#you can take everything at your own pace and there is no punishment for taking as long as you need

[mbsneur]

We want Alessia in every way 👀

NSFW ALPHABET💌

Alessia Russo !bottom! 18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

she will always want you to take her in your arms afterwards and cuddle her she will scratch your back while you do it

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

her favourite part of her body is her eyes (if that counts) she loves the way you look into her eyes and go weak in the knees

her favourite body part on you are your legs she loves to free herself on your thigh

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

she likes it when you put your fingers in her mouth after you've fingered her so she can clean everything up

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

she masturbated while looking at a picture of you when she was at camp in england

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

she wasn't really experienced when you met but she has learnt a lot

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

any position where you can eat her out

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

she likes to be a brat and make fun of you so that you know her place

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

sie liebt es wenn du sie von hinten nimmst und dabei an ihren haaren ziehst

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

she knows how rough you can be and that's why most intimacy is after sex

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

she usually mastuerbates when she is far away from you but it is never the same as when you touch her

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

she loves it when you have full control over her orgasms whether it's overstimulation or orgasm denial

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

mostly in your bed or on your kitchen counter

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

she is immediately turned on if you come anywhere near her thigh

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

a no is anal for her you often tried to persuade her but she always said no

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

she is always a loving receiver but she is extremely good with her tongue and likes to get between your legs

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

she likes it when you are rough and fast and the bed shakes

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

she likes quickies but wants to complete it the same evening

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

she doesn't want to be very risky she is afraid that someone will catch you and they will see you as she has you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Alessia can take many rounds and loves it when you overstimulate her

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

she has no toys for herself but she loves it when you use vibrators and straps on her

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

she often teases you when you don't have the chance to have sex just to enjoy the punishment in the evening

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Alessia is very loud, she literally screams

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

high she could have sex at any time

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

she takes longer to fall asleep because she needs more time to wind down

[ferberus-skull]

pixel cat's end i love you.

flight rising.... you're okay (joking, i love you too)

[citrus-writing]

surrender to me

Thinking about how utterly humiliating it'd be to be forced to ride your yandere-

Tw: non-con, dub-con, extreme feelings of guilt and shame, reader is an active participant in their own assault 

--------------------------------------- 

It's bad enough when he pins you down to whatever surface is nearby, taking whatever he wants from you, forcing you to take whatever he gives you. It's bad enough that you're helpless to his advances, that he can so easily overpower you, use you like his own personal toy. It's bad enough that he fucks you so good, hitting that spot that has you nearly screaming, keeping up the relentless pace until your legs shake, and making sure you always cum at least once, though he always always tries for more.

It's worse when he pulls you on top of him. At least when you're underneath him you can say it's not your fault, that you have no hand in what happens to you.

But now, as you straddle his waist, his cock buried deep inside you, he tells you to "ride me, come on, just the way you like it" you feel shame wash over you. He's your kidnapper, he took everything from you, and now he wants you to be an active participant in your torment. Everything in your rebels against the idea, tells you to fight it, to hold onto your pride at any and all costs. But it's not like you have a choice, you know what disobeying him means- you've faced too many punishments to risk another.

Shame eats at you as you begin to move, hesitant and humiliated, but unwilling to disobey. You rock your hips, trying not to shutter with every drag of his length along your walls. You're so wet for him and you know he can tell. You close your eyes, you don't want to see the way he's looking at you, can't bare to see the adoration in his eyes when you fuck yourself on his cock and he can't help but whisper that you're "such a good girl for me".

You hate that it feels good, that even your leisurely pace is making you bite back moans and fight the urge to ride him harder, to make yourself cum, and to feel him cum too. He grabs your hips, guiding you to pick up the pace a little, and you curse that he knows exactly what you like. He knows just how to guide your movements to make you tremble and whimper as he fucks you, he knows exactly what will have you moaning and gushing around him. He knows exactly how to make you his perfect little whore.

It's too much- the absolute misery of the situation is more than you can bear. You're riding your kidnapper, moaning and crying out for him, feeling your orgasm creep up on you too fast. It’s humiliating in a way that nothing else can compare to, nothing he’s ever done to you has been quite so potently horrid. 

You can't tell if he's still forcing your hips into the rhythm or if you've given into it, can't really tell if he's thrusting up into you or if your just bouncing on his cock that hard- but you're so close, and he feels so good inside you, and you want to cum so bad. You should be fighting this, but you’re not. You’re rocking your hips against his and whining his name and begging for more. 

"Gonna cum?" He asks, voice a little bit teasing but mostly breathless at the way you move above him and the way you feel around him. He tells you all the time that he loves you, that you belong to him, that he’d do anything to keep you all to himself. In moments like this, it’s easy to believe that. You nod, desperate for release. "Go on, then,” he encourages, moving his hips against yours to meet you halfway as you move. 

You do- with a desperate cry of his name you feel your orgasm wash over you, crashing down on you and you can think of nothing else but his length filling you up, hitting so deep inside you and stretching you out so wide. It's so dirty; knowing you threw away all your morality and pride for this- you let yourself be used by man you should hate just so you could get off, you practically begged him for it. 

Because no matter how your mind tries to convince itself this isn't what you want, your body knows this is exactly what you want. 

---------------------------

[reshinless]

how about alhaitham fucking you on the couch, telling you to hush up in case kaveh comes home?

he asked you to come over to help decide on final designs for a few of his upcoming projects. but suddenly, the honest urge to have just taken you right then and there on the couch-

you didn't have to wear a skirt that short . . shit did you really wanna tease him like this? nasty girl.

he threw his head back as he worked himself inside your hole, erection only worsening, pants getting tighter and you were laid out in front of him on the couch.

"such a dirty slut. you didn't even wear panties? are you asking me to punish you? you could've just said so, brat." his digits scissored your hole, stretching your drooling cunt nice and wide before you take his dick.

he lands a rough kiss to your lips, crashing his own—chapped and hungry for your taste. the sound of his belt unbuckling never was unfamiliar, only turning you on more as you watched his phallus rise, taking a gulp nervously as you could already feel his tip teasing your entrance.

it's been almost 2 hours, and he kept going at it, your sticky hole felt warm, all the same. each time only adding more substance inside when you arch you back so your lover can hit that spot you just love so much so good.

"hnngh . . ! 'haitham annhh- fffuck I love y'r dick- nnhh-!" your loud whines he could only degrade for now, for wanting him to bend you over and fuck you over a dining table in public? of course he had to teach you first you couldn't have everything you want.

all of a sudden before the final brick of pleasure was about to be placed, alhaitham suddenly pulls out. "wha- haithammmm! please?" the tone of your voice made him and his cock eager to thrust inside you and make you all pretty n' sticky.. but he had to resist such a sight.

"been suuuch a damn good-looking brat today, you can't have it I'm afraid. what if someone else had seen this instead of me.. would you have wanted that, baby?" his tone filled with a pinch of sass, and the rest of his personality.

but who wouldn't be just a little.. possessive of you when you look so easy to just devour everything from your ears till your toes.

he shushed your cries, and pleads to make him cum inside. you know that he can't do that just yet, not until your wedding day. hmm, he definitely had to propose soon.

fat tears slowly start to run down your cheeks as alhaitham leaned in close, the previous mating press-like position you were put it now had one of your legs over his shoulder.

he started to kiss your tears away, he hated to see you cry, shit don't pull this trump card right now..

he starts to match his pace as to how a chef would cook their meals. fast, and efficient. he made no second wasted, performing small, hushed and hurried thrusts into you. a finger over your mouth to keep you down. he could hear a key jingle at the door of the home—it was his roommate kaveh.

but fuck was he so close to cumming too. he could see it through your velvety tongue that lolled out each time he grinded his angry, red tip against you g-spot.

before he knew it, he already pulled out to release, getting a few drops of his cum on your chest, over to your face. and damn would he be glad to lick it all off your body—but the door opens.

"i'm ho- OH WHAT THE FUCK—" the blond drops his things on the floor, mehrak quickly swiping them up onto its head as kaveh stands in shock.

[jam3sacaster]

“I’m gonna have ‘ta punish ya’.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by darling anon 🫶🏽 / You and Declan butt heads, and then some…

Set just after the pageant, messed with the timeline a lil i think but I managed to work the punch in another way <3

18+ FANFIC / SMUT GALORE, angsty & lots of swearing. Fairly long and very HEAVY smut, sorry x Declan you horny bastard, we love you. Reader character aged 21.

As always, request what you wanna see in the ask box 💋

“I can’t just stop working for Corinium, Declan. You cannot just waltz into my life and expect me to give everything up for you!” You shout, feeling rage seep through your veins. Declan and Rupert have been cooking up a ridiculous idea within an hour, desperate to overthrow Baddingham’s Machiavellian reign of television. “They have my balls in a fuckin’ vice, my love,”

“No, they HAVEN’T! You have thrown a ridiculous temper tantrum, on television, because you are so determined to get your own way because you’re a selfish, stubborn bastard.” You interject, slamming your reddened palms on the dinner table, face contorting in fury. “They want me to sell my fuckin’ soul, babe. To sit and judge these fuckin’ superficial pageants whilst that cunt Vereker gets MY spot on my fuckin’ show.” The Irishman bellows, leaning across the table and pointing his finger dangerously close to your face. Declan O’Hara is fucking scary when he’s angry, but my God is he sexy.

Rupert leans against the counter top, remaining silent in embarrassment. It was certainly better for everyone that way. Steaming with rage, you sit back in your seat, stray hairs sticking to the beading sweat on your forehead. “You can’t keep behaving like this, Declan. Like a fucking child.” You tut, avoiding eye contact with him. Declan frustratedly rakes a hand through his slicked hair before pouring himself an intoxicatingly large unit of whiskey. “I’m sure you can coax Tony into some amicable solution. It’s blatant he wants to fuck you. He would do anything for someone willing to open their legs for him.” Rupert pipes up and gestures towards you, cigarette smoke creating an ashy veil across his face. An excruciating silence ensued. Your eyes widened in absolute horror — Declan would certainly not take kindly to this joke. Rupert should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“You fucking what?” Declan asked him, walking towards him slowly, eyes frenzied with wrath. “Calm down, Declan, it was just a joke.” Rupert chuckled, offering his hands up in defeat. “What did ya’ fuckin’ say?” Declan asked again, containing to walk towards him until they were nose-to-nose. Another incredibly painful silence— even Rupert didn’t dare speak. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth to speak but Declan swung at him, landing a brutal punch with a wet smack. “DECLAN.” You bellow, grabbing his muscular arm and pulling him towards you. “Get out, Rupert. I’m so sorry, but just go home.” You shake your hands frantically as Rupert pulls himself from the floor and ushers himself out, clutching his face in agony.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” You scream, voice croaking under the pressure. You push Declan away from you as soon as you hear the front door click. “Ya’ t’ink I’m gonna let him talk about ‘ya like ‘dat? Talk about ‘ya spreadin’ ya’ legs for tha’ CUNT Tony?” Declan matches your enraged tone, pacing around the kitchen table but maintaining eye contact with you. You couldn’t reply to this. He was wildly protective of you — often infuriatingly so, but he could barely stand to see another man so much as look at you. Rupert’s joke was way too far.

“My job is turnin’ me into a fuckin’ laughin’ stock, you t’ink I’m a joke and you’re wavin’ your fuckin’ arse around in front of Tony.” He howled again, enraging himself with his own words. “Oh, fuck off Declan.” You spit, pushing yourself out of your chair and beginning to abandon the kitchen. “Don’t walk away from me.” He tuts, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You scream and the words can barely leave your mouth — a pathetic mixture of anger and despair. “I am fucking sick of you!” You immediately regret the words as Declan’s top lip curls in vexation. Oh fuck.

•

He hurtles towards you, pushing you towards the wall and almost taking you off of your feet. You close an eye, internally preparing yourself for the crescendo of noise he is about to create. Instead, he collides his lips onto yours, grunting in annoyance as his tongue pushes his way into your mouth. Feeling yourself melt under his touch, Declan’s hand rides under your blouse, ripping it off from the inside and exposing your bare chest — perky breasts wobbling with the force and nipples hard from arousal. The bristles of his moustache send a quiver down your spine as he kisses down your chest before taking your left nipple into his mouth: swirling around the pink bud and sucking it softly. A stifled whimper escapes your lift as you lift your hand to his trousers, rubbing across his hardening bulge.

“Bend over.” Declan demands, pulling away from you and pushing you gently towards the dining table. Hesitantly, you do as you’re told and bend over the table, skirt riding up your thighs. Not that it matters too much, as it was promptly yanked down, exposing your bare arse to the man that owned it. Running his rough hand across the right cheek, Declan smacked it firmly, the harsh noise of skin on skin reverberating across the room. “Ya’ do know I’m gonna have ta’ punish ya’.” He growled, readying his hand for another firm smack. “Mhm hmm.” You whisper, nodding your head, consenting softly. Another unyielding smack made you yelp with aching pressure — a reddened hand print beginning to take form. “Oh fuck.” He groaned, lowering himself to your level and biting firmly into your arse, pleasure taking control of his entire conscience. You keep your eyes firmly pressed shut, awaiting the next smack. Instead, you chomp down on your lip as you hear Declan’s zipper, and the subsequent sound of his trousers dropping to the ground.

“Do ya’ want it?” The Irishman questioned, teasing your slick entrance with the head of his painfully erect cock. You could feel yourself practically dripping as he placed a firm hand onto your waist. “Yes…” You breathlessly moan, pushing yourself towards him, aching to feel his girth inside you. “Yes, what?” He growled. “Yes… Daddy.” You whimper once more, desperation overtaking you.

“Good girl.” Declan praised, and pushed the full length of his cock into you, but thrusted slowly in and out. “Oh, fuck.” You wail, as the walls of your vagina grip him like a vice, already aching with the girth of his dick. “Ya’ like that? Do I feel good stretchin’ ya’ out?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and increasing his tempo with every wet smack of your arse against his pelvis. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy, teeth firmly planted into your bottom lip, mind fuzzy — you must definitely cannot muster a reply. “Tell me, girl. Tell me how good I feel inside ya’.” He asks again, hand reaching under to stroke your clit, coaxing you even closer to orgasm. Declan lolled his head back, pumping harder inside you as his fingers worked their rugged magic. “So fucking good, Daddy.” You manage to muster a reply.

“Ya’ so fuckin’ wet. Wrapped around my cock. Look at ya’ bouncin’ on my dick like a good fuckin’ whore.” Your lover groaned under your heat as he pounded into you, but the tension twisting inside your stomach was too much to bare. “Dec..Declan, I’m gonna…” You begin, but you feel him pull out in preparation.

The repetitive pounding of his enlarged cock on your g-spot left you in a dazed mess as you squirted onto the kitchen floor, legs trembling insanely throughout your orgasm. Declan watched the obscene mess he’d created with a terrible smirk on his face, full of adoration. “Good girl,” He affirmed again, “Look at the mess you’ve made for Daddy. Fuckin’ good girl.” He thrusted into you again, tempo increasing, hungry for his own release. “Are ya’ gonna let me cum inside ya?’ He asked, but he needn’t. You were already pleading with him to fill you with his seed. You needed to feel his hot, sweet cum inside of you.

“Please. I need it, Daddy. Please fill me up.” You begged, feeling Declan’s cock twitching inside you. The gratifying groans leaving his mouth prompted you to reach under your legs and stroke his cum-filled balls, luring him to ecstasy. “Fuck. Get ready, princess. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

Bracing yourself to feel his warmth inside you, you kept your hands wrapped round his balls whilst pushing your arse into him, goading him to go faster. Spurts of hot cum covered the walls of your pussy, each rope accompanied with a pleasurable groan — absolute music to your ears. “Ahh, fuck.” Declan murmured, pulling his cock from your pussy and pausing for a moment to watch a droplet of his seed drip from your walls.

“Well done, my girl. You’ve fuckin’ milked me dry.” He chuckled to himself, slapping your arse once more playfully and huffing to himself.

[valkyriexo]

You Faint | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.

Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.

But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.

And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.

Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."

You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.

The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.

Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.

"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."

"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."

You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.

Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.

Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.

Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.

As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."

Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."

"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."

Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."

"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.

Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.

"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.

You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.

As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.

Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.

"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.

"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.

Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.

"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need

You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.

Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"

You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?

As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.

"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.

The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.

As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.

"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.

"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.

Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."

His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.

"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.

When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.

"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.

As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.

"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.

Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."

His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."

"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.

"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.

With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.

After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.

The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.

As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.

As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.

Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."

You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."

Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" you ask.

"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."

You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.

"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.

Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."

He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.

As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[etfrin]

❝coriolanus snow who treats you like a doll❞

tw: toxic, dark, objectification, suggestive | [fem reader]

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow braids your hair every night, it's a routine to him. Doesn't matter how late he is from work or if he has to wake you up to do it, he will do it himself every night.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow brushes your hair every morning as well, but not only that if he has time he will shower with you. Clean you up with his own hands, rub your body thoroughly, and scrub your scalp with his favorite shampoo

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who has a very large closet dedicated to you. Everything in there was chosen and bought by him. He selects your outfit every morning and even chooses the make-up you will wear (the ones that would look pretty when you're sobbing with how good he is fucking you)

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who thinks dolls shouldn't talk after all they're dolls. Dolls should be played with. He only allows sounds from your lips when you're spewing the latest gossip, or asking him about his day. He loves your voice when you're moaning, whimpering, and whining when you're being used as a Fleshligh, otherwise, he doesn't care about your words.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow rarely lets you ride him, when he does, it's a privilege (read: he's just too tired but won't admit it) and you can only fuck yourself on his cock at the pace he has set. If you go faster or slower, he will make sure to punish his doll that can't fucking obey.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who daydreams about fucking you in front of all of Panem. Just so he can brag that he has a good pet, an obedient human doll to play with that no one has. Snow lands on top.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow doesn't show affection to you in the normal way, but he does show them (or so you believe). He shows you by kissing you on your forehead when you're good, he shows you by reading whatever book you want during bedtime, he shows you by letting you cum, he shows you by calling you his, and by letting you call him Coryo.

๑💌 Coriolanus Snow who gets paranoid that someone is going to try to poison you (even as you're stuck in the mansion) and without telling you starts to dosage your food with poison so that you grow immune. Even if your body goes weak and your mind is hazy from the noxious substance, you have access to the best doctors of Panem and you have Coryo to take care of you.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @floswife @weeeoosworld @ludasgf

[qvrcll]

nsfw, fem reader, possession + biting

when coriolanus snow latches onto you, everything tends to burn. his fingers, his nails, his teeth, his lips - they all have a tendency for a craving when they’re near you.

and when he fucks, he fucks like its not beneath him. he fucks like a reverent and a lunatic, clutching at your sides like you’ll disappear on him like a fog and leave him behind like he has feared all along. claiming skin that he feels is his.

one night, in particular, he’s especially needy: hot all over, hands roaming the expanse of your back and pushing your body tightly against his. if he gave you time to recover from the melt of his kisses, you’d have recognised his heart for your own - thudding like something violent in his chest, able to be felt even with layers of clothing on. but he breathes you in like an tonic he has never felt before. in need of more, always.

“needy much?” you croak, feeling his rough hands catch against your throat as he grasps your cheeks. he intends to pull so you impossibly close to him, that the two of you might melt as one. how romantic.

he hisses when you bite his lip, take it between your stubborn canines and stay, “always. you - ah - know that.”

and it progresses into something bigger - his hands on your hips, nose nudging into your neck. he gets enthusiastic, gets riled up in places which are his forte - when this happens, it’s always his fingers that stretch you out first. one, two, and when you cry out loud, he’s staring at you with something ugly in his eyes.

possession. filthy, and wholly his. his eyes almost shift.

“poor, weeping little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he taunts you, voice against your breast as he takes your nipple to his teeth. the friction is lovely, delicious in a way, and you can’t blame the guttural moan that leaves you, or him, when you arch into his body. still, there’s no answer from you, “it’s mine. tell me, i need to hear it. that it’s mine.”

his fingers curl inside of you, the flex of them so nasty and painfully good that you never mean to squeal, but do anyways. he smiles at this. smiles at any twitch, any chance of your body betraying logic and following feeling, and he begins to slow his pace to filter that feeling as punishment.

and when you register this, you panic. your eyes are blown wide, quivering already when he hasn’t even given you a real fuck - “yours - yours! it’s yours, coryo. all - ugh - all… yours.”

his fingers flex, tighten.

“all mine? you sure?”

you can see him against your chest, eyes like that of a snake. glaring and wanting, poison in the air as he takes from you like a dog.

“yours, all yours - coryo, please!”

“shh. i know - that’s all i wanted to hear,” he smiles then, his fingers picking up an addicting pace, “i know, baby, i know… see, feels better doesn’t it?”

you nod, fervent and hot, in need of release. what impending release he has waiting for you. what utter cruelness he puts into his thrusts, his strokes. coriolanus is of much character, and still, he looms above. possesses you fully, like a thing for taking. you can barely see it now, but his eyes go dark with the lust of it.

and when he is fully sheathed inside, after much patience, he’s delirious. much more than before. you know this, he knows this, because his hips snap against yours so much more cruelly, faster and harder than anything else he’s given you in this room.

“coryo - oh god,” you cry, circling your legs against his hips, and the proximity it brings makes the two of you mewl against one another. when he thrusts again, its fire taking a lick at fire, and with filthiness forming inside of him, he takes to something more deranged. misplaced.

“you belong to me.”

you nod, hazy. not understanding to the best of your capabilities.

“you understand, don’t you? you’re smart, aren’t you? - ah,” he moans, and where he doesn’t, he bites the soft flesh of your neck until it grows tender with pain, “this,”

he picks a disgusting pace on your clit, fingers slipping,

“is all mine.”

the force of your orgasm isn’t superficial. it’s wrenched out from the deepest parts of you. when you lose consciousness, coriolanus slaps two fingers against your cheeks, chuckling when you blink back up blearily.

perhaps, so blearily that you don’t properly make out the sight of him popping two silver-stained fingers in his mouth, your spent too sweet for him to give up so easily. how delicious you taste, he marvels, the thought of it being all his more thrilling than for just one round.

(requests for snow / tbosas are open!)

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[pinkmirth]

What kinks do you think each Castlevania man would have? Asking for a science project

⸻ WANT & NEEDS!

MY LOVE NOTE! 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ oooh, kinks you say? >< glad you asked, nonnie! for scientific purposes only, of course . . .

CONTAINS . . . 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ multi castlevania men x fem!reader (black coded); adrian ‘alucard’ tepes, trevor belmont, richter belmont, hector forgemaster, isaac forgemaster, & vlad ‘dracula’ tepes; praise, body worship, breeding, power play (dom/sub), edging, bdsm (flogging), explicit language, lowercase intended, not proofread (apologies for any typos!), minors shoo!

ALUCARD!

praise • he wants— no, needs to hear the effect he has on you. is he doing well? do you want it faster? are these brittle-cold hands of his any good at handling your body? it’s all he wants; to hear those sweet, sweet words tumble from your lips and grace his ears. words of affirmation is what adrian holds onto dearly. tell him you love him, just voice it out through a whisper, and he’ll melt into you with the loudest moan you’ve ever pried from him. his sounds will heighten, pace increased with a surge of fervor, a fueled drive to please you. yes, he likes being sweet-talked when it’s coming from his beloved. flatter him a bit, and he’ll surely give you a night to remember.

oh my god i’m so sorry but I’m adding another for my favorite man; body worship! • adrian is all about devotion. once he’s invested in anything, in you, he pours in everything he has to offer. alucard doesn’t take it lightly; you trusting him enough to be so vulnerable as to getting intimate with him. unclothing with him. touching yourself before him. joining your body with his own . . . letting his cock press its way into your tight, delicate entrance. it’s an honor, and he sees it as such. his lips never leave your skin, kissing along your neck as he rolls his hips into you, fucking deep into your warmth. ‘thank you,’ he whimpers, tone low but light as a whisper, ‘thank you, my love . . .’ his hands, big and cold, trail along your hips, against your tummy, around your ass, anywhere he can grace with his cool touch. he likes when you voice your approval of him, but loves to praise you all the more.

TREVOR!

breeding • there’s no denying; it took this man no time at all to get sypha pregnant! and god, if that doesn’t convince you, than nothing else can. he fucks with reckless abandon, and finishes inside as it’s his favorite place to do so. he’ll keep you stuffed with him, cock pulsing from within you as he uses your pliant womb to empty his fat balls of the last spurt of his thick, potent cum. there’s a dopey grin he carries knowing that he’s thoroughly fucked a baby into you. perhaps he isn’t destined to be the only remaining survivor of the house of belmont, after all.

RICHTER!

flogging • he doesn’t like to punish you. no, not at all. but seemingly, you quite enjoy receiving it. when you’re working up a fit just to gauge his reaction, richter knows what to do. the unnecessary attitude, sharp mouth, huffy noises— you just want to be spanked. and so, he throws you over his lap, bunches up the frilly layers of your skirt, and allows his handheld flogging toy, purchased for moments like these, to fall upon the jiggling flesh of your round ass. you moan from the pain, and his cock throbs from beneath his trousers. again, it lashes against your bum and the contact makes you jolt in his lap, trembling over his thighs and dripping all over his flogger toy. it’s almost . . . beautiful, watching the sting of pleasure bloom into a faint, lasting red on your supple skin.

HECTOR!

power play • he may be on top, but you’re holding onto the reins. telling him to slow down, speed up, drive into you deeper; it’s all up to you. and oh, is he quick to listen. he’s a pretty little thing— handsome, intelligent, obedient. he aims for your pleasure much more than his own, sneaking beneath layers of fabric to eat you out, determined to make you cum from the swipe of his tongue alone. he isn’t just doing it because you asked, no. he likes the tug of your fingers weaves through his hair, pushing his face further into your dripping cunt. he likes to be used, to be lead, to feel no regret for being vulnerable. you’re sure of what you want from hector and find no shame in demanding for more, blessing him with the direction he so desperately needs.

ISAAC!

edging • isaac simply likes the control it gives, and who is he to turn away from exercising the art of pure discipline? he feels you fluttering around him, sounds growing pitchier as you try and fuck yourself on his cock. it’s easy for him to keep you still in this angle, as he’s kneeling above you and you’re laid on your back, peering up at him with lust-blown eyes and the most desperate expression he’s ever come across. a large hand of his grabs your face, and sternly. his thrusts come to a stop. to that, you whine, but he doesn’t fucking care. you’ll learn some self-control, he’ll make sure of it; even if he’s stuffed you full and the dick has you going brainless.

DRACULA!

soft sex • dare i say this man is vanilla as fuck? he just wants to please, and coddles you throughout it all with his imposing frame. he makes up for his cold touch with the safety and experience his large hands have to offer. vlad craves pure intimacy; nothing extreme, just pure bliss.

[hotchreid-cm]

Moment of Weakness / Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: Hotch tells you that Haley is cheating on him and you comfort him until one thing leads to another.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex, light choking, cheating, no happy ending.

A/N: I wrote with Fem Reader in mind but can be read as GN Reader!

(Read Part 2 Here!)

You knock on the office door before walking in, "hey Hotch, got the last file for you."

He doesn't look away from the papers in his hands, "thanks, just leave it on the desk and then I need you to go home."

You laugh, "home? I thought this was it."

Hotch raises his eyes to yours and smiles briefly. He sets the papers down with a sigh and takes the file from your outstretched hand.

You try to peer into his soft brown eyes again, "when are you going home? I'm sure Haley is waiting up for you?"

"I doubt it" slips past his lips before he can seem to stop himself.

You step closer, "Hotch, is everything alright?"

Hotch only gives you nod and looks back to the papers on his desk, effectively dismissing you.

You give him a nod of your own before heading to the door.

Hand on the door handle is when Hotch comes out with, "Haley's cheating on me."

You turn to look at him but he's leaning forward, elbows to knees and staring at the floor.

You open your mouth and close it a few times before settling on, "how do you know?"

"Nothing conclusive. Just behavior, the phone calls, leaving the room, the guilt, the hostility."

You come closer, not sure how to help the man that rarely shows his emotions but you know feels so much underneath it all.

"I'm sorry, Hotch."

"Don't be, we both know I'm the one that drove her to it."

You rush towards Hotch without really thinking. Dropping to your knees so that you can finally seek out his eyes, "don't do that, don't give her an out for cheating. She could have told you, come to you and talked to you."

You lay a hand on his knee when he doesn't respond, "Aaron, its not on you."

Eventually Hotch covers your hand with his, warming your cool ones. Looking up to your face, now inches from his.

You're not sure who leans in first but it doesn't matter, when you feel his lips against yours. Hotch consumes you. He devours you whole, like he always has from the moment you met him. And always will.

He bites your lip, opening your mouth with a gasp, taking control as your tongues meet and his hands tangle in your hair.

You fist his shirt, trying to bring him closer, to feel the warmth that radiates from him every day.

He pulls you up until you're both standing, lips still tangled together and your hands roaming over his broad chest.

His hands find the backs of your thighs, lifting until he settles you on his desk, the papers rustling underneath your weight.

His lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, a nip at your ear and his tongue tracing down your neck, tasting you.

Your head tips back, allowing him access as you whisper, "Aaron", into the quiet of the room.

He unbuttons your shirt and pushes it off, "you have no idea how many times I've wanted to do this."

He takes your nipple into his mouth, teasing and sucking as you squirm on his desk.

Your hands tug on his soft hair as he does the same to your other nipple.

"Please Aaron, please."

He stands over you, his hand coming up to cover your throat gently, "I'm going to take you now. Like I've wanted to take you from the moment I saw you."

You whisper, "please, sir", and it breaks the slow and gentle pace you had both been going at.

Aaron rushes to unbuckle his belt as you shimmy out of the rest of your clothes.

He doesn't waste a moment when his cock finally springs free, grabbing your thighs with bruising intensity until you're on the edge of the desk.

His cock slams inside you and you cry out as your nails dig into Aaron's back.

He keeps up a punishing pace as he sucks and bites your neck, no doubt leaving his mark on you for days to come. And all you can do is moan and repeat his name like a prayer. An answer to your problems. Your salvation.

His hand finds your neck again, squeezing lightly until you clench around him. He brings his forehead to yours as he says, "you make me feel things I haven't in a long time...and I don't know what to do."

You lose yourself in his words and the pleasure his body is bringing yours until you finally respond, "just let go, Aaron."

It was like the permission he needed. His pace coming harder and faster, rutting into you until he erupts. Three uncontrollably hard slams and then he stills, the warmth of his cum spreading inside you.

He buries he face in your neck as you do the same to him, breathing each other in. The only sound in the room now are your harsh breaths.

That tiny moment, with Hotch still inside you and his lips to your neck was perfect. The most at peace you had felt in a long time.

But it was broken the moment he pulls away.

He steps back from you like you burnt him, pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt he says, "that should never have happened."

He storms out of the office, leaving you naked and confused sitting on his desk.

A/n: I don't have huge amounts of experience writing smut but this came to mind and I couldn't resist.

[foolsunz]

𝐂𝐔𝐌 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 ♥︎

— how the dreamies (minus chenle&jisung) reacts to you wanting them to cum inside you.

⤼ content warnings: creampies (obvs), breeding, possessiveness, choking, unprotected sex, pregnancy talk, degradation (use of slut), praise and use of pet names. ⤼ word count: 1,3K.

౨₊ৎ Mark

cumming inside you turns him on to no end but, the thought of you actually getting pregnant scares the shit out of him. he also just doesn’t he get the appeal but, he’s such a selfless lover and, definitely won’t turn it down if you bring it up.

he loves to creampie you.

also,,, he’d do anything for you so— indulging in the kinks you like so much, and he’ll 100% dirty talk you through it, to rile you up even more.

“shit.. look how hungry your tight little pussy is for my cock,” he grunts, not hesitating to wrap his strong hand tight around your little throat, choking you.

he compels you to keep eye contact with him, setting a punishing pace while he watches you turning into a needy mess.

“eyes on me. don’t close them or i’ll fucking stop,” he threatens, stilling his hips and firmly gripping your waist. “good girl.”

you begin to squirm and buck your hips up against his, a clear sign that you’re embarrassingly close.

“fuck, where do you want my cum, baby?”

he’ll feel indifferent when you cry out that you want him to cum inside you because… sure, it’s sexy as fuck, but he really doesn’t see the difference between a breeding kink and cumming inside you.

he’ll still do it for you though, because he’s so whipped. also never bring it up voluntarily but, will do it in a heartbeat if you ask him to, especially if you pout and wrap your legs around his waist.

poor baby will be so nervous at first but, he also can’t help but listen to your every request happily, only wanting to please you.

he interlocks his fingers with yours and quickens his pace and, despite being nervous— he’ll cum way quicker when you let him fuck you raw because he just loves the way you’re squirming and milking his cock.

“you feel so good, fuck, fuck, fuck—m’gonna cum,” he gasps, burying his face and letting out the most angelic whimpers as he’s about to cum inside you. “love you so much, nngh fuck!”

౨₊ৎ Renjun

ooof. pretty boy wouldn’t even realise he had a breeding kink until he came inside you for the first time.

there was just something about seeing his own cum mixed with your glistening arousal dribbling out of your spent pussy… since then, he made it his life’s mission to treat you like his own personal cum bucket.

“shit, that’s it, baby,” he moans praises into your ear as he thrusts into you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast circles.

at this point, everything’s getting too overwhelming for you— his moans, his merciless thrusts, and his intimidating yet loving gaze.

“you’re so goddamn pretty… fuck, gonna make you mine, baby.”

“you feel so good—shit, ‘m gonna cum. where do you want me to finish?” he asks, desperately hoping you’d say inside of you.

“inside me, please,” you choke out as your legs begin to shake. the knot in your stomach tightens with every rough snap of his hips.

you wrap your legs around his waist to lock him in before whimpering, “use me however you want. please.”

and that’s all it takes for him to see red as he pounds into you, pinning you against the mattress with brutal and merciless thrusts before painting your walls with his cum, fucking it as deep as he can into you, not stopping until he’s empty.

“yeah? you better take all of it, slut, don’t you dare spill a single drop.”

then he pulls out, gaping at your core, watching his seed pool out of you and roll down your inner thighs before fucking it all back into you again.

౨₊ৎ Jeno

truthfully, it’s the possessiveness of breeding that gets him. not only is he obsessed with the way your warm cunt sucks all his cum right out of him but, he loves seeing you covered in him… how messy your tight little cunt is just for him.

he just loves all forms of claiming and the idea of filling you to the brim with his thick spurts of hot, sticky cum makes his head spin, literally.

you can instantly tell he’s out of it when he starts blabbering about how big you’re gonna be after he knocks you up, how good of a girl you are, how he’s the only one who can breed you like this.

“such a dumb little slut, baby,” he moans as his hand reaches around to rub your clit, his ministrations making you gasp. “mhm, can feel you clenching around my cock... fuck— you’re drenching me with how wet you are. we’re gonna have to change the sheets.”

he loves hearing you being loud for him— the sounds of your screams and whimpers going straight to his cock.

when you feel your legs shake and your eyes roll in the back of your head, you beg him to fill you up already and his brain immediately goes into overdrive, his hips once again gaining speed, slamming into you harder as he talks you over the edge.

“making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

“fucking good girl, gonna knock you up and use you like my little cumslut, just what you’re good for.”

౨₊ৎ Haechan

he isn’t the type to initiate breeding but fuck, he’ll go completely feral when you beg him to fill you with his babies. like, this boy will lose it on the spot.

a deep growl escapes his throat, rumbling through his chest into your back as he pounds into you from behind. you don’t need to ask him twice because he’ll quickly flip you over and rail you missionary like his entire life depends on it as degrading words leave his lips.

“isn’t this what you wanted? me to breed you like a bitch in heat?” he snarls, his thrusts getting rougher and faster with every whimper, moan, gasp, whine and sob leaving your swollen lips. “me to dump my cum in your pretty little pussy and knock you up, s’ that it?”

“y-yes nngh, f-fill me up,” you cry out.

he pounds you into subspace, the desire to breed you building up to more than he can handle.

when he feels you clench around him, drool running down your chin, he’ll gently wipes away the drool and any stray tears on your cheeks.

“fuck princess, i want it too… wanna fill up your little pussy so bad.”

“mine, mine, mine, mine.”

he’ll get so lost in the feeling of your walls caving around him that he’ll moan it over and over again.

౨₊ৎ Jaemin

more than than breeding, he just really enjoys the feeling of cumming inside you. like, he definitely thinks breeding is hot and all but, becoming one with you and knowing he’s the only one that can have you this way is even hotter to him.

he gets off at the thought of the mere risk of impregnating you and he definitely isn’t shy to say dirty stuff like…

“gonna fill you so full, there’s no way you won’t be pregnant,” and “you like the idea of that, don’t you? i’ll fill you with so many babies.”

with his thrusts getting rougher and rougher with time— your moans are getting louder and louder, his hips mercilessly snapping back and forth as your mouth falls open.

jaemin won’t tell you but, his mind is full with how his cum will be dripping down your legs for the rest of the day, and he just can’t stop fantasizing about impregnating you, about having kids with you as his insane baby fever kicks in.

the thought alone is enough to almost make him cum on the spot.

like sure, your fucked out face expressions and the way your warm cunt sucks all his cum right out of him drives him absolutely insane but it’s mostly just… the idea of starting a family with you and having kids that look like you and him running around that he finds so incredibly sexy.

he knows he doesn’t want kids yet, but the way you’re clenching around him and milking his cock is making him think twice.

“that’s my pretty girl... you’re gonna let me breed your womb and knock you up?” he growls, clearly just as turned on and far gone as you are. “yeah baby? i’ll cum in you and fill you all up. you’re gonna be dripping when i’m done.”

“just like that, cream my fuckin’ cock, baby.”

© foolsunz 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, modify, or take credit for any of my works.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our Girl – Part 4

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: Smut [18+, minors DNI]

You stared at the gold invitation, cursive writing announcing Cresseida to be wed in a months time. And there was your name printed, Y/N and partners. You had scoffed when you first saw it – maybe in another life.

You were chewing your lip, lost in thought on whether to attend or not. You knew at the least, Rhys and Feyre would attend the wedding – that meant seeing them. And word would surely spread of your work at Spring Court once you got to chatting to other guests – that would reveal your location. 

“Whats bothering you, young spark?” Finbark asked from the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables as a pot of stew boiled behind him. He looked up briefly, spotting the invitation in your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of not attending?” 

“I don't want to risk what I have here.”

“Y/N, everything you’ve worked for is already yours. Your home here, your work, even your privacy, no one can take that away from you now, not even a High Lord or Lady.”

“I know, you’re right. It’s just… I've so enjoyed my little bubble away from everything that happened. Seeing them… they made me feel so small Fin, so helpless. I don't know if I can stand going through that again.”

“So much has happened since then. Look at all you’ve done, all you’ve accomplished. Thousands of fae, gods, even the entire damn court is mending thanks to you. You were never small, and you have proven that to yourself over and over again.”

A wobbly smile jerked at your lips, tears pricking in your eyes. He wiped his hands, leaving the vegetables to come cup your face, brushing away your tears.

“You cannot lock yourself in Spring Court forever, sweetheart. Don't punish yourself for their mistakes, expand your horizons, celebrate with friends that are equally yours as they are theirs. And celebrate yourself, you deserve that even more.”

You reached for your uncle’s rippled hand, holding it tight. “Thank you, Finbark. You mean the world to me.”

“And you me, young spark.” 

So it was decided. You would attend the wedding, without any partners.

————

“Where are we going?” you called from Podie, Tamlin a few paces ahead on his own horse. He was leading you through a trail you weren't familiar with.

“For the umpteenth time Y/N, it’s a surprise.” He called back without turning his head. 

You let out an audible sigh, to which Tamlin chuckled. You did your best not to admire his ass as he straddled a horse – it helped neither of you how handsome Tamlin looked in his riding clothes. You pressed your heels to Podie, coming to trot beside him.

“You should know I hate surprises,” you sang.

“Even the good kind? What a shame,” Tamlin responded, clearly not letting up on where he was taking you. You poked your tongue out, earning another chuckle.

It had been several months since your first dinner with Tamlin, and you had fallen into a comfortable pattern with the High Lord. You enjoyed a regular drink or meal together when your work crossed paths, and he had even consulted you on advice for his court, which flattered you. His company was a consistent pleasure, and you treasured the friendship you had formed – the Gods knew you needed it.

You managed to bite your tongue for another twenty minutes, and just as you were about to pester him again, Tamlin spoke. “It’s just up this trail.”

Pulling the reins of his horse, Tamlin led you down a steep path, hidden much by overhanging trees and bushes, only to reveal a clearing.

No, not a clearing – a field, blossoming with rows of carefully planted pink flowers. And as you got closer, the size of the field was revealed, bordered by a low wooden fence. It was… a farm?

You drew in an audible breath as the scent of the flowers hit you. You widened your eyes at Tamlin, who was grinning at your shock. You dismounted Podie quickly, rushing to brace the fence as you took in the site with awe. 

“Wild Gernaium?” you choked, your eyes still wide. 

“The healing flower,” Tamlin nodded. “It took a while to learn how to farm them, months in fact, but Spring has Prythians best botanists.”

“And here I thought they could only grow in the wild,” you shook your head with disbelief. “Tamlin, these are so rare, how on earth you were able to farm this many?”

“Spring Court is a land that gives back, the soil here is rich of nutrients and the weather forgiving. It is of course only something we were able to do, thanks to your mission work to help recover the land. This is your accomplishment as much as it is theirs.”

Tears pricked in your eyes then. The amount of fae that could be helped with this crop – it was an overwhelming thought. 

“And they are for you, of course.”

You gaped at the High Lord, who laughed again. 

“For me?”

“Of course, for your work. Whatever you need – farmers to pick the flowers, a factory full of workers to grind and bottle the pigment – say the word and it’s yours.”

“Tamlin, I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Please, don’t. It’s not a thanks I deserve, I’m just… trying to look out for my people. Just as you do.”

“Well… you’ve done a Gods damned good job,” you said with raised brows, blowing out a loose breath at the extend of the farm. 

Tamlin threw his head back and laughed, and you grinned at his happiness. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Nice work, High Lord.”

Tamlin squeezed your hand back. “It wouldn't be without you.”

He pulled on your hand then, leading you through the flowers as you admired the plants up close. He explained that a factory could be built at the farms edge, attached with a pressing mill and grinders. Your heart fluttered with excitement, your work could extend past manual labour, you could now offer medicine and healing. There was a force brewing inside you, something unstoppable and good, something that lay dormant for centuries, finally unleashed and free.

You still held Tamlin’s hand as he lead you through the field, making your way to a lush hill that overlooked the farm. You sat together, Tamlin listening contently as you excitedly spoke through your ideas on how to harvest the medicine, noting that your small growing team of mission workers could also help to distribute throughout the court.

“How many aid workers have you recruited now?” Tamlin asked. 

“Seven, and we’re currently inducting Nyvya in the east. She’s a trained healer, so will be delighted to hear of the Gernaium.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiled. 

“It is,” you said warmly, and it occurred to you that you owed Tamlin a truth. An idea you were planning to run by him at a much later time. But with the offer of the Gernaium, the access to this kind of healing, that changed things. “It is,” you repeated almost flatly, chewing at your lip as your eyes fell distant, dancing with thought.

Tamlin caught the movement, and he frowned slightly as he shifted from his lounging position. “What is it?”

Your heart rose in anticipation – you felt sheepish. So you stared at him, deciding on whether it was in fact the right time.

“You can say it – whatever it is,” he said gently, taking your hand. Your silence lead him to start guessing. “Are you leaving Spring?”

“No, no I–”

“Because you are free to come and go as you please. I know my past behaviour speaks for itself, but I would hate to think that you feel trapped or–”

You grabbed his shoulders then, squeezing the muscle underneath. “Tamlin, gods I know that.”

The action seemed to stun him, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You felt a slight twang of guilt for drawing out such a distinct shame in him. 

You took a deep breath, pulling your hands to your lap. “With the mission work expanding, along with my team, we have been able to help fae at the borders, some from Summer, even a few from Autumn.”

Tamlin nodded assuringly, a sign for you to continue. He didn't startle over the technicality of Spring members helping foreign fae – that was a good sign. 

“And it felt good to help them Tam, they were isolated, and just as vulnerable as some of those in Spring.”

“Of course,” he said softly.

You had to take a deep breath, and your eyes found the horizon beyond the rolling hills around you. 

“You know,” you spoke softly. “My ambitions to help and protect others, it has always existed beyond court borders.”

You could see Tamlin shift, before giving a slow nod. 

“After talking with my team, we believe our mission work could gain traction in other courts, should they be willing. We could share knowledge, resources too if it was agreed, and provide aid across Prythian without being conformed to borders.”

You forced your eyes to Tamlin then, grimacing at what you might find written on his face. But it was just as neutral, his eyes soft, his jaw chiselled and handsome and – damn him.

“This is not the way I wanted to propose this to you Tamlin, please know. Especially after your generosity with the Gernaium, I understand completely if you have grown them purely to aid your own subjects. But that doesn't stop the need for mission work across Prythian. I plan to gain the support from as many High Lords and Ladies as possible, and I would be honoured if that started with you.”

Tamlin eyed you with those sharp green eyes, the kind of look that made you shift under the weight of it. And after an insufferable silence, he spoke. 

“You are incredible.”

You blinked in shock, Tamlin’s lips pulling at your reaction. 

“Truly,” he smiled, grabbing your hand to kiss it. “I have never met anyone who was to see a need as great as this, and think to grow it beyond borders. Magic anchors a High Lord or Lady to their Court, it makes us territorial and protective, violent even. But you, this,” he said waving his hand to you, before sighing, contemplating how to say what he felt in words. “You are what this world needs.”

Your eyes welled before two fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “Tamlin,” you chocked, unable to think of anything else to say.

He shifted closer, brushing the tears away with his thumb as he cupped your face. “You have my support Y/N. Thank you for teaching me to be better.”

Emotion surged through you, as if flushing you from years of doubt and hate, replaced now with inspiration, kindness and good, honest love. And then your lips were on his. 

Taken aback, Tamlin caught himself on one strong arm as you held his face and kissed him. You pulled away, worried to have overstepped your boundaries. But then a strong hand laced around your waist, his other propping himself up as he leaned in, closing his mouth over yours, a sharp breath drawn as his nose brushed against your. Friendship, understanding, a blossoming love – how quickly Tamlin had welcomed you to a world capable of healing, of growth. 

Every fibre in your limbs begged to be closer to him, to bask in the vulnerability he had shown you, and you him. In only half a year, you had grown together, healed together, and learned to love one another. You did, you loved him, for whatever he was to you – a dear friend, a High Lord, it didn't matter. It was equal, and genuine, and you craved it in every way. 

Fuelled in by dizzy passion, you quickly straddled his lap, pulling at his broad shoulders to bring him further into you, letting him encompass your senses. 

Tamlin’s own hands slid across your back, moving up to your neck, gripping at the roots of your hair, the other grasped at the flesh where your thighs met your hips. 

He seemed to realise where this was heading, pulling away with a sharp breath through his nose. “Y/N–”

You shook your head, dismissing him immediately with another kiss, your tongue begging for entrance to his mouth. “Tamlin.” His name was a plea.

“Are you cer–?”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question, peppering kissed in between words. “I’ve–never–been–more–certain.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and goosebumps pricked at your skin as you felt it vibrate through to you. Your excitement peaked, it had been so long since you had shared yourself with another, and your core fluttered with anticipation as every fragment of you seemed to chant yes, yes, yes. 

Which is exactly what you moaned as Tamlin entered you, your skirts pulled high, his riding pants pulled low. You placed a flat palm on his chest, your eyes clenched shut as you stretched around his girth, your walls already throbbing as you slowly slid down. Tamlin let out a stifled growl, one laced with satisfaction and a lot of restraint. 

Strong arms hugged you then, and you began to writhe together, moving gently and sensually as you ground against each other. Chasing release was far beyond you, there was so much pleasure to be had in sharing your bodies, relishing in the trust you both had found in one another.

Tamlin did his best to keep a leash if his instincts, his beast form begging to be released and he grunted and growled when you moved your hips in a certain way, nipping at your neck and ear as claws now ran down your back. You ran your fingers through his hair, using it to guide his face to yours as you kissed him and fucked him how you pleased. His own hands moved to grip at your ass to do the same. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, his deep voice breaking, strained with pleasure. 

“Tamlin, gods, you feel–”

“So. Good,” he gritted, finishing your sentence. You leaned back, head thrown back as your hands found balance on his thighs as you rode him in the warm spring air. 

Pleasure found both of you again and again in that afternoon. You climaxed on his lap, and not twenty minutes later he was pushing into you again, your bare thighs spread on the lush green grass as he moved above you. You clung together, a writhing, sweaty mix of passion and pleasure until the sun began to set over the rolling hills. 

Tamlin reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours as you ate the last of the berries he had packed. He kissed your forehead before turning you to rest against his chest, not wanting you to miss the view. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your hair. 

Stroking his arms that were tightly wrapped at your waist, you swallowed, debating on what to say. But no, Tamlin deserved the truth, you must always choose truth. You sighed , saddened by what was churning through your head after such incredible sex.

“I’m thinking we need to discuss what this afternoon means.” 

You loved him, you did, but Tamlin was bound to his court, and your life called beyond it. It wouldn't work, no matter how much you cared for each other.

Tamlin knew this too. “What if,” he spoke softly, brushing your hair away from your neck so he could place a gentle kiss on it. “What if we enjoy this moment for what it is, just for today.”

You smiled, kissing his hands. “Tomorrow then.”

“Plenty of problems await,” he joked, and you laughed before settling further into him. You smiled cockily as you felt him harden against you. Tomorrow indeed.

————

One month later

Peering from the carriage window, your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the clap of horses hooves as guests arrived at the summer estate, music floating gently from within.

Dawned in all colours, you watched guests gasp in awe at the beauty of the building. This was one of many of Tarquin’s estates - one you had never visited. It was an open, grecian style home, golden columns holding the impressive entrance carved with shimmering vines. Fae flocked in groups, sparkling wine already in their hands as they made their way to the gardens, no doubt where the service was being held. 

“Are you alright?” Tamlin asked, the velvet of his deep green suit brushing against your bare arm. 

“Uneasy to say the least,” you said thickly, your tongue stiff with nerves. “And you?”

Tamlin looked beyond the window, eyeing each of the guests. “One step at a time,” was his response as he squeezed your knee. 

————

The curtesy wine offered to you at the entrance was gone within the first few moments of arriving. You wouldn't make a fool of yourself here, but a little wine to take the edge off couldn't hurt. 

Tarquin stood proudly, wearing a fine turquoise suit detailed with gold thread, shaking hands as he welcomed guests. 

“Y/N,” he beamed, taking your hands and kissing each of your cheeks. “I’m honoured you came.”

“The pleasure is mine, Tarquin. Thank you for having me.”

“Nonsense, both Creseida and I might have forced you here if you had not come willingly.”

You laughed freely. “How is she?”

“A wreck of nerves,” he chuckled. 

“I’m sure she looks beautiful,” you laughed lightly back. 

“She does, just as you do,” he winked, raising your hands he still held to take in your dress. A silken, soft blue dress fell of your body, its back open as material gathered just before your rear. The dressmaker had done an incredible job, fitting style and colour alike. You had politely declined her suggestions of a sage green, a Spring Court signature. It was kind, but you were courtless for over a year now, and proud of it. Instead, you had asked for sky blue – as no one ruled the skies. 

Blushing, you let out another soft laugh. “You are too kind, High Lord.”

Tarquins eyes flashed behind you, catching Tamlin as he spoke with some familiars a few paces away. “Have you…?” he questioned, trailing off.

You smiled knowingly. “I’ve come alone. Tamlin and I shared a carriage, journeying from the same court. You remember of my work there?”

“Remember? Sweetheart, there is talk of your mission throughout my court. There are guests here who are very keen to meet you. And we will need to formally discuss your work, and give a proper thanks to the aid you have provided at the border.”

You were smiling wide now, shaking your head with gratitude. “I would like that too, but perhaps not here.”

Tarquin grinned. “No, perhaps not. Welcome, sweet Y/N, please enjoy the festivities, and accomodation.”

You smiled politely as Tamlin approached, exchanging a firm handshake before raising his brows at you. “Shall we head in?”

Nodding tightly, you let Tamlin guide you with a hand at the small of your back. At the very least, the warmth of his skin against yours was a small comfort. 

The estate was even more impressive the further you ventured, white marble and golden staircases twisting this way and that, leading to corridors of rooms, each door carved to perfection. These were the guest accomodations, and included your own for the evening. 

But the jewel of the home was its view, where a perfectly groomed garden now catered to almost a thousand fae, overlooking the crystal blue Adriatic, the waves beneath crashing the cliff quieted by the string quartet. It was an overwhelming beautiful home, and you were glad to be lost in a sea of guests. 

 A golden arch was set at the end of a the aisle, a High Priestess exchanging words with a groom you did not recognise. But you smiled – you were happy for Creseida. 

“An impressive turnout,” Tamlin muttered, sipping his wine as his green eyes turned sharp, scanning the crowd. You ignored the glances being cast your way, whether it was from your attendance with Tamlin, or Tamlin’s presence alone, you didn't care. What did these fools know of either of your stories to judge.

And you tried not to look, to not let your heart beat fast as you scoured for a rare set of wings amongst the finery of the wedding, telling yourself you wouldn’t turn your heel and run at the site of any siphons or shadows or night. But you were thankful to not find any. 

That was, until you felt them. Muscles jerking, goosebumps pricked your skin as your power began to tingle sharply, spreading across your body like a rash. Shit – you hadn't anticipated to lose your lid in such a way, your power had been so forgiving this past year. 

A small gap parted in the crowd of guests at the stairs of the estate, and the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were revealed. Arms loop, night curling around them in the fashion that impressed and threatened all at once. Rhysand shook hands with a nearby male, Feyre kissing the cheeks of a curtsying female. 

It shocked you, how quickly your spy instincts found you. As if in one of your many life-threatening missions, your senses narrowed, the noise in your brain focusing to immediate details – taking in only what you needed to survive, just as Azriel and Cassian had trained you. Your vision barrelled to the couple who still greeted others some distance away. Scanning behind them, you anticipated the remainder of your old family, and of course, your exes. 

Yet no one followed. Not even Mor. It seemed the High Lord and Lady had attended alone. It was strange – had things turned bad at the Court, that even the Morrigan had forgone a wedding?

Rhysand wore a handsome smile as he guided Feyre down the stairs to the garden, guests parting even further, bowing as they strode through. They were getting closer, and you ignored the clench of your heart as their scent filled your nose, before mixing with others. It was the smell of home.

No. it wasn't home. Not anymore, and not for a good while now. You hated that instinct, to curl into it, to let it welcome you, claiming you still. 

You glanced behind, conscious that they would find you standing with Tamlin. But he was no where to be seen, and you thanked him silently for the courtesy of having stepped away.

Rhysand and Feyre glided closer and closer, exchanging nods and accepting bows. And then they halted, violet eyes scanning before locking to yours, grey eyes shortly followed. And Rhys’s smile, the one that he used in the face of the public, it softened, his eyebrows twitching upwards almost unnoticeably. 

Feyre’s hand gripping at his arm tighter, and you could hear her heart fasten from where you stood. You almost resented how in-tune you were to them, these micro-behaviours. 

Glancing between them both, you followed the order of those next to you, lowering yourself to a polite curtsy. 

They couldn't reach you, not without drawing attention, not without the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests. So with a nod from Rhys, and a soft smile from Feyre, they continued on, finding their seats in the queues. 

————

Cresseida was the most beautiful bride you had ever seen. Golden vines were cuffed along her arms, as a silk gown as white as her hair trailed behind her as she walked the aisle, Tarquin proudly at her side. 

You smiled through your tears as she was married. You were happy for her– you were happy –you were… An unmarketable emotion filled you as you couldn’t help the run of tears that continued to pour, even after the ceremony ended. 

————

“And is it true that you were able to help the children at the border?” questioned one of Tarquin’s emissaries as she leaned in, raising her voice over the music. 

The party was in full swing, food had been served and hundreds of fae drank and danced, celebrating Creseida’s courtship, each of them eager to get even a glimpse at the bride and groom. 

“Yes, we were lucky to have an experienced healer join the mission, and she was already aiding some of the fae in Spring.”

The female smiled, and squeezed your arm. “On behalf of my court, we are grateful.”

“Not at all,” you smiled back. “Your authorities were notified, and from what I heard your own healers were already on their way. We were simply closer to that area, and had supplies to spare.”

It had been hours, and your company was still in high demand as endless Summer Court members were eager to meet you. Tarquin, it seemed, had been spreading you just as much praise as Tamlin. You had danced with many, exchanging jokes and stories, enjoying the festivities with some familiar faces and many new ones. 

It was a struggle to keep your eyes from averting, your instinct to find Rhys and Feyre in the crowd was loud and stubborn. Old habits, you supposed. 

Tamlin approached you then, having made himself scarce from your company for most of the evening, something you both had agreed to do. But you were comforted by his presence as he easily slid into the conversation, slipping a glass of fae wine into your hand without even asking. You smiled, giving his shoulder a thankful squeeze. 

There was an itchy, uneasy feeling that tugged at you, and you knew you were under watchful eyes. You found them, surrounded by their own acquaintances, and while Rhys masked his curiosity perfectly, Feyre’s stare bored into you from across the dance floor. 

Taking a large sip of wine, you let it warm you as you squared your shoulders. You would not cower, you would not shy away. And now was a better time than any.

So you strode directly to them, Feyre’s stare softening as Rhys pardoned himself from his conversation. Then, they were walking towards you to. 

You stopped a few paces shy from each other. Staring. It was…. awkward. 

But then Rhysand smiled. Warm and genuine and familiar. You hoped he didn't hear your silent curse to him. 

“You look well,” he said. 

You nodded, acknowledging the half-compliment, sensing their relief. No, you weren't that broken withered girl you were when you left. 

“How is Nyx?” The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them. You would have been more annoyed at yourself, but your care for that child was pure, and you knew they would never withhold him as currency. 

“He’s well, growing every day,” Feyre replied. “And walking all on his own.”

Your smile, be it small, was sincere. 

“He still… asks about you,” she added. 

Pain sliced through your heart then, and you weren't quick enough to hide it in your face. “Don’t,” you whispered, your voice strained. Gods, that didn't take long.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quickly, hands reaching out before she quickly drew them back in. “I didn't mean–“ she cut herself short, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

You cast your eyes to the side, blinking away the sting of tears. “It’s alright.”

Rhysand watched you intently. “Perhaps we can all use some fresh air? I spotted a terrace, free from other guests.”

The choice was yours, you knew that. You had things you wanted to say, and you were sure they did to. You nodded, following their lead as you quickly cast a look backwards, Tamlin offering you a tight nod as you left the room.

————

“So, mission work in Spring?” Rhys asked, wine swirling in his hand as he leaned casually against a column, warm summer breeze surrounding the three of you as the party continued faintly below. 

You nodded, your arms crossed at your chest. 

“It’s very impressive,” Feyre added from where she sat, offering a genuine smile. 

You didn't respond, unsure of how much detail to reveal. Rhysand caught on, sighing slightly. 

“We didn't bring you here to interrogate you for detail, It’s only that your work and whereabouts is quickly becoming widespread knowledge. We thought it was best to acknowledge that we know it too.”

“And what of Cassian and Azriel?”

“We have held true to our bargain on that.” You believed him. 

There was an award silence, unasked questions looming. 

“Are you safe there?” Feyre asked quietly.

“Very much so.”

“And Tamlin is–”

“A friend,” you said quickly. 

“– respectful to you, was what I was going to ask,” Feyre said with a knowing look.

You sighed then, running a hand through your hair. “I didn't do it to hurt you,” you said, with a straight face. You owed her no allegiance, but, you were done hurting others, and her concern did no one any good. 

“I know,” Feyre acknowledged, with the grace of a High Lady, of someone who knew that the past was the past. She shook her head then, before adding. “We worry for you, that is all.”

“He’s changed.” You were shocked at how quickly those words left your mouth. 

It was Rhys who threw you a condescending look. You hated how small it made you feel. 

“Look, I appreciate your warning, but Tamlin has shown strides of growth, he has acknowledged his mistakes and is working endlessly to undo them. When was the last time you looked within yourselves?”

Rhys flashed his eyes at you with warning, bringing an arm to comfort his wife. “Careful,” he said plainly, but a flash of darkness passed through those violet eyes. 

Damn him. And damn Feyre too. “You didn’t so much as try to stop them,” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears as you focused on her. Gods damn it – you thought you were past this, past them. But it was as if a year away meant nothing, you were just as hurt as that night you left the Night Court. Feyre watched with a pain expression as your lip wobbled. “And you didn't so much as try to apologise,” you whispered, your voice moments away from breaking. 

Feyre’s eyes now glistened with the same tears. “You shut us out,” she countered, and you could see how much your own choices had wounded her.

“What choice did I have?” you asked, brushing away a stray tear. “You think I want to be this way? You think I wanted to cast myself out? You broke my trust and lied to me, alienating me from this family. And I was supposed to come to you for an apology?”

Feyre gulped guiltily, looking at the floor. Rhys watched you intensely, a concerned frown on his face. 

“You’re right,” Feyre said quietly, grey eyes now finding yours. “But you must know Y/N, I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since the day it happened. I thought it wise for Azriel and Cassian to want to protect you, but I realised very quickly how it was that kind of thinking that trapped me within warded walls,  and that had me fleeing my home all those years ago.”

You nodded, casting your eyes upwards to not let the tears stain your face yet again. “We can't keep doing this.”

“What’s that?” Rhys asked gently. 

“This,” you gulped, waving your hands between you. “These sorry confessions and apologies, it hurts us all.”

“Alright,” Rhys said neutrally. “But you acknowledge our apology?’

“Yes.”

“Do you forgive us?”

Your lips pressed tight as you grimaced. 

“That would be a no,” Rhys said sadly, his smile broken. Feyre couldn't force one if she wanted to. 

“I want us to move forward,” you offered instead. “There is no use in resentment. It may be that we’ll continue to cross paths, and it is important to me that you know I will not respond illy.”

“Of course,” Feyre nodded, smiling. 

A sharp pain throbbed at your temples then, the kind that came about when you had to keep your emotions and powers under tight strain. It was instinct to rub at your temples. 

“Can I heal that for you?” Rhys was now standing in front of you, his smile remained but his eyes – heavy, saddened. 

You blinked up at him before flicking your eyes to Feyre who waited eagerly for you to respond. Was this a test? Could it be, after all that had happened, you could consider them just…friends? You searched within yourself for the right answer, but nothing came about. It was just too soon. 

But there was no harm in letting Rhys work some of his magic. “Alright,” you replied, and you heard Feyre loose a breath. 

Rhysand’s hands cupped the side of your face, his fingers pressing to your temples as the familiar feeling of him slipping into your mind sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in you, something impossible to kill that was comforted by his touch. He was, after all, your High Lord of decades. He had been your home, your family, and maybe there was some part of that would always remain. It upset you how much you had to resist the urge to wrap your arms around his waist, to pull Feyre in too, to sob of how much you missed home, your family, how much you ached while you were apart. 

It was over as quickly as it began, Rhys slipping from your mind, leaving no trace of a headache behind. You hadn't clocked that you had closed your eyes, your lip quivering as your cheeks were now wet with tears. Rhys kept his hands on your face, brushing them away. 

“Y/N–,” he said softly, his face pained. You knew what he would say – come home, even if you hate us, come home. But you wouldn't give him a chance. 

“T-thank you,” you stammered, pulling away from Rhysand’s hold and fleeing the terrace, leaving the two to their shock. 

————

You were brushing away hot, fast tears as you fled the wedding, racing towards your guest room. 

Gods, what was wrong with you today? You hated feeling like this – an unstable, blubbering mess. Nothing had changed in a year, not really. You were still the same, broken and alone. It hurt just as much to see your family now. 

To hell with this wedding. You craved a sleep tonic and to be rid of this night. That was when Tamlin fell into side-step with you. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked simply, muttering the words to avoid drawing attention as you passed through the crowd. 

“No,” you managed to say, and you could have kissed him for playing into the nonchalance. He seemed to respect privacy, even when there was little to be found. 

“I’ll walk you to your rooms.”

“No, Tam, I’m fine, you should–”

“Nonsense,” he replied, and you knew you wouldn't shake him. So you walked to your room,  sniffing through your tears as you tried to calm the current brewing at your fingertips, Tamlin by your side.

You reached your quarters, a private corner in a long corridor or rooms. The door was carved in  unique artwork, familiar somehow, as if beckoning you to enter from within. 

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” he said with an unconvinced look. 

“I will be, Tam, thank you.” 

You gave his hand a quick squeeze, before turning the handle to the door. 

And made it two paces in, before shadows filled your vision. 

————

You swore as strong hands held your shoulders, blue siphons a blur as shadows cast around you. You fought on instinct, but it was impossible to shake Azriel’s grip. 

“What in Mothers name–?!” you cursed again. 

“You’re safe,” Azriel spoke with relief. Despite yourself, your skin ignited at the husk of his voice.

“Get your damn hands off me,” you gritted, taking in the room as the smog of shadows finally cleared. 

Cassian was between you and the door, where Tamlin still stood, completely stunned. The General’s hands quickly curled into fists.

No one moved, each of you just as shocked to see the other. They had come for you, yes, but you were certain Tamlin was an unpleasant surprise. 

“Fuck,” you ground out, almost rolling your eyes as you knew the strife that now awaited your friend. 

Azriel moved you behind him, as if you needed to be shielded, protected. “What are you doing here, traitor?”

“Let her go at once,” Tamlin growled, stepping into the room. 

You stepped out from behind Azriel, your mind reeling at the sight of the two Illyrians in you room. You hated them, but something in you churned - a yearning. It was easy to stamp down as a rage took over. 

“What are you doing here?” you countered.

Azriel gave you a piercing look, running his eyes down your body. There was love in that look, but a sternness too. 

“Answer me,” you ground out. 

Cassian was still facing Tamlin, his siphons so bright they radiated heat. “Did you hurt her?” he growled at Tamlin, a shaking rage consuming him. 

“You hunted me? Like a mare?” your voice was ice cold, colder than any of these males could ever hope to perfect. Your trust, betrayed, again. 

That voice snared their attention. Cassian casting a look back at you, desperate, like he wanted to give you all of his time, to never stop drinking in the sight of you. 

You prowled closer, fingers twitching as your power grew so strong zapping could be heard. “Rhys’s promise to me, the bargain. You broke it,” you spat.

“Y/N.” Cassian said your name, begging you. His pain cut through to you, your power dampening as a sick, sick part of you folded at his plea. Go to him, that part of you begged. 

The room was filled with a sharp coldness and breeze as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into your quarters, Feyre’s face one of shock, Rhys’s one of fury. 

“What in Gods name are you doing here?” he growled at his brothers. 

“You left us no choice,” Azriel seethed back at Rhys, his wing stopping you as you silently moved to join Tamlin. 

You glared at him. “Try that again,” you growled. 

Azriel’s eyes were dark, predatory, but his brows pulled with a softness only reserved for you. “I do not trust him.”

“And I do not trust you,” you spat back. 

“The promise,” Rhys growled, glaring between his brothers. 

“Y/N, we had no idea they had come,” Feyre spoke with a desperation that you had to believe her. 

“Leave. Now.” Rhys ordered, but the males ignored him, his power underwhelming in another court. 

Cassian’s brow pulled, his face truly broken as he spoke to you. “You left us. And joined him?”

You snapped at the accusation. “I joined no one, because I belong to no one. I pursued a life beyond you, and I am a free female. Free to roam wherever I please, and fuck whoever I want.”

You words landed their mark, because both Azriel and Cassian recoiled.

And then Cassian’s face turned grave, as he slowly faced Tamlin again. “You-you touched her?”

You cursed yourself for the pointed insult – you should have known it would put Tamlin in the firing line. To his defense, Tamlin held a high chin. 

“She is a free female. Nor you or I can rob her of that.”

Azriel snarled, and Cassian was on Tamlin in an instant. 

“Stop that! Get off him! You will not hurt him!” you cried, broken at the thought of Tamlin being hurt because of you. 

But before you could throw yourself at Cassian, night magic filled the space, pulling the males apart, commanding the room to its master. And you were surprised to see Feyre walking towards them, her palms outstretched, night pouring from her as her eyes now glowed with silver. 

“Sensless violence ends now, I don’t care about the circumstance.” 

What did she mean by that?

“Leave,” Cassian snarled at Tamlin, but Tamlin held his ground. 

“He is welcomed to stay so long as Y/N sees fit,” Feyre spoke coldly, forcing Cassian’s eyes back to her. Now that, was a High Lady. “I can not believe you two–“

“You weren't invited?” you interjected, untrusting of your exes as you scowled between them. 

Rhys shook his head from across the room. “We went as far to hide the papers.”

You gulped as you stared up at Azriel. “Pray tell, how you found me, then?”

Azriel wore no remorse as he said “Amren – she possessed an invite and–”

Exasperated sounds from each of you filled the room. Amren, of course. She was the only one to know to play games above Rhys and Feyre’s head, and cunning enough to pull it off. 

“And what is your plan, then?” you added coldly. “Drag me back to the Night Court, kicking and screaming?”

“No, of course not,” Cassian responded softly, stepping towards you, stopping as you retreated back. “We had to know that you were safe.”

You stared at him, the sorrow in his voice, the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged. He was broken. 

“You were not well when you left, Y/N. It’s been killing us not knowing how you are faring now,” Azriel added, his eyes soft, looking just as worn as his brother. You knew he sang silently to his shadows as they coiled in on themself, they would be begging to reach you. 

“Please, don't be angry,” Cassian begged, his eyes welling. “We’ll go, we’ll go now, it’s just–”

“We love you. We- we need you,” Azriel interjected, his own brow clenched with pain. 

Each of their words were a dagger to your heart, piercing it’s way through the walls you had built. 

“Stop that,” you whispered, your hand pressing against your chest to ease the pain. Were these your feelings, or theirs?

“It’s true,” Cassian continued. “You’re our girl. We'll do better, Y/N, we promise. Please.”

It was painful to hear, and you faltered slightly as your body jerked in pain. Something was breaking within you, crumpling around something else, something buried deep. 

“Please Y/N, come home.”

Your knees gave out as you let out an anguished cry, your heart tearing and swelling to the point where you thought you just might die. 

“Y/N!” Tamlin called in panic, but Azriel and Cassian were already at your sides, holding you, asking where it hurt. 

Palms braced on the floor, you tried to breath through laboured breaths as you finally felt what was concealed for so long. It was unmistakable, a tether of sun-lit rope, tying you to the males at either side of you. You felt it all – their fear, the instincts to take you far from this place, their overwhelming, unconditional love. 

And you hated it. 

“No,” you gasped, your hand finding your heart as you tried to calm its pounding.

Azriel glanced at Cassian, who gave a single nod in confirmation. Feyre gasped from where she stood. 

“What is it?” Tamlin panicked. “What’s going on?”

“No!” you repeated, standing quickly and backing away from the two males. It couldn't be – you were free, you had left…

They watched you with saddened eyes at the horror that beheld you. 

“The Mother is cruel,” Rhys tutted, lowering his head in sympathy.

“What in the gods-forsaken realms is going on?” Tamlin yelled.

“No, no, no, no! Please, no!” You clutched at the roots of your hair, your mind reeling as you begged to no one. You were bound to them, whether you liked it or not. An enslavement of kinds.

“It snapped,” Feyre answered to Tamlin without ever turning his way.

It was too much to bare – their instincts, your newly ignited ones, their love, your hate. Your brain scrambled for sense, fighting itself over and over as you shook at your knees. 

A final ‘no’ pushed past your lips before your body gave out, the world tipping and your vision darkening as strong hands caught you. 

You succumbed to the gods damned mating bond. 

-------

Part 5>>>

AN: Helllllllllo my lovelies! I am so so bloody excited to share this part with you! It was a rollercoaster to write, hope you held on tight for this angst-train! Always, always, ALWAYS want to hear your thoughts and feelings on where this story is heading, so please drop a comment anytime. And thank you endlessly for your support with this fic - it means the world. MWA!!

[ghcstpyre]

john wick x f!reader

cw: cis female reader, slight dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!jw, sub!reader, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, praise kink. MINORS BEGONE!

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i am in a Mood™️ and was inspired to try and write a quick piece. also yes I am procrastinating everything because of animal crossing so this is also to try and get back into the swing of writing lol. enjoy!

Your cheek squished against the flat, cool surface of the rich mahogany desk. Sometime after settling down in John's private library with your usual dark fantasy romance and John following not long after to have a nosey at what you'd been reading, you'd ended up bent over the nearest desk with your skirt yanked up and bunched around your waist and your panties pulled to the side. Thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, keeping your willing body right where he needed it. You were doing your best to be quiet, as per his orders, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with each delicious inch he pushed inside you.

“John…” You whined, wiggling your hips under his iron hold in an attempt to coax his cock further inside you.

This only had John doubling his grip on you. The fingers that held your hips dug in further, hard enough to bruise and leave little crimson crescent moons in your skin. The pain didn't deter you though. It only had that unsatisfied ache pulsing within your centre flaring up tenfold.

“Shush, baby,” John's voice was low and gravelly and sent a thrill rushing down your spine. Really, it was almost pathetic how much of an effect just his voice had on you. “I told you to be quiet. You sure you can do that for me?”

He leaned over, pressing his muscled slab of a body against your back to nip at your earlobe. You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a whimper of need, just barely succeeding, and nodded.

“Good girl.”

John’s stubble grazed you and his long, dark hair tickled your skin as he pressed a tender kiss to your cheek and the weight of him lifted off of you. Whether it was out of mercy or pity - or both - John pushed the full length of his cock inside you in one swift motion. It took everything you had to not cry out in pleasure and pain as his tip kissed your cervix, filling you completely.

He watched as you struggled to keep any noises from escaping, his gaze heavy enough that you could practically feel it pinning you down to the desk just as effectively as his meaty hands. Seeing you in such a state of utter need while also being desperate to obey had his length throbbing inside you.

John set an unbearably slow pace, slow enough that it had you practically crawling out of your own skin. You so desperately wanted - no, needed him to to just fuck you, but instead it seemed he was determined to make sure you felt every vein and every inch, right up to the ridge where his swollen pink head met his shaft.

“Mmm, that's it, thaaaat's it.”

All you could do was lay there and take it without protest, however he wanted to give it to you. Your hands white knuckled the edge of the desk in front of you, serving as your anchor as you fought tooth and nail to keep any sounds of pleasure trapped behind your teeth. You knew that disobedience would result in punishment and you didn't really feel like being punished and degraded right now.

Right now, you wanted to be showered with praise. You wanted to be adored.

“You're being such a good girl for me. You want more?” He asked, relinquishing the vice grip he had on your hips in favour of smoothing those large, rough palms over the meat of your ass.

You didn't get a chance to nod. John was already parting your cheeks and chuckling deeply at the sight of his shaft, half buried in your soaking cunt and glistening with your slick arousal while the rest of it slowly dripped down your thighs.

“Look how wet you are for me. Of course you want more; you've already soaked my cock.”

With one hand he gripped one of your cheeks, while the other snaked up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulled on the strands, forcing you to lift your head up and prop your upper body up on your elbows and forearms as his hips finally, finally picked up the pace.

If you weren't struggling to stay quiet before, you sure as hell were now. John knew how you liked to be rocked, what the perfect angle was to hit that sweet spot inside you that made you see stars. 

Tasting the tang of iron on your tongue you stopped biting your lip. You'd been so focused on keeping any noise at bay you hadn't even registered how hard your teeth were clamping down on the soft flesh while John pumped his huge cock in and out of you.

“You're doing so well for me baby, so well. Just a bit more and I'll - ngh - let you cum. I want to enjoy this sweet pussy a little longer.”

God, if his dick didn't push you over the edge then his words might just do it. Knowing that such a sweet, gentle man had the capacity to groan out words so filthy made that sick little part of you sing with glee.

The sounds of your rapid breaths mixed with his grunts of pleasure and skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls and echoed through the rows of bookcases filling John's library. Your legs began to shake as that familiar heat began coiling low in your abdomen. Sensing your building need, John let go of your hair and ass cheek to lean that glorious weight over you once again, propped up on one thick forearm while his other hand moved between your trembling legs to rub your neglected clit.

You keened into his heavenly touch and you couldn't stop a strangled little cry from escaping. You were quick to cut it off however, dropping your head to press your treacherous mouth into the inside of your elbow to muffle the noise. 

“That's my girl. You've been so good, do you want to cum? You want to cum for me? You want to be loud?” John's voice was practically dripping with honey as he whispered in your ear.

All you could do was lift your head again, look at him over your shoulder and nod pathetically while you rocked your hips back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“Cum.” He ordered, slamming into you with his fingers working relentlessly on your clit beneath you. “Cum on my cock baby. Scream for me.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

Your cries and sobs of pleasure drowned out anything else as you came, your pussy gushing over his length and thighs and the wooden floor beneath your feet while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. John wasn't too far behind, pressing his chest flush against your back to suck a dark bruise into the crook of your neck while he thrusted into you one, two, three more times, and then filled you with his seed with a loud, long groan.

Both of you stayed like that for a short while, catching your breath and begging to sober up from the lust-addled haze you were in just moments ago. Eventually, John lifted his weight from you and pulled out, letting his cum leak from your entrance. He took a few moments to run his hands up and down your back, soothing you as you came down from the high.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice returning to its usual deep, gentle lilt.

Somehow you managed to stand up and turn around to face him on your shaky legs. John was quick to wrap his arms around you to keep you steady. You were all too grateful, immediately leaning your weight against him and letting out a content sigh.

“Yeah. More than okay, I feel amazing.” You smiled up at him, cheeks rosy with happiness, and then nuzzled your face into his broad chest.

John chuckled, the baritone sound rumbling from within. “Good.” With a swift motion he scooped you up into his arms to carry you bridal style towards the door to the library. “Because I've not quite had my fill of you just yet.”

divider by @/strangergraphics

[titania-sleeps]

pleaseeee give me more human bloodbag yan x vampire reader :(( i love their angst

i was gonna post this yesterday but i fell asleep before i pressed post anyway i'm glad you enjoy it!! i wasn't sure how many people would like angst with their smut but it's one of my favorite flavors >:3

Like Dust (Sub!Bloodbag!Human!Yandere x Vampire!Reader)

more works featuring Dion: Dion Introduction, Wild Roses and Hawthorns

warning: nsfw, masturbation, messy feelings, minors DNI pls

Dion's day proceeds as normal. He greets you and the sun early in the morning, pushing the curtains aside and allowing the rays of sunshine to fall upon your form. When you awaken, every brush of his skin on your bare skin lingers for more than a second. He dresses you and you leave him for the remainder of the day.

When you are gone, he stands in your room for minutes. Minutes that turn into hours, and then he's suddenly on your sheets, his cheek pressing onto the silk of your pillowcase. Your pillow smells just like the locks of your hair he dreams of placing gentle kisses onto. He closes his eyes and inhales, your warm scent wrapping itself around him.

When he opens his eyes a second later, his breath shakes, and his hand trembles. His fingers trace the lace on your pillowcase, eyes lidded and pondering. If he were another vampire, perhaps you would take him along with you on all your trips. No, but if he were another vampire, you wouldn't feast on him as you do now.

He closes his eyes again, hand trailing down to his stomach, and then a little more. As his hand lazily sneaks its way beneath his waistband, he stifles a soft moan. Perhaps it is because he is surrounded by everything that belongs to you, but when he blinks, he sees a hazy blur that resembles your silhouette.

Dropping his free hand to cover his eyes, he opens his mouth and lets out an unfiltered cackle. Oh, how pitiful he is... like a lonely rabbit abandoned by its owner, hallucinating the presence of its master. He grabs his member with his hand, gripping it tightly.

At this moment, he can't help but let himself imagine the unforgivable. The thought that, in this very room, it could be you and him in this bed instead of him alone, and your hands on him instead of his own. What would your touch feel like? Maybe you'd be gentle with him, a graceful smile on your countenance as you bring him to the pinnacle of his pleasure. Or maybe you'd be like a blessing from the hells, skillfully bringing him to the edge only to push him back into his abyss of yearning and endless wanting.

His hand begins to move before he is conscious of it. It strokes lightly up his length first and he chokes back a licentious groan. He is blinking and in every empty moment, he forms you in his mind. His hand is your hand, and suddenly it's you that is caressing him so harshly, so softly.

"Ngh... Ah..." he whimpers, as the pace of his hand quickens in his underwear.

You are there, ever so clear, your cold demeanor clashing with the ghost of a loving smile dancing on your lips. You're so cruel; he knows that you do not hate him, so why do you act so distant? He can convince you that what he feels isn't a byproduct of some mystical vampiric bonding. So please, just give him a chance to prove to you that he is full and genuine in his emotions for you. If you'd let him, he would bring all that is golden to your feet. He would eliminate all silver in the world for a simple, fleeting glance of acknowledgment.

His hips buck into his hand and he gasps, saliva pooling on your pillowcase and precum leaking onto your pristine sheets. He pauses only for a moment and then giggles escape his throat. He wishes you were here to admonish him for his greediness. Perhaps you would give him a slap to his cheek, letting it blossom in red, and then bite him to punish him for his wrongdoings. Just the thought has him whining.

In a swift movement motivated by desperation, he foregoes his pants and presses his bare cock against the cotton of your bedding. This bed has touched your bare skin; it has enveloped your vessel with its meager softness. He clutches the sheets in his hand, bringing them to his nose as he grinds against them.

Dion moans, his hips uncontrollable and his will unwavering. Your name slips out his mouth several times, but he doesn't correct himself. In this room, there is only him and your presence. When he moans your name, he dedicates every syllable to you, his eternal master. He thrusts into the sheets, his mind dreamily trailing to the thought of being wrapped in your warmth. He doesn't dare to explore the possibility for too long, however, because he loves you too dearly to bastardize the vision of you. But he can't help himself to just imagine... imagine for just another second what it would be like if you were caressing him with your body. If, instead of pleading for you, his skin can talk to your skin, and your mouths can kiss and bite in unison.

The air is thick with the scent of his sweat and your natural perfume, and he's staining the sheets with his audacity. With every precise thrust, he begs for you to return. Should you catch him at this very moment, you would surely be livid. And that anger is what he wishes to embrace with his naked form; every bruise, every puncture will be another trophy on his battle-worn body.

His breath hitches as he feels a familiar rush from the base of his cock rising to meet the tip. His nails dig into your bedsheets and his back arches. Closing his eyes, savoring the moment, he releases onto your pillow. He's shaking and quivering, bringing the pillow closer to softly grind onto it as he rides his climax out. He can only think of you, you, you, you. Your scent and his fluids mixing on the pillow, your sheets sullied by his immodesty, your eyes piercing into his guilty appearance.

And as though he were prophetic, he hears your footsteps outside your room, and the doorknob twists.

back to the kinktober grind, adonis and sea spirit are next on my to do list tho

-> masterlist

[plaguechyld]

Bro jst imagine Muzan n reader being like "enemies" but behind closed doors reader fucks the brat outta Muzan every night

oh this is hot...

for the type of enemy that the reader is r they like a demon that isn't under control of Muzan?? Maybe someone who was turned into a demon before him but has perfected all aspects of being a demon and is just op and better and that makes Muzan mad?? And they're also stronger than Muzan, maybe having some celestial abilities that totally overpower him... hmmm

And then they're also older than him (in human years), maybe around like 21-22? (Still can't believe Muzan is a 19 year old (almost 20 but still.) he looks at least 26-30) and they're invincible, right, (no sun damage cus of how they ingested the blue spider lily and therefore doesn't die to demon slayer blades)

ok ok sorry for the ramble now for the smut (gn!reader, brat taming, overstim, dick can be read as strap (i call it dick whether or not it's a real one lmao), afab muzan, a safe word exists but it's not reffed)

Muzan let out another shrill wail as you tightened your grip on his hips and pulled him back down on your dick, ramming into the poor demon's g-spot over and over again. Muzan arched his back yet again, legs wrapping around your waist and hands gripping onto your back. He clawed helplessly at you, a silent plea for you to slow down your brutal pace because he really, really couldn't take it. You ignored his cries and continued pounding the poor thing into the mattress, too annoyed by his previous brattiness to care.

"Hic- AHN!!~ P-pl- sl- Oh! dOWN!-" His speech is slurred and interrupted by his loud and desperate moans as you don't let up. Fat tears roll down his flushed cheeks as his eyes roll back in his head, feeling another orgasm swiftly approaching. His cunt tightened around you as he let out a scream, cumming on your cock for the nth time. His crying soon turned into sobs as you didn't slow down even after his nth orgasm.

"Did I give you permission to cum, brat?" You ask sharply, causing Muzan to tremble and cry more while burying his face in your neck. Your hands were still gripping his hips so tightly that had he been human, dark bruises would've been left on his skin for days to come. The demon below you began sputtering out apologies, moans and wails interrupting his speech.

" 'M sorry! 'M so sor- HNGAHH!!" He screamed as your hand went down and pinched his clit sharply, other hand also wandering and tugging harshly on one of his already swollen nipples. His eyes rolled back again while his body was overwhelmed with just too much stimulation. It really was too much for him to handle! The poor thing was sobbing and moaning his heart out while getting railed hard. His pussy throbbed with oversensitivity from what you were doing and his legs shook hard from the feeling of you slamming into him over and over again.

Despite his body's state, Muzan could feel another orgasm building which made him cry out even louder than before. You could tell that he was close by how much the demon was squirming around, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his face as he desperately tried to hold himself back, not wanting another punishment on top of everything else. You could feel your own stamina wearing thin as the two of you had been going at it for a while now so you decided to give him what he wants. You leaned in close so that your lips were brushing against the shell of his ear before giving him a clear command,

"Cum for me, darling." He didn't waste a moment of your mercy and came with another loud shout, squirting on your cock before collapsing against the bed, too tired to hold himself up any longer.

You hummed and pulled out of him delicately. Normally due to the two of you having the status of enemies and the fact Muzan always refused you, you could never tend to him after having sex. But now that he was so exhausted and fucked out all he wanted was comfort. So you cleaned him as best you could with a warm wet towel, knowing that he didn't want a bath at that moment. You then laid down next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and bringing him flush against your own body, lying a kiss on his forehead as he finally passed out.

[impish-baby]

Hey, could I have more HIWTHI content please? Possibly with them finding out reader would write in their journal a lot, possibly hinting towards reader having large amounts of self worth issues, and instead of them leaving because no one notices them, reader left because they feel like a burden?

I’m particularly interested in Marcus and the twins reacting.

Also, please make sure to take care of yourself. I love all of your writing, but no one will ever blame you for taking a break. Also, please stay hydrated.

-🌙

👀 close to something that would happen canonically actually!!

HIWTHI cast's reaction to reader's journal

(Trigger warnings: reader's struggles with self worth, mentioned/referenced suicide)

Marcus feels like a complete and utter failure as a father. No matter how cold or stern he is with his children, he does love all of them with everything in him. So the fact that you feel like a burden? That you felt like a waste of space in your own home? He hangs his head in shame.

Doesn't even bother with asking why you didn't speak up, he's well aware that this is his own shortcoming. It's his fault, that's the simple truth of the matter.

Once you are back home, you're required to start therapy. He'll even let you do in person instead of online if you promise to actually give it a shot, Marcus legitimately wants (needs) you to get better. He has no delusions of their being an overnight change, and so he tries to go at your pace.

There's lots of long conversations, firm reminders that you are loved and of value no matter what. Especially at night, he'll sit at the end of your bed and tell you how much you mean to him. He'd go on until he's blue in the face if that's what it takes for you to believe his words.

Clara refuses to believe what she's read for a long while. She knows it's real, she has the proof held in her hands. Just... her child, her baby, was struggling with almost the same thing she was. And she didn't know. She didn't know and now they're gone.

If she wasn't worried about reader before, she's actually terrified now. The worst outcome is going through her mind, because really, what was stopping you from doing something dangerous? Clara is constantly eyeing the news, fear eating her alive.

The next time she sees you, you're getting the tightest hug. The woman sobbing into your shoulder, thanking whatever higher being that her baby is safe.

You aren't allowed to have sharp objects, unportioned medication, or anything that could be used to harm one's self anymore. Clara doesn't care, she's not leaving a chance. She knows what it's like being in that state of mind. She'll be dammed if she doesn't start acting like a mother should and protecting her child.

Jack is bawling his eyes out right away. The pen ink in your diary smudging as his tears hit the paper. You...oh god..

He feels like the shitiest person on earth, he doesn't deserve to call himself an older brother. He knew Jaiden had his struggles, and now this..

He pockets the journal. Jack reads it as some form of punishment. You suffered with this, he'll suffer with it too. When you're back home, he's trying his best to include you in everything.

Movie nights, board games, he comes up with anything and everything so you can spend time together. See? He has fun with you, he likes hanging out with you, you aren't a burden..

Theo feels bitter, resentful. At your parents, at themselves, at the fact that you felt that way. His resolve to find you becomes ten times stronger, there isn't a single doubt in their mind that you need to come home.

Much like Marcus, they'll affirm how much you're loved and wanted any chance they get. Theo cages you in their arms and mumbles praises for what feels like forever. They'll even go into morbid detail about how everyone fell apart while you were gone just to prove how needed you are.

Jaiden is tempted to rip the pages out. He goes through a rollercoaster of emotions.

At first, he's pissed. That you didn't say anything, that you didn't do anything to get help, that you just sat there and felt fucking miserable for years-

He's ashamed. Deeply, deeply ashamed.

It feels.. awkward between you. Jaiden stares constantly, like he's never seen you before. When he finally breaks down sobbing, he's willing to beg at your feet if you'd forgive him for being such a horrible big brother