit too much. You’ll have to be careful if you don't want her cumming too soon.

"Mmm, so do you," you moan while the two of you adjust to the new sensations.

When her eyes start to open, you slowly rise off her, making sure you clench, applying that extra pressure you know drives her to the brink of insanity.

"Fuck," she curses again.

You moan, an exaggerated albeit honest response to the pleasure, and slowly drop down on her again.

You set a slow pace to start, gradually building up speed each time you feel her buck her hips beneath you, until you’re riding her in earnest.

Her eyes drop to your chest, mesmerized by the bouncing of your breasts with each rise and fall of your body over hers.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Ride my cock,” she groans.

You can tell she’s getting close. Her eyes start to lose focus and her smirk falters. But you’re not letting her have it. Not yet. So just as gradually as you built up that speed, you slow down, savoring the way her face contorts. The way she strains through her attempt to chase that release, only to be bound almost entirely still by the red rope you so lovingly wrapped around her- your gift.

And when your speed decreases enough for her to realize it was intentional, you’re met with narrowed eyes and lips curled into a snarl. It all loses its bite though, as the desperation bleeds through. She’s damn near gasping, her breaths hard and ragged. That lovely sheen of sweat that coated her body earlier now collects into little droplets. One slides down along her cheek, following the trail of scars and further illuminating their already present blue glow. Another rolls clear down her neck, along her collarbone, then finally disappears between her heaving breasts.

She looks absolutely stunning. Just perfect.

Your lips easily curl into a smile. Not one of mockery or taunting. Just pure, honest, adoration. Unfortunately, it seems she takes it as the former.

“How long -”

A huff.

“-do you -”

Another huff.

“-plan on -”

The rest of her question dies the moment you speed back, her words dissolving into a low gasp.

You rock your hips with each descent, making that delicious drag that much more pleasurable for both of you.

“Fuck,” she groans.

“Mmm, you feel so good,” you moan.

You quickly work her up to that sweet precipice once again, moaning along with her huffs and groans as skin slaps against skin. And then…

You stop.

The moment you swing one leg off her you can see the panic hit her. Those lovely gray eyes go wide, almost deliriously desperate. And you can see the question lingering behind them as you move to stand between her legs.

Where the hell are you going?

Her eyes follow yours as you slowly drop to kneel between her spread thighs. You run both hands soothingly up and down her muscular thighs, your gaze focused on her throbbing erection. A mixture of precum and your own wetness covers it from base to tip. While one hand remains on her thigh, you move the other to tease fingertips along the length, delighting in how her hips jerk, though not nearly far enough given the restraints.

Unable to get that firm touch she craves, she huffs out a frustrated breath.

Another faint touch, fingers barely dragging along the slick, taut skin. You moan, licking your lips and intently watching her cock twitch.

“Baby, c’mon,” she urges.

What was supposed to sound more commanding, loses nearly all of its edge the moment those words dissolve into something akin to a whine.

Your gaze darts up to her face to find her brows knitted together in dire need, eyes glued to where your fingers now wrap around her cock. Strands of her dark hair cling to the sides of her sweat-covered face. For a moment you almost feel sorry for her, and consider just giving in. But you know she can go longer. And you both know the torture will be so very worth it in the end. When she finally gets that release it will be euphoric.

So you continue to goad her, moaning wantonly as you slowly stroke her.

“You wanna come inside me, don’t you?” you purr.

Sevika’s eyes, barely open, peer past her heaving chest and down at you.

“Gotta be careful then and wait until I sit on you again,” you taunt with a coy smile. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin it for yourself after all this teasing.”

She knows you’re right. It will feel so fucking perfect if she gets to cum inside you. So she fights to stave off that blissful end she’s been chasing for far too long. Her toes curl, brows pinching together in concentration.

It’s a losing battle though, as you continue to pump your hand along her length and moan so obscenely.

You are, in all honesty, starting to question if she can truly make it. Maybe you finally found her breaking point. But she could just speak one word and you’d immediately cease the teasing. She knows the safeword. Yet, she doesn’t speak it.

“Want to cum inside you, baby,” she huffs through gritted teeth.

The wood on the arms of her chair starts to crack and splinter, her death grip threatening to break right through them.

And that’s when you realize she's reached her limit.

So you release her from your hand and swiftly move to straddle her again. Your eyes meet hers and the relief and hope that paints her face makes your heart ache.

She’ll get what she deserves. She’ll get her release. And it will be wonderful for both of you.

You line her up, hovering there for just a moment and taking in the beautiful mess beneath you. Her gaze drops back to her cock, where the head teases through your wet folds. She watches, waits, wills to see what she’s been needing for so fucking long.

And then you sink down.

Ever.

So.

Slowly.

The groan she releases is long, deep, and strained. 

“Oh Sev,” you keen.

One drag along her length.

“I want you to cum inside me.”

Two drags.

“Please cum inside me.”

Three.

“I need to feel it so bad.”

Four.

“Please!”

You drop down one final time and then-

Pure ecstasy.

All that pent-up need and frustration escapes Sevika in a full-body response. Her eyes flutter shut before rolling behind her lids, her head thrown back. The chair creaks and cracks as she pulls hard against every restraint, her hips raising, pushing herself just the slightest bit deeper as she fills you with her release. A long, guttural, and strained groan releases from deep in her chest, varying in volume before finally tapering off into yet another pathetic sound you liken to a whine.

You stay seated on her lap, but grind against her, riding her through that delirious high. Even if you didn’t get your own release, you’re certain, in that moment, you couldn’t have asked for a better gift. She looks utterly transcendent. Lost in her pleasure as it rolls through her. Her body jerks several more times before she finally collapses against the chair, her head lolling to the side.

While you give her time to come down from her high, you make quick work of removing the rope binding her wrists and chest to the chair. The legs will have to wait for later. You don’t want to make any unnecessary movements and cause any overstimulation.

With your arms wrapped loosely over her shoulders, you bury your face against her shoulder and pepper it with tender kisses. Her chest rises and falls against yours, still slick with sweat, but the feeling of her rapid heartbeat is indescribably wonderful, and you know she can feel yours too. Her breathing gradually slows to a more steady pace.

You feel her shift, but before you can lift your head to check on her, you feel her lazily throw her arms around you, holding you close while she continues to recover. You nuzzle further into her and whisper, “That was amazing, Sev. Thank you.”

All she can manage is a quiet hum, but you know she heard you by her hand weakly rubbing circles along your back.

When you feel she’s steady enough, you sit upright and search her face for any signs of unhappiness.

Her lids lay heavy over her eyes- eyes that appear glossed over in post-coital bliss. Her lips are slightly parted, but no sign of strain. She’s simply relaxed, relieved, and in heaven.

So you slowly lift off her, both of you groaning at the stimulation and loss of contact.

“I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay?” you say softly.

She can barely lift her head to nod, but you get the message and bend down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead.

You move quickly, not wanting to leave her alone like that for too long. After grabbing two wet cloths, a glass of water, and a jar of healing balm from the bathroom you make your way back into the bedroom. She’s still in the same position, looking as if she could pass out at any moment.

Janna, what you’d give to capture this moment for eternity. She looks so content and relaxed. Like all her troubles left her body along with her release.

You bring the glass to her mouth and slowly pour, your fingers gently pressed to the underside of her chin as you help her drink. Her glazed-over eyes meet yours, and though she’s unable to speak, her expression alone speaks volumes. She is pleased. She is content. And she adores you.

You sit between her legs and quickly unbind them. Watching her face for any signs of discomfort, you bring the wet cloth to her now softened cock, so very gently wiping it and her thighs clean. She takes it well, only flinching slightly when you touch the tip of her cock.

Then, with the second washcloth, you wipe the rest of her body down, clearing away as much of the sweat as possible before moving to the healing balm.

You gently work the balm into the red, raw skin of her ankles. Again with her wrists. And finally across her chest.

All the while she simply sits there in a daze. Her eyes lazily follow your movements, though you’re not sure she entirely processes them.

After carefully climbing back onto her lap, you take her face in your hands and stroke her cheeks.

She wraps her arms loosely around your waist, her flesh and metal fingers lazily tracing random patterns along the base of your spine. The corner of her mouth curls into a weak smile, one that you naturally mimic.

Hair still clings to her face, and as lovely as you think she looks like that, you know it’s likely to bother her. So you gently comb your fingers through the silky strands, pushing them back away from her face and tucking as much as you can behind her ears.

“How are you feeling?” you ask softly.

“Mmm,” she hums, “Feeling good. Really good.”

Janna, her voice is still so husky.

“Was that too much?”

She slowly shakes her head. “Not at all, baby girl. Was perfect.”

Your smile grows. “Do you need anything else?”

“Just you.”

You’re full-on beaming.

“Want to come lie in bed with me for a while?” you ask hopefully.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Wait one sec,” you say as you climb off her and rush to the dresser. With a fresh pair of boxer briefs in hand you make your way back to kneel in front of her again.

She peers down at you while you hold her boxers out for her to step into, and you swear her cheeks flush at the gesture.

“You know it’s okay to let the people who care about you help you,” you point out with a smile.

She says nothing, just looks away, but still allows you to help her.

Once you’ve got her boxers up past her knees she slowly rises to her feet, and for a moment you think she’s going to topple right over with the way she wobbles.

Perhaps that had been a little too much for her.

She manages to steady herself and allows you to take her hand in your own to guide her to your bed. She lazily crawls onto the mattress before collapsing and rolling onto her back.

You try, but fail, to hide the little smile that brings to your face. She doesn’t appear to mind your amusement over her fucked out state, evident by how she still wears her own crooked little smile and holds her arm out for you. Happy to accept her silent invitation, you crawl onto the bed and snuggle up against her side, resting your head on her shoulder.

She wraps her arm around you, pulling you closer while she presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck, baby,” she sighs, “That was really something else.”

Tilting your head back, you press a kiss to her jaw.

“Guess it was an early birthday gift for you too,” you say with a little laugh.

She strokes your side with her fingertips, humming in agreement.

“Baby, we don’t gotta wait until anyone’s birthday to do that again. You just say the word.”

You full-on giggle at that. Her uncharacteristically drunken ramblings are certainly not a part of this gift you were expecting.

She chuckles lightly at your contagious, sweet laughter, her body shaking against yours.

“Best. Birthday. Gift. Ever.” Though you speak the words with a laugh, you truly do mean it nonetheless.

“For the best girl ever,” she adds with a gentle squeeze of your hip.

Janna, she’s so fucking sweet and cute when she’s fucked out.

“My muscles hurt,” she drawls, “You got me worked up.”

You beam with pride.

“Thought a few times you were really gonna leave me hanging, but you did so good,” she continues.

You tilt your head back again to peer up at her as she speaks. She’s staring up at the ceiling, brows furrowed slightly as if in deep thought.

So damn cute.

“That little teasing you did- making me wait for you to sit on my lap again- never knew you had that in you. Was worth the wait too. Getting to feel you wrap around me like that, and finally fill you up.” She turns to gaze down at you, her smirk more akin to her typical cocky one. “As soon as I recover, I wanna fuck you again. Make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

She gets that look in her eye- the one where her pupils dilate a bit more- and heat immediately spreads throughout your body.

“And then I’m gonna take real good care of you, the way you did me. Sound good?”

“Very,” you reply with a smile.

“But first, I just wanna lie here with you for a while.”

“Gladly.”

You snuggle up to her more, nuzzling into her neck and breathing in the calming scent of her. It’s a mix of sweat, smoke, and spices- uniquely her, and so very perfect.

She presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Happy birthday, baby girl.”

[spookypete-94]

Eight Lines (part 2)

Part 1

Part 2 of Ghost learning that reader tattooed herself in their own way for him. MNDI/NSFW: Oral (female receiving) Fingering, P in V, unprotected sex, lots of teasing to reader. First time actually writing smut and publishing it, so I'm hoping for the best here lol. So I'm sure there is more here that I did not list.

Ghost Fem!reader

He had tugged her clothes off after he had pushed her to the floor, tugging with conviction to get them removed quickly. Finally, his mouth attached it to her skin.

Starting at her calves, leaving quick kisses on each one while he moved up to her thighs. Love bites left behind in his wake as he went. Y/N withered in his grasp, whining as he got higher and higher before finally reaching the prize in between her legs. She gasped feeling his tongue on her, pushing her lips and petals to the side to find her clit.

"So happy you're home," she hummed head rolling back pushing herself off her elbows and laying with her back flat on the floor.

"Is home me here? Between your legs?" He asked cheekily before resuming, his intense eyes on her squirming form. She moaned before she could answer, her pussy throbbing now.

"Home is you and I together, Simon." her voice is an airy purr. She watched as his gaze turned from a joking smile to serious, preparing to praise her from her answer with his tongue. He pulled her body down roughly to him, back burning from the carpet, but honestly, she could care less right now. His strong arms wrapped around her legs and pushed down on her abdomen so she couldn't wiggle away from him. This was it, The hunter ensnaring his prey, she thought. Her core was feeling warm from the flood of arousal at her inner monologue. Her blood was rushing through her, heart pounding harder as she saw the white toothy grin in the dark. There was no escape.

Fuck. Was all she could think, knowing she was head over heels for this man.

He ebbed and flowed with her body, pushing into hers with his mouth and pulling back when her fingers slotted into his hair, pushing him closer into her.

"You're teasing me," she groaned the sensation of almost cuming and going with his work. He chuckled. "Catchin' on now, love." He finally slipped a finger in, curling it up into her. Simon's eyes never left her body as it arched from the sensation. Pushing his finger up and down within her, watching how it made her body jolt, specifically how her breasts bounced when he did.

"Siiiimonnn." she hissed greedily, making him slip in another finger.

"Can't tell me what you need, love?" Fingers still now. That taunting smile he held that pulled on her heart strings, making her heart flutter.

"You know what I need," she said propping up on her elbows to look at him again.

"Need to hear it." He said, twitching his fingers once more inside her, making Y/N gasp.

"Wanna cum, Simon." she begged.

"Yeah?" He sounded almost condescending. The two digits finally work in synchronization with each other.

"Please," she whimpered, pushing herself down into them. He honored her request, slipping his tongue in and out of her folds in unity with his fingers, creating a pattern and rhythm for her. At last, her prolonged climax arrived, making her body go rigid and stop as if an unseen force had suddenly crashed into her. Her pussy squeezed his fingers and would quickly release them. Her soul felt like it was leaving her body from lack of control.

"There you, go. Good girl." His voice grumbled as he helped her through it, slowing down as he did. Y/N fought to catch her breath. It always amazed her at how effective he was at sex. He pleased her so well but always kept her on her toes about it. His lips on the back of her hand over the area that had just been tattooed a few hours ago kissing her gently is what pulled her back to the moment.

" "S'all mine." His hands roaming up her body and to her face where he kissed her slowly. The same tongue that had kissed her apex running in and out of her mouth, giving her a taste of her sweet self.

He positioned himself between her legs, lining himself up as he did.

"Ready?" Asking for her approval to continue.

"Please," she said once more, desperation in her voice to feel him fill her. Legs wrapped around his torso, encouraging him to continue.

Without slowing down, no hesitation, he pushed into her. Filling her completely to the hilt of her grotto. The feeling to her undeniably one of the best on the planet, making her see stars of the others. She keened, leaning forward, head in his chest, and resting her hands on the back of his neck. Suddenly, her hand of the thin black lines rested at the bottom of his chin, reminding her and making her smile as she glanced up to his eyes. Simon again chuckled, leaning down and kissing her once more before lovingly biting her neck once more.

"Clever, clever girl. And she's all mine," before his thrusting became harder. Moans left her lips as if she was singing him a song to his uptrend. Hands gripped around her legs, resting at her hips squeezing with his fingers. Lifting her up to pound into her deeper, she gasped, shocked at how damn good it felt.

A loud Ooooo, left her mouth appraising him for his actions.

"Like that?" His voice baiting her to answer.

"So fucking much," she said through gritted teeth. Unable to control herself, she wrapped her legs tighter on his body grinding herself down onto him for better friction. Once more, another orgasm washed over her, making her clench and squeeze around him. Her hands gripped his forearms, wanting him to speed up and go harder. Simon was so informed at reading her body, he understood her silent request and fucked her harder through her orgasm.

Finally, his hot white release spilled into her. His body slowed, and hot breaths from him panting spilled across her skin.

"I love you," she said faintly, hand ghosting across his face.

"I know you do," he said, lifting his hand up and kissing it once more. The sting of him kissing her fresh tattoo didn't even cross her mind. Her brain was still feeling the effect of his results.

"I love you too, my clever girl," he said, picking her up and laying her in her bed, gathering one of their scattered articles of clothing to clean up the sticky mess on her thighs.

She didn't expect an answer. She knew he loved her, but it had never been said before. Catching one of his arms, she pulled him back to her. Kissing him again before releasing him. Smiling as she laid back into the bed and watched his naked form lay next to her.

"Let me see it again." He said, grasping her marked hand. Fingers ran up and down each line, smiling as he did.

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

[brunchable]

Thurber's Model — PT. 2 || William Thurber × F!Reader

Word Count: 7.1K Genre: Romance, Secrecy, Sneaking Around, Off-Limits Reader, Overwhelming Attraction Warning: Explicit. 18+ Only. unprotected p+v sex. Parings: William Thurber x F!Reader Summary: It took you about a week to learn the pattern of your parent's movements during the night and when you finally did, you sneak out of your family Manor to meet William in his dormitory. A/N: This is for the precious @classicrebound, I know this took A WHILE but I hope you Ben Barnes fans enjoy.

Part 1

William had his eyes on you the whole time. He wasn't even listening to the compliments he was receiving for his artworks anymore. Was it bad that he wanted you even more now that he knew you were out of his league?

As discreetly as possible, you looked down at the piece of parchment in your hand. You groaned inwardly. On the paper clearly written was the name of William Thurber.

This could not be happening…….

William has made a reputation for himself, known for his family's bankruptcy. He earned a scholarship at Miskatonic with his extreme talent at portrait painting. Though your father admits that Will was born to be an artist, he specifically warned you to stay away from men like him, stating the idiom, "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." You would have never guessed that he was below elite society when he wore such sophisticated suits and styled himself rather nicely.

William waited until your parents, Mr. Dixon and Joe were ahead of him and you before he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you towards the small hallway behind the grand staircase. It was dark and, most importantly, private.

“Get your hands off me!” you demanded.

“We need to talk,” he said through clenched teeth.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“I beg to differ.” He forced himself to ignore you soft warm body pressed up against his.

You tried to push past him, but he wasn’t having that. He gently pushed you back against the wall.

“William, let me go! They’ll notice our absence.” you look up to his devilishly handsome features, "And I do not wish to speak with you. Y-you tricked me! You knew my father was Dr. Reid didn't you?!"

“No! I did not. He was the last person I'd thought about being your father—"

You cut him off, averting your eyes, afraid that you might end up kissing him instead, "This was just a mistake, one better off forgotten.”

A mistake? The most passionate night of his life was a mistake? Your first time and that’s what you thought?

That grated on him in the worst way. “Is that what you think? Is it because you now know who I am? The son of a ruined man—”

“No, of course not! I am not that shallow. But if my father finds out about this, he will have you expelled.”

"The only way he'll find out is if you tell him what we did, right now." His eyes raked all over your face, "Or if we get caught."

God, his scent is so hypnotising, what is this man made of? You thought to yourself. Clearly he already made the conclusion that you'll be meeting each other again. He wasn’t wrong. The thought of an escapade just like Romeo and Juliet sent thrills down your spine. You might as well live the life of your fantasies before you leave the country in a few weeks time.

“One week.”

William's brows became knitted together in confusion,“What do you mean?”

“Give me one week. I'm Thurber's model, aren't I?” You tilt your head, your hand cupping one side of his face, your thumb brushing his soft lips, "I have plans already in place. You gave me your address, I know where you live. Wait for me."

A small smile twitched on the corner of William's lips and leaned in for a kiss but you released his cheek and stepped back into the foyer after making sure that it was empty. “Until we meet again, William.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

One week later.

You looked over at the grandfather clock clock with much eagerness. You couldn't wait for the time to come when you could sneak out of the house. 09:59 was the time.

It took a long time to figure out your parent's routine, and even longer to suck up the courage to sneak out. You had to sneak out though. You yearned for the risk and for the thrill of rebelling against your parents.

Of course, that freedom would be short-lived. You could only stay outside until 2:00 in the morning at most. Before 2:30, your father always wakes up to get a drink of milk. Usually, he won't check in on you. It's when your mother gets up at 2:40 to put away your father's milk and clean his mess that you have to worry about. She always checks on John and you before she returns to bed.

You watched the clock intently, every tick and every tock of the hand. You lay in bed in your brother's clothing. The ones you sneakily stole from the backyard after the maids left it in the sun for it to dry. Underneath it all you wore your nightgown, so that when you come back, all you have to do is hide your brother's clothes in your wardrobe and jump back into bed.

Moonlight streamed through your clear, glass window that was opened, just a crack, and spilled onto the wooden floorboards below.

Almost there. You thought to yourself, almost there. Then, the clock's hand ticked to 10:00, in an instant, sat up in your bed, your gaze wildly darting from one corner to another throughout your entire room and carefully, quietly, turned, and slipped out from under your covers and off the side of your bed. Your bare feet were soft on the dusty floorboards, and you tip-toed over to the balcony doors. Your palms were sweaty, and your breathing came in hard and rapid gulps.

You inhaled a deep, long breath, and relaxed to the sweet scent of home. Before you started to ever so slowly open the squeaky doors to your balcony, you quickly turned back around. In your excitement to get away you had forgotten to wear a sweater and shoes. It was the middle of December out there, and you'd be stupid to not wear more clothing. After throwing on the sweater and wearing your brother's loafers—which you stuffed with a handkerchief since it's too big on you—you returned to your task of climbing down the balcony and through the lattice covered with vines.

You heard a shuffling sound in your parents' bedroom, but you dismissed it and decided it was the family dog, Otto. You landed softly in the snow then you turned and ran full blast out the gates. Freedom at last.

It was freezing outside, even more cold than you imagined it would be. The wind blew hard and seared through your sweater as though it was nothing. The snow added to the cold weather. As you ran through it, you got bits of snow inside your loafers where it would melt and freeze your toes.

You slowed your run to a steady jog and crossed your arms as you did so. You shivered and huffed and you were sure that your face was flushed and red. When you woke up in the morning you would probably have a cold but you didn't care. You needed to see William. Even for an hour and a half. Any amount of time would do.

As you walked the empty streets, you tucked your long hair underneath your brother's flat cap. You were disguising yourself as a bloke because there was no way on earth would they allow in a lady inside the men's dorm where William lived.

You arrived at the block of red bricked dorm, some of the windows still had their lights on as you observed from afar. You dug the piece of parchment to make sure you were at the right place. The laughter of a group of boys headed towards the dorm caught your attention.

By the luck of the Irish. You thought to yourself because William was one of them. You scurried your way across the road and discreetly joined the group as they entered their dorm. They were either too drunk to notice that there was one additional person with them or you just did not have presence. You stayed closely behind William's tall structure and followed him as they dispersed to go to their own rooms.

You lowered your cap and kept your gaze low as you followed Will up the wooden staircase. Both of you made it up to the second floor until William grabbed you by the arm and slammed you against the wall, "What business do you have sneaking in here boy?"

You tilt your head up and meet with his hardened eyes which softened as soon as he realised who you were, "(Y/N)?"

"Shh." You hushed him, pressing your slender finger over his lips. William scanned the area, making sure it was empty before he practically dragged you up one more level where his room was located on the third floor.

He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. It's been over a week since he last saw you and thought that you were never going to show yourself again. William couldn’t stop thinking about you, there were nights where he couldn't sleep because he needed to know where you've been. He didn't expect you to dress yourself as a man and have the courage to go inside his dorm.

William shoved you into his room, scanning the hallways left to right once more for safety measures that no one saw both of you. He shut the door and locked it before turning around to find you, now with your hair down and slightly messed from being tucked from underneath the cap. God, you looked immaculate even in men’s clothing.

You expected him to have a messy room, it wasn't a surprise since you haven't met an artist who was neat and tidy. Your father certainly wasn’t, hence why your mother always cleans up after him.

"You have until one in the morning to stare at me, Thurber." You smiled softly at him. One that got his heart skipping a beat.

"Do you have any idea how much I looked forward to this day?" he asked, his lips kicking up into a sensual smile as he moved closer to you until there was barely an inch of space between you, "You probably kept me waiting on purpose." he said as he leaned down and brushed his lips tenderly against yours.

Your breath hitched, wanting to capture those lips. You leaned forward to kiss him but he retreated with a teasing smirk on his lips. Your stomach dropped as you watched him eagerly while he grabbed a sketchbook on his desk as well as a pencil case, "You can take the space on my bed."

“Like this?” You played innocent all the while staring at him innocently as you unbuttoned the dress shirt top to bottom painfully slow, revealing your sheer lace nightgown that was tucked under your slacks.

If you weren't too busy removing your top clothing, you would've noticed the clenching of William's jaw as well as the hard bobbing of his Adam's apple as you stood in front of him with nothing underneath that damned nightgown. His dark obs followed you as you sat on his bed, in a way where you flaunt your curves. You gathered your hair to one side, revealing your neck and collar bone to William before smiling sweetly at him.

Blood rushed throughout his body, particularly to the place where he didn’t want it to go because how was he supposed to focus when the shape of his shaft was squeezed up against his slacks, he was aware that you took note of that when your eyes flickered at the outline of his length behind the fabric.

"Are you comfortable like that? You can't move for a while, you know." William cleared his throat and shifted on his seat.

"I'm aware and I'm comfortable." You quickly replied.

Will jerked his head, "Alright."

He starts to sketch the outline of your body, eyes flicking back and forth trying his best to focus, but his cock wholeheartedly disagrees with the way it’s pulsing in his slacks. He can already feel the precum leaking into his briefs and William shifts uncomfortably at the thought that he's in this confined space with you getting harder by the second.

The movement must catch your attention because you look towards him and then down at my lap. “What’s wrong, William?” You asked as if fondling his name.

“Stop it. Don't talk.”

"But I want to talk, you don't want your model falling asleep now would you?" You tell him.

William pauses and notes that your thighs are pressed together, "You have a problem, (Y/N)?"

“Yes, you’re the problem.” A deep blush bloomed across your body, and William wanted to trace its path with his tongue, mark you with his teeth and touch. Proclaim to the world who you belonged to, who you should belong to.

A growl leaves his throat as he fights aside the thought of pouncing onto you on that bed, "Let's talk about something else."

"What do you want to talk about? Mister Thurber?" You blink innocently as you fondle his name one more.

“We cannot tell a soul about anything that happens tonight.”

“Never,” you whisper, “Whatever happens…stays between you and me.”

“Yes.” His eyes are wild with fire and you have a feeling that he'll be a different type of man with you tonight, “I think if you asked me, I would do just about anything you wanted at this point.”

“So…kiss me,” you command, tilting your chin upwards and staring into his eyes. “Press your lips to mine and kiss me like you mean it. Like I’m all that matters to you.”

“You are all that matters to me, (Y/N).”

“Prove it.”

"My art shall prove it for you. Now kindly stop trying to tempt, you little minx." William cracks a short teasing laugh as he holds his opened notebook in front of you like a shield. In minutes he got engrossed in his sketch work.

You elicit a shy smile and try to even out your breaths as Will sketches you—but suddenly a thought too tempting not to ask entered your train of thought.

"William?" You cooed sweetly, trying your best not to move a muscle.

"Hm?" His deep silky voice hummed.

"Do you always draw your models like this?" You asked in a heartbeat. The thought of him doing this to other ladies made your stomach turn and it wasn’t the nicest of ways.

The silence was loud when he didn't answer straight away. Only the friction between paper and pencil could be heard.

". . .No, just you." You notice Will licks his teeth as he grinned and you wish you could squeeze your eyes shut at this moment in attempts to calm yourself down. You feel like you're ready to combust, and William is making it worse.

Did he feel it, the electric current running between us? Or was it only in my imagination?

You observed him closely. You really liked his short black hair and the way that his dark brown eyes twinkled when he smiled. He was also handsome, you decided, not really knowing why that mattered, but it did.

William was trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but he can’t deny the desire he had to reach out and touch you. His eyes are scrolling slowly from your neck all the way down to your feet. Everywhere his eyes focus, and you can feel it. His gaze lingered on you for a second before he looked away as if he was searching for a hint as to what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.

William's eyes dipped to your breasts as his hands kept sketching away. You followed his gaze and noticed for the first time just how thin your nightgown was. Your nipples were so hard they showed clearly through the two layers of flimsy material. His molten gaze pinned you in place, erasing your earlier chill and leaving a deep, fiery ache in its wake. Your heart thudded so hard against your ribcage you half expected it to leap out of your chest and into his arms.

As the wind howled outside, the soft creaking of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet mingled with the sounds of both your breaths—yours shallow, William's deep and even.

“Are you holding up alright?” His voice was full of gravel, dark and rough.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but you managed a small nod.

The heaviness of the air caressed you like a bold lover’s touch, and you knew, deep in your gut, you stood on a dangerous precipice. The slightest movement from you, and you would fall. The question was whether you wanted to save yourself, or if the pleasure would be worth the eventual pain.

You glanced at the clock, it was just past midnight. William glanced at his wrist watch and put down his notebook and pencil, "Is it almost time already?"

"Yes, unfortunately, are you almost finished?"

"Far from finished, I want to get every detail." William rose from his seat and sat down on the space next to you. William's touch skimmed down your neck and over the curve of your shoulder. You shivered, your skin blossoming with a thousand more goosebumps.

Oh, God. Every ounce of oxygen disappeared from your lungs. The fact that the warm light of candles was the only thing that illuminated the room didn't help.

“You should go home, I'll walk you back.”

You shook your head. “Take me, William. I will leave in a few weeks. I don't know when I'll be back. Take me.” You whispered, "Make me yours."

You know you said you didn't want to be any man’s property, but William. . . You just knew he wouldn't treat you that way. He would treat you as an equal.

William groaned, and with that one sound, you knew he’d made his choice. Breathe. Even when there was no oxygen, no air, nothing but him. Breathe.

He dipped his head, but instead of kissing your mouth, he kissed the hollow of your throat. It was so soft it was more a whisper of breath than a kiss, but it was enough to make your knees weaken.

You were a lightning rod, and William was the strike that lit you up from the inside out. You closed your eyes and stifled a moan as he dragged his mouth up your neck, inch by inch. Just as the lazy possessiveness of his touch lulled you into a semi-stupor, he yanked you toward him with one hand and sank his teeth into the curve between your neck and shoulder. Hard. Almost as hard as the thick arousal pressing against your stomach and causing your core to throb with need. William's other hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your surprised yelp.

“Tell me.” His voice lowered. “What would your father think about this?”

He remained still, his muscles coiled with tension. He couldn’t claim you the way he wanted outside these walls, but right here, right now, when it was just the two of you? He was going to take you until you were both utterly ruined.

“He'll be everything but happy—but I don’t care. I want to be selfish for once. I want to be with you.”

“You want to be with me even though you're not supposed to?” William hissed out a breath and released your throat, only to curl his hand around the back of your neck. He yanked you to him again, crushing your mouth to his, and your world imploded. Tongues, teeth, hands.

You devoured each other like the world would end and this was our last chance to feel something. Perhaps it was. But you wouldn’t think about that now, not when your bodies pressed so tight against each other you might as well be one, and you were falling, falling into an abyss you never wanted to get out of.

Your sister was right. You could tell everything from a kiss.

You tugged on William's hair, desperate for more. More of his touch, his taste, his scent. You wanted to fill every inch of your soul with this man. He drew your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. You gasped, so aroused you could feel your wetness slicking your thighs.

He leaves a wet open-mouthed kiss just at the base of your collarbone before lowering his mouth ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to taste your skin and he traces your bare skin delicately as you mewl beneath him.

“Quiet,” he rasped. “Or someone will hear.”

He swept his palm up your inner thigh to your core and let out a low groan when he discovered how wet you were. The room wasn’t that big, but the anticipation made it seem endless. You glimpsed yourself in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall, and your skin burned at the sight: He fisted your hair with one hand and used the other to unbuckle his pants. His cock sprung out, thick and hard, the swollen head dripping with pre-cum.

God, I needed to taste him. No one had ever turned you on as much as he did. Every word, every touch, every glance. You wanted it all. You scooted out of the bed and knelt in front of him. You stared at him with pleading eyes. William hadn’t finished nodding before you took him in my mouth, savouring his groans and the way he pulled your hair as you eagerly licked and sucked.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” he grunted, pushing his cock deeper until it hit the back of your throat. You spluttered, your eyes watering from the sheer size of him.

You moaned out an unintelligible response. Your hand drifted between your legs, but you didn’t make contact before he yanked you up and captured your mouth in a hard, starving kiss. He has waited for this moment. You could taste it on his tongue, feel it in the roughness of his hands as he squeezed your ass and helped you move until you were straddling his lap.

When he was younger he hadn't cared and never bothered trying, going from one woman to the next had made little difference to him. Over the years, things changed, he'd changed and he wanted more in his life, but no matter what he did nothing changed. He'd dated some wonderful women that would make any other man drop to his knees and thank god that he was alive, but not him.

He hadn't been able to return their feelings and it just about killed him when he couldn't force himself to love them. He could easily think of five of his past lovers that would have probably given him a good life as they grew old together, but he hadn't felt anything for them. Hell, he couldn't even get it up for them without thinking about the woman currently running her fingers through his hair as you urged him to continue with soft little moans that had his cock jerking in appreciation.

This was the woman that his body craved day and night and it would accept no substitutes. It was something that he'd have to worry about, but later. Right now he was going to enjoy the freedom to touch you. Whatever happened later he'd deal with it. Right now, nothing else mattered but you, the woman moaning his name.

"Stop," you said, panting hard as you tried to catch your breath.

Stopping was the last thing that he wanted to do, but he did. He wasn't an asshole and would never force a woman to do anything that she didn't want. It was a struggle, but he somehow managed to pull away from you.

As soon as he made a move and made sure that you were okay, he found himself shoved down onto his back. By the time the movement registered in his mind, you were already climbing over him and gripping his cock by the base as your pert little ass wiggled above his face. He didn't waste any time in raising his face to continue lapping at your slit as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you still.

"So much better," you said in a throaty whisper as you stroked his cock curiously. When you ran your tongue from the head to the base, his hips jerked up in response and when you wrapped your lips around the tip and lightly suckled, he swore that he saw God.

As his head hit the bed he brought you down with him, too greedy for you to allow even a second of separation. Your hard nipples brushed against his stomach, back and forth as you moved your mouth over his cock, taking it as far as your naturally talented mouth would allow while you rode his tongue.

He gripped your ass, restraining some of your movements so that he could slide his tongue in and out of your core to mimic what you were doing to his cock. He ran his tongue slowly between your slit, loving the moan you released around his cock. What you were doing to him felt fucking fantastic, but what he was doing to you was life altering. As you both took your time licking, suckling and nibbling, the only sounds that could be heard in his room were moans, groans and whispered pleads never to stop.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

A loud cry escaped your lips as you struggled to continue giving him pleasure, but you couldn't. You just couldn't take it any longer.

With another strangled cry, you released him from your mouth and was forced to rest your head on his hip less than an inch from the large erection that you'd been worshipping only seconds earlier. Your body tightened as your back bowed, seconds away from what you already knew would be a powerful orgasm.

You bit your lip as you pleaded with your body to hurry before he stopped. He hadn't yet, but in a few seconds he would realise that you'd stopped pleasuring him and he would demand that you continue. Men could be selfish jerks, you thought as you licked your lips hungrily.

Just when you thought that he was finally going to stop, he didn't. Oh no, not even close. His arms tightened around you, holding you securely against him as he devoured you and there really was no other way to describe what the man was doing to you. It felt good, so good……too good.

You tried to pull away, but the damn man refused to give you an inch. Your good hand clenched into a fist, gripping the soft comforter in a death grip as a muffled scream of pleasure like nothing you'd ever heard before ripped from your throat, taking your breath away. The surge of pleasure that rocked your body left you boneless and barely able to softly cry "Stop" as William continued, making your body prepare for another orgasm that would no doubt kill you.

"Shhh, it's okay," William said soothingly as he pulled away and gently rolled you off and onto your back where you lay panting as your overstimulated mind tried to figure out what just happened.

He gently brushed your hair out of your face as he pressed a tender kiss against your lips all while the proof that the man hadn't found any relief pressed against your hip.

"You okay?" he asked, giving you another one of those tender kisses that you were really starting to like.

"Mmmmhmmm," you sighed happily as you found yourself leaning in and kissing him. Right now, you couldn't think past how good he made you feel, how much you wanted him, needed him and suddenly nothing else mattered but you and him.

William growled in approval as he returned your kisses and his cock brushed against your sensitive skin. You reached between you as both of you took your time kissing and when you found what you were looking for, you didn't hesitate in running your hand over it. You couldn't imagine enjoying the way a man felt in your hands like this before. The hot, silky skin that covered the large erection felt incredible and you realised as you took your time running your hand over him that you weren't in a rush to finish this.

You were finding your aching all over for him. It shouldn't be possible, especially not after the incredible orgasms that he'd just given you, but you couldn't help it. The sexy little growls he made every time your hand skimmed over the large head had you shifting your legs as you tried to ignore the need growing inside of you until you couldn't ignore it any longer.

You were both breathing hard, the kiss becoming more aggressive as William reached between you and cupped you between your legs, careful not to get in the way of what you were doing for him. You tried to be good, tried to stay still, but when he ran one long, thick finger between your folds you were lost. You shifted your legs, desperate to give him more access. He growled approvingly as he slid his finger inside of you, matching the way you were moving your hand over him.

Unable to wait another minute, you released him and hooked your leg over his hip. With a gentle nudge, you had him turning over onto his back. He removed his hand from between your legs so that he could wrap his arms around you and take you with him, which was more than fine with you. Better than fine actually.

You shifted back, rolling your hips with the movement. When you slid over his erection you both groaned long and loud and when you moved to do it again, the tip of his erection came to rest at your core.

"Are you sure?" William asked, against your mouth.

"Yes," you said in a harsh whisper as you pushed back, taking the tip inside of you. His loud groan encouraged you to take more, but the problem was that he was a bit bigger from what you remember, but you didn't allow that to discourage you. You wanted this man and you were going to make damn sure that you had him.

A startled gasp escaped your lips as William suddenly thrust, filling you halfway. In the next second you found yourself on your back and William pulling out only to thrust back in, filling you all the way. As you lay there, digging your nails into his back as he stretched you a little too much, you were torn between screaming in frustration and screaming at him to move. You rolled him back over until you found yourself splayed on top of him.

"It's all yours, princess, but you gotta move before I lose my fucking mind," he groaned softly against your lips as his hands moved up to cup your face while he kissed you.

It took you a few seconds to realise what he'd said and done and when you did, you couldn't help but release a satisfied moan as you tentatively rolled your hips. His answering groan was all the encouragement that you needed to continue. You might not be experienced in this position, but you were more than willing to keep doing it until you got it right, you decided with a throaty groan as William slid one hand between them and cupped your breast as the other one moved down your back and palmed your ass as you rode him.

"Don't stop, (Y/N)," he said on a groan as he moved his mouth to your neck just as you registered his hand leaving your bottom and moving up your body to palm your other breast.

"Or what?" You asked breathlessly as you picked up the pace, taking him deeper and harder each time.

"I'll make you forget how to walk and we both know you like your walks." he promised tightly as he moved his mouth back to yours, kissing you and sending you over the edge.

You felt him grow inside of you and if Will hadn't suddenly released your breasts to cup your face and keep your mouth right where it was, you probably would have screamed in pleasure, well, screamed louder. He felt so good, sliding in and out of you as the large velvety head rubbed against you in just the right way.

You tried to make it last longer, but the second that you heard your name leave his lips in a strangled growl, you lost it. A violent orgasm tore through you, leaving you breathless and unable to so much as move as pleasure assaulted your body. You never broke away from William's mouth, somehow knowing that it wouldn't be as good without this connection. Everything about this moment felt perfect, felt right. You couldn't explain it, didn't want to look too deeply into it and wreck this moment.

Long after your bodies were sated, you lay on top of him, kissing him leisurely as you enjoyed the way that he held you. For several minutes you allowed him to hold you, comfort you and make you feel wanted, loved and cherished, but all too soon you realised that you didn't have an excuse to remain in his arms.

"Oh dear, look at the time. I must go." You hopped out of William's arms and hastily plucked your brother's stolen clothes from the floor and began wearing them.

"Allow me to walk you home." William sat up from his bed dressed himself as well.

"Oh no, no need, dearest William. I can walk myself home." You tucked your already buttoned up dress shirt in your pants—until William took you by the chin and tilted your head up.

"I must. If anything happens to you, I won't be able to forgive myself."

You felt your cheeks heat up, "You're too sweet." You placed your palm over his cheek, "This isn't a scheme to figure out where I live now, is it?" You teased him.

"You have me all figured out."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

William accompanied you all the way to your father's mansion. Though you were dressed as a man, one could never be complacent. Sometimes a drunkard walks the street and picks on innocent passersby for a fight.

“What are your plans later on in the morning?” William asks.

You cleared your throat before you answered. “I thought I’d go for a walk in the park if it’s a beautiful day.”

“Wouldn't it be far too cold for a walk?” he asks.

"Yes but as long as there isn't a breeze that would take me away, you can get used to the temperature." You shrugged, "I also like to watch kids have a snowball fight, it reminds me of my childhood."

"I wish I could join you, during your walks."

"Well? Why don't you? Father introduced us to each other and we could say we get along well. . .maybe too well." You laughed sheepishly and looked away from William.

There she is again with that charming laugh. How does one stay away from her when her whole being just pulls you in? William thought to himself all the while laughing along with you.

The way William looked at you at the night of the exhibit didn't go unnoticed by Dr. Reid. In fact, after the little private conversation between you and William, Dr. Reid had a word with him.

"I saw the way you were looking at my daughter." Dr. Reid said discreetly as he stood next to William, "She is quite the beauty wouldn't you agree?"

William thought of his answer very carefully, "Yes, Sir, I agree."

"She was looking at you the same exact way—I've never seen her look at a man like the way she had her eyes on you tonight." Dr. Reid swirled his wine around before sipping it, "I want you to stay away from her and we won't have a problem."

"I'm sorry?"

Dr. Reid pivoted to face William this time, "You're a talented artist, Thurber. You should focus on that. Unless you have anything good to offer my family, don't even think about lining up to pursue my daughter."

"—Don’t you think? Will? William?" You nudged him out of his trance as both of you stopped right in front of the side of the mansion where the balcony of your room was.

"Hm?" He snapped out of it.

"Where did you go just now?" You chuckled and nodded towards the sky, "Help me up?"

"Just got lost in thought."

"Am I a bore to talk to now?" You teased, nudging him on his side with your elbow.

William gave you the sharpest worried gaze, “No! Of course not.”

“Oh William~ I was just teasing you.” You laughed, “Well? Are you going to help me up the balcony?”

William bent his knees and held his hands together for you to use as a boost to get onto your balcony. You hauled yourself up, trying to be as quiet as possible. You turned around and gazed down at William, who was admiring your beauty from below.

“Would you like to come up?” You asked.

William blinked, did he hear that correctly? “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh come on, Mister Thurber, don’t make me ask you twice.”

William nervously looked around, even though no one but you was around, he felt as though he was being watched.

“You’re killing me, princess.” He muttered and reached up at the ledge with his long arms. Unlike you, he climbed up that balcony effortlessly. Before you could even take another breath he was already in front of you. Yours was a story destined for a tragic ending, but when you were already on a train headed off the cliff, all you could do was hold on tight and make every second count.

William drank you in, not missing a single detail. The wisps of hair curling around your face, the nervous anticipation in your eyes, the way your chest rose and fell in time with his own uneven breaths. Part of him wanted to march over, rip off your clothes, and fuck you right then and there. Another part of him wanted to savour the moment—the last wild, beating seconds before both of you destroyed whatever was left of your boundaries. He was a rule follower by nature. It was how he’d survived most of his life. But for you, he would break every rule in the book.

“So.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your hand trembling. “Now that we’re here, what do you have planned, Mr. thurber?” He smiled, slow and enchanting, and a small, visible shiver rippled through your body.

William grabbed the back of your neck, pulled you close, and crushed his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body warm and pliant against his as he plundered your mouth. To him, you tasted like mint and strawberries, and he wanted more. Needed more. His heart was a loud drum in his chest, beating in time with the throbbing in his cock. All of his senses sharpened to near-painful clarity—the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the smell of your perfume and the sounds of your little whimpers as you clung to him like you were drowning and William was your last lifeline.

You backed up in your room, pulling William in with you without ever parting your lips, until you landed on your mattress with him on top of you. He rubbed his thumb over your clothed nipples, and you fought back a moan as you arched into his hand— The floor creaked behind your bedroom door. You and William froze in unison, your breathing harsh. You’d gotten so wrapped up in what both of you were doing you’d forgotten all about the people sleeping just a few feet away. You both heard another creak, followed by the shuffle of someone getting out of bed. Your father, if the direction of the sound was any indication. William cursed under his breath and pulled his hand away. It was the smart thing to do, but you still wanted to weep at the loss of contact.

“I guess that’s my cue to head home.” William whispered against your lips. He gently pushed himself aside while he straightened his shirt.

“It’s very late and it’s cold outside,” You scooted closer and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Stay.”

William turned his head towards yours, “You want me to stay?”

You nodded, “We don’t have to do anything but sleep. I have to admit, I feel good being in your arms.”

William chuckled to himself, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse, “I’m starting to think you’ve put me under your spell.” William slipped out of his shoes and jacket before gathering you carefully into his arms, tucking your head into his shoulder and aligning your frozen limbs with his. You felt stiff enough to shatter due to the absence of his warmth, but bit by bit, your muscles began to relax until you lay pliant against him. Pliant and sleeping. It didn’t take very long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes for you to regain yourself. Fifteen minutes for him to lose himself.

At the crack of dawn, your skin buzzed with the warmth of waking up from a deep sleep. You looked up to the same ceiling but this time, William’s dark eyes blocked your view. They were constant yet unfamiliar. Your head eases back when you feel his fingers in your hair, playing thoughtfully with the strands.

“You’re awake.” You said, barely keeping yourself awake.

“So are you, you should go back to sleep.” William whispered and leaned down, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You hummed in return.

William sat still on the side of your bed to make sure you were back into deep sleep before he got up to leave. The sun was peeking slightly in the horizon when William walked out of the balcony, the freezing temperature nipping his skin. Slowly, William climbed down the same way he used to get up to your balcony. He landed on both his feet on the grass with a soft thud.

“Mister Thurber?” Dr. Reid blurted out confused as to what the lad was doing in front of his house. Dr. Reid stood in front of his house, looking well-decent, while William looked, well, like he just woke up, half of his shirt untucked and his hair slightly dishevelled.

“D-Did you just jump down from my daughter’s balcony?!”

Tag List: @intothesoul @ladywhistledownx @ellooo0ooo @mikeikax @fangirlingsimp @misshall14 @iamgettingalife

[biscuits-of-bagend]

DnDoc #3 - Tales in the TARDIS

Part #1 Part #2

"I was sort of pessimistic at first? But at the same time determined. It was like, this is hopeless - but also I have to get back to some sort of civilisation or at least somewhere with running water or I will die. I followed the forest trying to figure out if the trees were lined up in any sort of shape, anything that might indicate where I could find a pond. If I could find a pond I could find a stream, a river, a city, if there was one to be found."

   Rogue stopped as Ruby came in with an enormous jug of water. Maybe she'd been outside listening this whole time and knew he really needed it now that he had started this.

   "Stay if you want, Ruby," said Rogue. "It's good to see you too."

   Ruby was no longer dressed like a Regency duchess and instead wore a tartan pattern pinafore over a white t-shirt. She seemed even younger than Rogue remembered and he was glad all over again that his trap hadn't got her killed.

   The Doctor nodded to Ruby and patted the space next to him on his futon. "Come sit,  so far it sounds like it's not going to be a super sexy story."

   "Well," said Rogue.

   "Oh?" The Doctor's eyebrows shot up in what Rogue assumed at first was jealousy but that may actually have been deep intrigue, the Doctor's curiosity perhaps turning a little Chuldur-like.

   "There was a queen who really needed an heir," said Rogue.

   Ruby's eyes bugged out of her head and the Doctor put his hand to his breast and said, "You didn't."

   Rogue grinned and took a drink of water. Then he said, "No, I didn't. But it turns out I am a master match-maker. I am the Emma Woodhouse of my generation."

   "So you did eventually find a civilisation then?" said the Doctor, still shaking his head.

   "Yeah, took a long time, and I sort of turned up on their doorstep just like I did yours," said Rogue. "But they were in the middle of their own problems, away up on this hill above the wasteland. They nearly dispatched me on sight until I could convince them I was not infected with some sort of bacteria they were scared of. I mean, I was scared of it too for a moment there, until their doctor was convinced I was fine. But then they said they'd give me food and water and somewhere to sleep as long as I could complete a quest for them."

   "Aw," said the Doctor, "Just a Rogue all by himself, no tank, no face."

   "Yeah," agreed Rogue. "A face would not have gone amiss. Because what they wanted me to do was go to the one other oasis of green grass and flowering trees in the known world, see if anyone was alive there - which they couldn't tell on their telescopes - and if there was, I was to bring any eligible young males back."

   "That is a lot less romantic than Emma Woodhouse," said Ruby.

   "You're not wrong. There were three eligible young males as it turned out, and they all shared your view. I had to beg one of them and tell him all about how beautiful the queen was and how delicious the fruit away off there at the palace was - I hadn't tasted a bit of it, and wouldn't unless I could get the guy to agree to come back with me. But I'm no slouch on the deception check. So I got this one guy to come with me, eventually, after a truly horrible journey that was like the opposite of a bonding experience and he definitely hates me now."

   Rogue took another breath, wondering how he was coming across. The Doctor and Ruby would understand needs-must kinds of situations, right? He paused for a moment to focus on the burnt orange of the Doctor's jacket, his striped v-neck t-shirt underneath. Once he had his bearings back, he continued.

   "Turned out they were basically long-lost soulmates, or at least, they were willing to see each other that way in the name of speeding things along. But they wouldn't let me go until the baby was born and that took… Oh damn, I forgot to mention. Have you ever heard of Loxodons?"

   "The elephant folk?" said the Doctor.

   "Yeah, all these people were Loxodons. I should have said that at the start." Rogue waved his hand as if to brush away the confusion. He was pleased to note that this caused pain in zero muscles.

   "Wait, but elephants are pregnant for like, almost two years," said Ruby. "I swear on QI Sandi Toksvig said something like twenty-two months! Was it the same for the Loxodon people?"

   Rogue nodded, mouth closed as he watched the Doctor take this in.

   "Yeah," said Rogue. "They wouldn't help me until after the birth in case there was a problem and they needed me to go fetch another male."

   The Doctor took his hand and held it loosely, carefully. "Rogue, that is horrible. I am so sorry you had to go through all this."

   Rogue shook his head, which did cause a slight twinge in his neck but it was fading. He said, "I made my choice. No regrets. We keep moving forward, right?"

   The Doctor relaxed slightly and nodded. "Always on to the next thing."

   "Anyway," said Rogue. "Their library was amazing."

---

Part #4

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)