#exceptionally smutty

[fuzzygoblin]

Happy Birthday @gleafer! So, a bunch of us smutgoblins got together and wrote a fic for Gleafer, inspired by Gleafer… Happy Birthday to a GOAD legend. Go and support her on Patreon. This fic is rated E for Exceptionally Smutty. Interdimensional LeakageSummary Googling yourself, especially when you’re a celestial being, is rarely a good idea. But when dimensions bleed into each other, Crowley and Aziraphale get a glimpse into the creativity of the human mind. One human in particular and their astoundingly evocative art, inspire the angel and demon to commence a journey of discovery all about themselves.With thanks to our smutgoblin writers: @doonarose​ @fuzzygoblin​  @ghst-signal​  @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon​ @smitten-like-anything​ 

[koszmarnybudyn]

Wow i actually drew my ocs??? Crazy.. crazy indeed, anyway have some gay pirates that i created at twelve.

[sim0nril3y]

The Honeymoon

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Fun, fun, fun on the honeymoon, need I say more? Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), very soft, very fluffy, very smutty, p in v sex, honeymoon sex, breeding kink, wife kink all things good, feral Simon, canon-typical swearing.

You weren’t sure that you’d seen another time where Simon was more relaxed than on your honeymoon. Whilst the wedding had been exceptionally small and intimate, he’d spare no expense on the honeymoon. Mykonos, three weeks. There was a private beachside villa which also had the most amazing pool, Simon had hired a car for the time you’d be there, he’d organised everything perfectly. “Nothing less for my perfect wife.” He'd told you, railing into you passionately from behind as you gazed out over the balcony that first evening.

In ways that his sex-drive typically fluctuated back home, there was something about being here that seemed to send it sky high. Maybe it was all the beautiful beachy outfits that you were wearing, or maybe it was the way you lounged under the bathing sun, or maybe it was that ring that lay so prettily on your left hand now. It was official, you were his and he was yours and everyone fucking knew it. Whenever he’d see that piece of jewellery sparkling under the sun he had to have you, he was practically insatiable. It didn’t seem to matter where you were, lounging on a sunbed by the pool, walking through the streets home from dinner, even shocking you in a vineyard tour where he snuck you away into a nearby cupboard to have his way with you.

After an evening of good wine and even better food the two of you returned to the villa. You collapsed back onto the sofa, beginning to remove your strappy heels whilst Simon made himself busy pouring a couple more glasses of wine. “’ere, Mrs Riley…” He saunters towards you, looking mouth-watering in his thin linen shirt, very few buttons keeping it together now. “Thanks.” You say softly, throwing one shoe aside and accepting the glass from his hands as he took a seat on the artsy coffee table in front of you, carefully taking your other ankle into his hands and lifting, stroking your calf in a soothing way as you leaned back and let out a low sigh.

Those meaty fingers were so delicate as they began to untie the straps of your heel, unravelling them slowly. “Y’look a knockout, babe.” He mentioned, voice soft and eyes cast down to remove your shoe, pressing the pads of his thumbs into the arching arch of your foot causing a moan to pull from your throat. “Fuckin’ glowing…” He mentioned, you bit the inside of your cheek. “My beautiful fuckin’ wife…” Then those dark eyes drifted up your frame finally coming to a stop on your face. “Show ‘er to me.” Simon’s voice was a low drawl, needy having being away from your precious cunt for more than a few hours. “Si~” You purred. “Jus’ quick…”

Slowly you licked at your lips before being unable to fight your smile, fingers curling tightly around the hem of your dress before dragging it up to display your naked pussy to his hungry eyes. “No knickers?” His voice was dangerous low, eyes no longer on your own and watching your cunt, you shook your head. “All night?” Another shake whilst raising your leg to plant a foot on the sofa beside you, spreading yourself further to his wonting eyes. “Dirty fuckin’ girl…” Simon muttered. “Y’killing me here.”

A tender giggle pulled from your throat, leaning your head back, your left hand drifting down as two fingers traced over your cunt lips, spreading them, gliding across your slit and all the while your wedding ring gleamed and glistened. Simon watched, his mouth popped open just slightly, ragged breaths escaping. “Fuck me.” He whispered, watching eagerly as those two fingers sunk into your wanting walls. “Fuck~” You hiccupped softly.

Simon shuffled closer, watching as your fingers pressed in and out of your walls with a quiet ‘shlck, shlck, shlck’ all the while. “Good girl.” He breathed, falling to his knees, pressing a few wayward kisses to your thighs as he leaned close. “Pretty fuckin’ wife.” It seemed as if he was talking to himself, pushing down his trousers and his cock bobbing out, painfully hard, cum dripping from the tip. “Gonna let me fuck you?” He asked then, looking up at your pleasure filled face, brows pinched, breaths low and pulled from deep. “I know, I know. You wanna cum. Let me help.” His lips ghosted over the back of your hand as those fingers buried deep. “Let your husband help.”

To say that Simon was obsessed with calling you his wife and himself your husband was an understatement. It was beginning to sneak into almost every conversation, but especially in the throes of passion. Simon had you pressed into that sofa moments later, fucking you deep, calling you his pretty wife, his perfect wife, his beautiful wife, loving his wife’s beautiful cunt, feeding his wife her husband’s cock because she needed it. God, if it didn’t drive you wild too. There was something so unhinged yet so tender about it all that really made you both crave it.

And when he finished there was a promise on his lips. “Knock you up.” It was a faint growl but you heard it clear as day and you wished for his words to come true. He pumped you full, seated inside of you for a good long while as if allowing his seed more time to truly take hold, but during that time his words were sweet and his lips were warm against your skin, whispering the most beautiful and endearing things.

This was the place you wanted to stay forever, this was the Simon you always wanted to love.

Masterlist | Ask | 26-05-2024

[little-jana]

"Only One Bed"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Genre: heated, fluff

Warnings: a little smutty, kissing, one bed trope, touching, kinda fade to black smut, nothing explicit

Words:

Summary: One Bed trope with Aaron after a long case. Hehe.

It all started with a storm. A violent, unrelenting storm that grounded flights and forced the BAU to hole up in a small-town motel for the night. We’d just wrapped up a grueling case, and everyone was drained—physically, emotionally, and mentally. All I wanted was a hot shower, a warm bed, and maybe a few hours of blissful, dreamless sleep.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

“Three rooms. Thats all we've got for tonight.” The desk clerk handed over the keys with a sheepish look, as though he knew the chaos he was about to unleash.

Hotch turned to us, his sharp gaze scanning the team. “Looks like we’ll have to pair up.”

I tried to blend into the background, hoping to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of sharing a room with someone. But when Hotch’s eyes landed on me, I froze.

“You’re with me,” he said, his voice as calm and authoritative as ever.

My stomach flipped. It wasn’t that I minded sharing a room with Hotch—it was just… well, Hotch. The stoic, untouchable leader of the BAU. The man who could silence a room with a single glance. Sharing a room with him felt more intimidating than comforting.

“Of course,” I said quickly, forcing a smile as he handed me one of the keys.

The room was small but clean, with a single queen-sized bed dominating the space. My heart sank.

“One bed,” I muttered under my breath, the irony of the situation not lost on me.

Hotch stood in the doorway, his lips pressed into a thin line as he surveyed the room. He seemed just as perturbed as I was, though he hid it well.

“I’ll take the floor,” he said, already shrugging off his suit jacket and reaching for one of the spare pillows.

“Absolutely not,” I argued, crossing my arms. “You’ve been running on fumes for days, and I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue. But then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “We can share,” he said simply, as though it was the most logical solution in the world.

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Right. Of course. That’s… fine. We're bith adults, we can share.”

We moved around the room in near silence, each of us trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy despite the growing tension. I slipped into the bathroom to change, my heart pounding as I debated whether or not I’d survive the night without embarrassing myself.

When I emerged, Hotch was sitting on the edge of the bed, his tie and jacket neatly draped over the chair in the corner. He was wearing pajama pants and a grey shirt.

Hotch looked up at me, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, I felt completely exposed.

“Ready for lights out?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

He nodded, sliding under the covers and leaving plenty of space between us. I climbed in carefully, lying stiffly on my side of the bed, the distance between us feeling both too much and not enough.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence.

“Goodnight,” I replied, staring up at the ceiling.

I thought sleep would come easily after the exhausting day we’d had, but my mind refused to quiet. Every shift of the mattress, every brush of fabric as he moved, had my heart racing.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard him sigh. “You’re not asleep, are you?”

I rolled onto my side to face him, the dim light casting soft shadows across his features. “No. You?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. There was a pause, and then, “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t,” I said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. His gaze flicked to mine, and I felt my cheeks heat. “I mean, it’s not ideal, but… it’s fine. Really.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression softening. “You’ve been handling this case exceptionally well,” he said, his voice low. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

The unexpected compliment caught me off guard. “Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re a valuable part of this team,” he continued, his tone earnest. “I don’t think I say that enough.”

My chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. “That means a lot, Hotch. Really.”

“Aaron,” he corrected gently.

“What?”

“You can call me Aaron,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The intimacy of his first name felt strange but welcome. “Okay… Aaron.”

His expression changed at the sound of his name on my lips.

The air between us shifted, the tension morphing into something warmer, something almost tangible. His gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer before he rolled onto his back, exhaling softly.

“You should try to get some rest,” he said, his voice quieter now, creating a distance again.

“Yeah,” I murmured, turning onto my back as well.

Minutes passed, and just as I felt sleep beginning to pull at me, his voice broke the silence again.

“Thank you,” he said, so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

“For what?”

“For trusting me. For being here.”

My heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone. Without thinking, I reached across the small expanse of the bed, my fingers brushing his. He hesitated for only a moment before his hand shifted, his fingers intertwining with mine.

I turned toward him again, the proximity between us closing as though some unseen force was pulling us together. “Aaron…” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“Say that again.”

My breath hitched. “Aaron.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his face hovering just inches from mine. “What?” he asked softly, his dark eyes searching mine.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” I admitted, my words spilling out in a rush. “And not just as my boss. I shouldn’t feel this way, but—”

In an instant, the distance between us disappeared. His hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he pulled me closer. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was anything but tentative. It was hungry, demanding, like months of unspoken feelings had finally reached a boiling point.

I gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine. Heat pooled low in my belly as his hand slid to the back of my neck, tilting my head to deepen the angle.

My hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt. He was warm, solid beneath my touch, and I wanted more. I slid my hands upward, skimming over the defined muscles of his shoulders, feeling the way they flexed as he shifted closer.

His body pressed against mine, his weight pinning me to the mattress in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. I arched into him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his mouth left mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline and down the curve of my neck.

“Aaron,” I breathed, my hands tangling in his hair as he nipped lightly at the sensitive skin just below my ear.

His name on my lips seemed to unravel him. He groaned, his hand sliding down my side, fingers brushing the bare skin just beneath the hem of my shirt. His touch was fire, and I couldn’t stop myself from pressing closer, needing to feel him, all of him.

“You have no idea,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with desire. “No idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

I tugged his face back to mine, capturing his lips in another heated kiss. “I think I do,” I whispered against his mouth.

His hand slid to my waist, gripping me firmly as he shifted his hips against mine. The friction sent sparks shooting through me, and I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Aaron,” I whispered again, my voice trembling with both need and disbelief.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his forehead resting against mine. His dark eyes searched mine, and I saw something raw, something unguarded in his gaze. “We shouldn’t…” he started, his voice barely audible.

“Don't stop,” I replied, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

His resolve broke, and he kissed me again, harder this time, his hands roaming, exploring, claiming. I melted into him, letting the storm outside fade away until there was nothing left but us.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing heavily, his forehead rested against mine. His eyes searched mine, his expression raw and unguarded.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion.

“Me too,” I whispered, my hand still resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm.

He leaned down, brushing another kiss against my lips—this one slower, softer, but no less intense. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination.

I nodded, my heart swelling at the promise in his words. “We will.”

And as he pulled me into his arms, the storm raging outside seemed to quiet, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the unspoken possibilities of what was to come.

[ronearoundblindly]

For the every Cevans character, what is each one’s favorite position in bed? 😏😆

Fac-i-na-ting. I have categorized them into similar positions and then broken down the specifics or variations. No, I do not know the actual names of a lot of positions. I use the terms 'top' and 'bottom' but NOT in a BDSM way.

Sincerely, MINORS DNI. Warnings for very smutty descriptions of each of these characters 'in the act' and just...do I need to warn you about how much I was sweating during this???

'Top' Positions

Curtis Everett - Jimmy Dobyne - Steve Rogers - Ransom Drysdale - [Bucky Barnes]

Curtis is a cramped-quarters kind of lover, like you have been fucked up the bed until you and he are pressed against that headboard like a pretzel on a baking sheet. Gahdamn, he is intense. He threads an arm beneath you to make sure you're as close as possible. He grinds his pelvis into you, loving how his balls slap your ass. He likes it real sweaty, but he'll help you clean up in the shower, too. Dirty boi. 😮‍💨 We need him.

Jimmy and Ransom like you bent over but in different ways. Ransom just enjoys doggie-style. He feels awkward with too much eye contact and doesn't have to worry about that from behind. Jimmy is exceptionally good at spontaneously pressing you back or down onto a counter or the couch or perhaps a fence outside. 😳 He's oddly into fucking with at least some clothes on, but not because he doesn't like your body. He has a thing for choosing sex over chores or other obligations, so he and you are dressed for doing whatever else. It's just a little naughtier that way.

Steve is--I'm sure we can all agree--a missionary man. He looooves that eye contact Ran is so afraid of, but BUT! Steve's also a most considerate gentleman. He worries about putting too much of his weight on you, so his actual favorite position in pinning you against a wall (or mirror or window, etc) because he can lean into you without fear. He also enjoys that you get very, very excited for him to hold you up like that. You wrap around his neck and kiss him like it's your purpose in life. You get handsy, and that's about his favorite part...

[I know you said CE characters, nonnie, but Bucky just sneaks in, sorry!]

Ngl, Bucky took me the longest to figure out, and I'm not entirely sure he has a true 'favorite,' something he likes a good deal more than other positions. I have, however, landed on Bucky going braindead and gooey inside when he gets you in a mating press. There's, uh, a symbolism to wanting him and his cum inside you for as long as possible that hits all the right buttons to shut him down to the rest of the world for a while. He likes to sit back afterward and grip your knees to keep you right there until some drips out as you clench around nothing. You aren't empty though.

[Why. the fuck. does Bucky always get so 🥵 in these?]

'Bottom' Positions

Johnny Storm - Jake Jensen - Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd lets himself be lazy. He legitimately tucks his hands behind his head like he's at the beach and taunts you to work harder. He's so used to ordering people around and being quite active. Unless he has some aggression/frustration to work through, Lloyd needs to not be bothered with effort. It's your turn. Put your back into it.

Jake lets you control everything. Let's be fair: Jake is just happy to be here, ya know? He gets to be naked, he gets to see you naked, and he is going to come no matter what. Use him to your heart's content. Don't try telling him not to touch you (like an order or a deprivation game) because he can't stop himself. Every other order or request, he's game for, but on his back offers the best view of you--and technically, his glasses fog less 😬.

Johnny straight up loves when you ride him. He controls everything from below, though, because it's not actually about you taking over. He loves guiding your hips. He loves fucking up into you. He loves already being prone to fall asleep faster. [Go on, try to tell me I'm wrong. ::listens:: ::crickets:: Yeah, that's what I thought.] It's a win-win-win situation. All around cannot fail to please him. Johnny is definitely the type to assume that what feels good to him feels as good for his partner.

'Side' Positions

James Mace - Ari Levinson

Mace technically changes positions so much it maybe doesn't count as 'side,' but he's so playful, I'll allow it. His favorite sex, in general, is filled with natural ebbs and flows, quicker frantic times as well as soft doting and sweet, blissful enjoyment. A position that puts either him and you a hair's breath away from taking over is ideal. He wants to enjoy your company as much as your body. Mace can do both of those things in many, many different positions.

[Mace is quickly becoming a sleeper-fave of mine, my gawd. He's 😘🤌]

Finally, if Ari doesn't scream "wants to wake up fucking you," I don't know who does. He's spooning you, or coiled together with you someway, and just...ready when he sees you first thing in the morning--or in the middle of the night. Why bother moving much? He'll lift that leg up for you. He'll wrap around you to cup your breasts, play with your nipples, and rub your clit. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Doesn't have to do with the position you're in, per se, but Ari also gruffly whispers other shit he'd like to do to you in your ear. It's vaguely easier to do that when your heads are on the same pillow, just saying.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would..." Asks; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I successfully scheduled a post! Look at me, learning and shit...

[bellaxgiornata]

Comfortable Here in the Chaos 2:| It's the Heat

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!friends with benefits!Reader Word Count: 3.9k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; shameless smut, friends with benefits, semi-public sex, slight spanking, the dangers of sundresses, Jax being a menace, slightly rough sex

Summary: With how hot it'd been in Charming all week, you'd been wearing sundresses to help survive the heat at work. But for the past few days, you'd also been teasing Jax in them, and today he'd finally had enough.

a/n: There was so much love on the first part of this 'series' that I literally wrote this one on the same day. And I...may have made an entire list of smutty thots I've had about Jax to fuel some other ones of these if y'all really are enjoying them quite that much, so don't be afraid to let me know. Because I am happy to give y'all more filthy Jax thots of mine. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Jax Teller one shot tag list: @kmc1989 @steviebbboi @bear-ink @secretlysamcro @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @bonnyclydecat @nutellajade @aria725

“Dammit, Chuckie,” you muttered to yourself.

Running a hand across your forehead, you were hunched over the desk in Teller-Morrow Automotive, your eyes focused on the papers scattered in front of you. Nothing was adding up correctly, so it appeared you'd be spending this afternoon trying to fix the error Chuckie had made earlier when you’d left for your lunch break. Something that happened frequently whenever Gemma disappeared and left him in charge during your breaks, or on the Saturdays you didn't work.

And it only meant more work for you.

Sighing in frustration, you pushed your chair away from the desk and stood up, walking around it and over to the filing cabinet in the corner of the office. The fabric of your sundress lightly brushed along your thighs with each step, the soft material skimming just above the tops of your knees. With how exceptionally hot it had been this week in Charming, you’d chosen to wear a sundress to work for the past three days just to survive the unbearably suffocating stale hot air while working in this office. And even that hadn't offered you much relief.

Reaching a hand out, you opened the drawer of the filing cabinet, your eyes scanning the row of labeled folders inside as the noise of the auto shop filled the air around you–your usual background noise while you worked. Bending over, your fingers lightly ran over the tops of each folder as you surveyed Gemma's handwriting in search of what you were looking for. After a minute you found the folder, both of your hands pulling it apart to look inside. Except it was completely empty.

Great, so he’d also mis-filed the paperwork now, too. 

This little error was now going to take a lot longer for you to fix, and that thought alone annoyed you further. You had inventory to order before your shift ended–new parts that Bobby had given you a list of just this morning. You didn’t have time to play Where Did Chuckie Put the Paperwork This Time. 

“How am I supposed to get anything done with you in here like this?”

Startling at the sound of Jax’s voice, your head whipped over your shoulder from where you were bent over the opened filing drawer. Jax was leaning against the closed door that led to the garage on the opposite end of the small office, his arms crossed over his chest. There was a slight flush to his cheeks from having been out in the heat, but your eyes quickly focused on the veins in his forearms. Briefly your mind flickered back to the memory from a week ago, when you were face down on his dorm bed at the clubhouse as he fucked you into the mattress, the only thing in your line of sight being those enticing veins along his strained muscles. 

But as your eyes shifted back up to his face, you became completely aware of Jax’s own gaze lingering along your ass where you were bent over. His bottom lip rolled back between his teeth in clear appreciation of it, his eyes not even bothering to leave the round curves that were on display. The look on his face told you exactly where his mind was, and suddenly yours was no longer on the situation Chuckie had created anymore.

“What do you mean, Jackson?” you asked coyly, still looking over your shoulder at him.

Uncrossing one of his arms, he gestured a hand at you. “You. Dressed like this. All goddamn week,” he answered. “It’s distracting as hell and you damn well know it.” 

Grinning, you returned your attention to the filing cabinet, rifling through a few more folders. Not that you were looking for anything anymore, but he didn't know that. You just liked the way his eyes were on you right now and you wanted to keep them there.

“Don't know what you're talking about, Jax,” you replied, pretending to sort through the folders. “It's just been so hot this week, figured I'd be more comfortable in a dress.”

“Bullshit.”

Your grin grew wider at his response before you purposefully pushed your hips further out, giving him a prime view of your ass. The hem of your dress inched up at the movement, baring more of the back of your thighs as it came dangerously close to the bottom of your ass.

The sound of a lock clicking met your ears, your brows drawing curiously together. Just as you glanced back over your shoulder to see what it was, you saw Jax had moved from his place against the door. He must have locked the one leading into the garage, because now he was closing the blinds on the window that overlooked it.

“And what do you think you're doing, Jax?” you asked him.

He casually sauntered over towards the other door in the office next, flipping the lock on it with that same, quiet click. His lips curled up into a smirk as he continued to watch you slightly straighten in front of the filing cabinet. 

“Giving us some privacy, baby,” he answered easily, voice smooth and even.

Your eyes tracked him across the office, watching as he closed the blinds on the window that overlooked the parking lot next. It didn't take you much longer to realize what he was getting at after that.

“Jax,” you began, standing fully upright again as he slowly made his way around the desk and back over towards you. “I'm in the middle of work.”

“Yeah,” he answered, that smirk not leaving his face as he nodded. “I can see that, darlin’. But it kinda looks like you could use a break.”

Your arms crossed over your chest now, the gesture drawing Jax’s gaze down to the way you had just created more cleavage for him to stare at. The look that crossed his eyes–one filled with obvious desire and want–had your body instantly reacting. 

“Can't have my favorite office girl getting too overworked,” he continued, a teasing lilt to his words.

Slowly, his gaze traveled up from the scoop neckline of your dress to eventually meet yours again. A tension filled the already sweltering office, the heat of it only making your mouth run dry. Jax reached a hand out, crossing the space between you both before the tips of his index and middle finger lightly traced the length of your jawline down to your chin, the gentle caress an extreme juxtaposition to the look of sheer lust in his eyes.

“You're already lookin’ a little stressed, baby,” he continued, the words far softer now. “But maybe I could help with that.”

His thumb brushed over your plush bottom lip before his hand changed its trajectory. His fingers leisurely slid down the column of your throat, his eyes following the path of them as they traveled down over the swell of your breasts. Breath coming in sharper, your lips parted as his large hand paused, taking its time kneading your left breast as his throat visibly bobbed with his own hard swallow. The heat from his palm deliciously traveled through both the fabric of your dress and bra, the feel of it causing wetness to pool between your thighs.

Eventually his hand continued its descent, traveling its way down along your ribcage as a slight shudder ran through you. When he slipped it around towards the dip in your lower back, only then did his focus shift from his hand and back up to you, the faintest hint of a smirk returning before his entire palm landed on the soft curve of your ass. Giving it a firm squeeze, he simultaneously tugged you forward towards himself.

“You realize the garage is open right now, right?” you whispered.

His tongue darted out, running over his lip as that smirk grew into a grin. “Yeah,” he answered.

Jax’s hand slid down your ass, making its way up beneath the thin fabric of your dress. A soft groan passed between his lips as his rough palm skimmed over your bare ass, taking his time appreciating the flesh beneath his fingers. His eyebrows rose back at you, that grin deviously spreading wider.

“That a thong, darlin’?” he questioned. 

“Jackson.” 

His name came out with a scolding note, which only had an amused huff falling from him as his hand continued to roam over your bare ass beneath the dress. Both of you knew that you weren’t going to resist him in the end, but you still felt like someone needed to have some semblance of rationality.

“It’s hot as shit in here and there’s a garage full of mechanics and Sons just past that wall,” you pointed out, emphasizing your words with a sharp gesture towards the garage. “This is hardly the time and place.”

“And yet–” 

Jax tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing contemplatively as his hand left your ass. Moving beneath the fabric of your dress, his fingers slipped over your hip and fell between your thighs. Taken by surprise, a soft gasp slipped out of you when you felt him cup you over your panties. The moment he slid his fingers gently back and forth just the once, he grinned at you triumphantly–like he’d just found what he was looking for.

“You’re wet, baby,” he told you. 

His hand slid out from beneath your dress, the material left awkwardly bunched up along your thighs. His expression turned cocky as he eyed you, one of his brows still raised at you as if he’d just proven his point with that alone. 

“Jax–it’s almost three in the afternoon,” you reminded him. “What if someone comes to the office to drop off their car?”

“Then I guess you better be quiet, huh?” he teased, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. “Besides, I locked both doors.”

He tugged on your wrist, pulling you away from the filing cabinets. Relenting, you took a few steps forward towards him, your eyes hesitantly watching him. He had something particular on his mind, you could see it.

Your feet halted when he stopped tugging on your wrist, releasing it from his hold before he stepped around behind you. Wordlessly, his hand rested along your lower back as his expression shifted to something of a silent question, one clearly asking if you wanted him to continue. But of course you did, even if you knew it was quite likely that the entire garage might be about to hear you.

When you didn't stop him, Jax's hand on your back urged you forward with just enough force to get your feet moving again. You continued until your thighs bumped into the back of the desk in the office, the one still scattered with the papers Chuckie had messed up. Still completely silent, you felt the flat of Jax’s hand run up the length of your spine until it came to rest along the nape of your neck. He pressed against it firmly and you immediately complied, bending forward over the desk as your ass simultaneously pressed back against the front of him.

You could feel it. The growing bulge in his jeans now cradled between the cushion of your ass. Even though you’d been protesting the time and place a minute ago, you couldn’t resist the urge to press back into it, grinning when you heard the soft groan fall out of him in response. But then his hand on the back of your neck held you more firmly against the desk, your cheek pressed against the paperwork that had been giving you a headache not that long ago.

“Don’t go gettin’ any ideas, baby,” he warned you. “Cause you’re about to learn what happens when you tease me with these fucking little dresses of yours.” He paused, his tongue running over his teeth behind his closed lips. “Now stay there.” 

His hand left the back of your neck, but the tone of his voice was enough to keep you from resisting. Though that didn’t stop you from straining to look back at him behind you, watching as his hands gripped the material of your dress before he bunched it in his hands and hiked it up over your waist. 

“I told you, Jackson,” you said, “I wasn’t teasing you. I’m wearing them because of the heat.”

His eyes shifted over to meet yours, his expression remaining steadfast. You’d been so focused on him that you hadn’t realized what he was doing until you felt it–the sharp, decisive smack of his palm against your bare ass. A gasp slipped out of you as you slid just a fraction along the top of the desk at the impact, the papers shifting beneath you. A second later, the stinging turned into a pleasant burn as your eyes held his.

“And I told you that’s bullshit,” he shot back, his hand running over the curve of your ass to smooth the place he’d just hit. “Isn't this what you were hoping would happen?”

One of his shoes slipped between your feet, kicking them apart as he stood behind you. Your eyes remained on him, completely unable to look away from what he was doing.

“Don't tell me you haven't been in here all week teasing me,” he husked. “I've seen you eyeing me through the damn windows in here. I've seen the look on your face.”

His hand stopped smoothing over your ass to hook a finger in the fabric of your thong before he pulled it off to the side and out of the way. Your hands curled into fists against the surface of the desk, anticipation coursing through you as you watched him begin to undo his belt buckle next. 

“You're wearing those fucking things cause you wanted me to come in here,” he continued, slowly undoing the button of his jeans before lowering his zipper, “and bend you over this goddamn desk. That's what you wanted, isn't it, darlin’?”

“Jax, I wasn’t–”

You broke off on a sharp intake of breath when you heard him spit onto his hand before he was rubbing it along you, getting you ready for him. A soft moan fell out of you at the feel of his fingers before you could stop it. Not even seconds later you felt the thick tip of him rubbing against your entrance and your eyelids slowly lowered. For a moment, you completely forgot where you were as another low moan passed between your lips, the sound just barely audible over the noise of tools from the garage.

“Careful, darlin’,” Jax warned, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Unless you want everyone out there to know exactly what I’m doing to you right now.”

His words were sobering, your eyes opening once more from where your cheek was still resting along your desk. Immediately you were met with that smug grin on his face as he stood over you from behind. He huffed out a laugh at how quickly you’d quieted before he finally pushed himself into you in one fluid thrust. Eyes rolling partially back at the feel of him, your breath caught in your throat at him suddenly stretching you so damn good. 

But he didn’t give you long to adjust before he dragged his cock out so torturously slowly only to slam himself back into you so hard that the front of your thighs banged loudly into the metal of the desk. Hands balled so tight along the surface of it, you could feel your nails biting into your palm as you grit your teeth together in an attempt to hold back the cry that almost flew out of you at that brutal thrust. 

“Fuck, your pussy’s always so goddamn tight, baby,” he hissed out.

Jax began to set a firm, unforgiving pace with his hips, one of his hands landing onto the desk behind your head with a solid thunk, the sound quickly followed by the noise of a document being crumpled beneath his hand. The noise just barely registered in your ears, but you didn’t give a shit right now, not when his other hand gripped your hip so tight you could feel it as he held you in place. 

Jax savagely buried his cock inside of you over and over, his pace never wavering as he fucked you with a relentless passion, the sounds of his grunts causing you to clench and squeeze his cock. After a few minutes, you felt him lower his front to mold himself against your back, his hot breaths now falling over the side of your face.

Trapped under the weight of him now, you were pressed so hard against the desk that you couldn’t move. The roughness of his leather kutte kept rubbing against your bare skin each time he slammed into you, the coolness of it a pleasant contrast to how you were currently burning up. Sweat began accumulating over your skin as the desk beneath you both began to slide with a soft screech along the floor each time his hips rammed roughly into your ass, your thighs still loudly slamming into the metal of it. 

His cock kept hitting you so deep in this position that he kept reaching that spot. That spot which had you whimpering quietly under him, fighting to keep yourself from making too much noise as the guys in the garage continued working and talking just beyond the office. A breathy laugh fell out of Jax right beside your ear, the sound causing your pussy to involuntarily tighten around him. 

“This is the quietest you’ve ever been, baby,” he grunted out against your ear between thrusts. “Sure you don’t want them to hear how much you love this cock?”

“You’re such a–” you broke off on a particularly deep thrust, just as Jax’s teeth sunk into the curve between your neck and your shoulder, “–cocky ass sometimes.”

His responding chuckle vibrated against your skin as he kept thrusting into you, your eyes growing half-lidded the longer he continued. His teeth sunk into your neck next, and that delicious wave of pleasure began creeping its way over you each time he buried himself a little deeper. You were getting closer to your release, beginning to grow lightheaded from the pleasure and the heat in the office alike. No doubt it would smell like sex and sweat in here by the time you’d both finished–something you wouldn’t be able to hide.

His hand gripped your hip even tighter, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as his own thrusts began to lose their consistency. He was getting closer himself, you could tell by the way he was moving and the grunts that were falling into your ear between the soft kisses he’d started placing at the base of your jaw. 

“You close, baby?” he murmured against your skin. “Gonna come for me?”

He was still pressed over the back of you, the desk continuing to shift along the floor–though not nearly as much as it had been with his earlier forceful thrusts. You could only nod in response along the desk, a soft hum coming from you as you kept your teeth grit tight together.

His hand released your hip, sliding around to the front of you as his middle finger began rubbing your clit, giving you that extra little push. Your eyes snapped shut instantly, a strangled noise getting caught in your throat. 

“There you go,” he encouraged, his lips brushing along your neck with the words. “Now you're feeling good, huh?”

“Shit, Jax,” you whined through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed out. “You wanna say that a little louder?”

But you couldn’t speak, too afraid that you'd open your mouth and spill out all the cries of pleasure you were fighting down. He damn well knew what he was doing right now, especially as his finger kept rubbing along your clit. 

It only took a few more deep thrusts into you before you suddenly felt yourself coming hard on his cock. Turning your face into whatever document was beside you, you forced down the scream that threatened to fly out of you. The noise from the auto shop barely drowned out the obscene sound of skin on skin in the office as Jax continued to fuck you, chasing after his own release as you came undone beneath him. 

He was clearly too far gone himself to remark on how silent you were as you bit your lip to keep from making too much noise. But by the time you’d made it to the other side of your climax, you felt him abruptly bury himself so deep inside of you with an animalistic grunt beside your ear that you knew he was there before you felt it. Warm spurts of his release steadily filled you as he came, groaning beside your ear as his hips gave a few more sharp snaps while he finished inside of you. 

When he finally emptied inside of you, you could feel his chest heaving against your back. His cock still fully seated in you, you lay there trying to catch your breath yourself, your eyelids fluttering. 

“Fucking shit,” Jax breathed out, panting hard. His mouth still hovered beside your ear, his warm breath still brushing along your cheek. “Fucking hot as hell in here.”

Laying there bent over your desk, his tattooed forearm was the only thing you could see. A soft, tired laugh fell out of you at the truth of his words. The room did in fact feel ten degrees hotter after that.

“Yeah,” you murmured, still blissed out along the desk. “That didn’t help with the heat.”

Jax huffed at your comment before he leaned forward further, pressing his lips to your temple, letting them linger longer than necessary. You’d noticed him occasionally giving you these tender little gestures–something you assumed was due to your friendship in conjunction with the sex.

“Helped with somethin’ else, though,” he countered.

Opening your mouth, you’d been about to respond, but the sound of the door handle turning caught both of your attention. Jax groaned quietly before he slipped himself out of you, beginning to put himself back together behind you. As the door handle was jiggled more firmly again, you pushed yourself up from the top of the desk, readjusting your panties before tugging your dress back down. With a frown, you noticed the mess you’d both just made of your work, but the voice that came from the other side of the door had your eyes widening in shock.

“Why the hell is the goddamn door locked when we’re still open?”

“Goddamit,” Jax muttered under his breath.

With a horrified look, you glanced over at Jax beside you while your hands frantically smoothed your dress down. “Why the fuck did it have to be your mother?” you whispered harshly. “She’s absolutely going to know what just happened in here.”

Buckling his belt, Jax shrugged as a lazy smile that was half-apologetic and half-entertained spread over his lips. “Dunno, baby,” he answered. “But this is all your fucking fault for wearing those damn dresses. So I'll let you deal with my mother.”

Jaw dropping at the audacity of him, you watched as he sent you a wink before turning towards the door leading back to the garage. Without a backwards glance, he left you standing there in the office looking just as disheveled as your desk while Gemma’s voice called through the door once more.

[sorceresssundries]

Heatwave

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: It is the final social event of the summer season, and Tav has dressed poorly for a festival in the midst of a heatwave. One-shot.

Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sweat-licking, Smut.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Another smutty Austen inspired work with a bit of fluff! This time in a universe outside of BG3. There definitely seems to be a weather theme in these one-shots. Maybe they'll fuck in the snow next, who knows?

The Festival of Shieldmeet had dominated conversations throughout the city all summer long. With the event occurring only once every four years, the anticipation had reached a fever pitch, rendering even the sweltering heatwave a minor inconvenience. The idea of postponing or, heaven forbid, cancelling such a revered social event due to something as minor as the weather was simply inconceivable.

The festival was being held in the sprawling grounds belonging to some Lord or Lady who had earned the privilege of hosting. In the heart of a large, manicured, bloom-laden garden stood a bandstand where bards were tuning their instruments, ready to serenade the guests with summer melodies. Alongside it stretched a long table adorned with dishes piled high with the richest Waterdhavian delicacies. Attendants in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowds, bearing trays laden with sparkling drinks in tall glasses, as well as refreshing juices and icy water. There also seemed to be tables scattered around with trays stacked with rolled up flannels sitting in ice, patiently waiting to be scooped up and dabbed at the forehead of the sweltering guests - These seemed to be a welcome addition, as there was scarcely any shade to be found anywhere. 

Tav found herself in a state of utter misery. Seeking solace from the stifling crowds, she had retreated to the embrace of the shade beneath an oak tree bordering the garden, where she fervently fanned herself out of sight. She had naively and desperately assumed that the shade would cool her, but despite the protection from the sun’s direct attention the air was still just as cloying, and squeezed her with suffocating stillness. What she wouldn’t give for even the whisper of a breeze. The sad little paper fan she had acquired was doing very little work for her, just pushing the warmth forwards and heating her even further in her efforts to keep it moving. 

For some inexplicable reason she couldn't recall, she had chosen to don her finest silk gown over a whalebone corset. It hugged her curves with an unforgiving grip, accentuating her form and lifting her breasts. With a smile as wide as her hips, she had admired herself in the mirror before departing. However, that smile faded the moment she stepped out of her cooled carriage and into the searing heat of the midday sun. She had immediately noticed the guests dressed in garments far more suited to the occasion than her own.

What a foolish notion this had been, she mused, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She had no idea what had driven this madness. Well.. she thought as she peeked out from behind the tree and across at the crowd gathered in the garden, maybe she had a slight idea. 

Gale Dekarios was an exceptionally handsome man who exuded infuriating arrogance, boundless pride, and endless charm. From their first encounter at the spring ball, he had claimed her attention at every subsequent event. She had ‘accidentally’ stepped on his foot during one of their early dances, after he had explained to her his proficiency with magic and his gallant willingness to at least try and teach her some of his simpler spells. He had laughed at her annoyance, apologised profusely, and kissed her hand at the end of the evening. She had been aflame ever since.

Throughout the season, they had fallen into a familiar routine. Their ritual involved stealing glances at one another, offering subtle gestures of acknowledgment, and then both making a concerted effort not to meet eyes again. Yet, inevitably, one of them would find themselves drawn towards the other. It was a dance of restraint, leaving Tav exhilarated each time, despite the exhausting choreography. She was never really sure who was leading the dance, but at this moment, sweating and flustered and hiding behind a tree, Tav decided it probably wasn’t her. 

As each evening would draw to a close, he would always bid her goodnight with a kiss upon her hand, each time lingering longer than the last, and tell her how much he was looking forward to their next meeting. Upon returning home, Tav would often find herself lost in fantasies, imagining his hand tangled in her hair, his lips tracing the curves of her body. More often than not, these night-time reveries ended with her own desperate touch and his name cried out from her lips.

In the privacy of sweet slumber, she would dream of their next encounter, eagerly anticipating another opportunity to engage in their dance and hoping to step on his feet once more.

Maybe she had more magic in her than she realised, as her very thoughts appeared to have summoned him to her hiding place.

“Ah, Miss Taventon. I thought I spotted you retreating all the way out here.” He greeted her with his customary charm. As always, he was a vision to behold, with his dark, mischievously glinting eyes and sweeping brown locks pulled back from his face. Clad in simple yet impeccably tailored attire—a snug waistcoat over a pristine white shirt, adorned with a luxurious silken cravat, and well-fitted breeches. Frustratingly, he looked completely unaffected by the blistering warmth, and Tav thought she must look like a sweating, breathless fool in comparison. She only had time to be embarrassed momentarily, before she realised the precarious nature of their situation.  For the first time, they were properly alone together and Tav blushed at the thought of being found with him behind a tree so far away from the party. There would be a scandal. 

“Mr. Dekarios, a pleasure.” She looked around to try and see if anyone would catch them in their compromising seclusion, but it appeared they were safe for now. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me a little affected by the heat. I was just after a moment of respite.” She began to fan herself more fervently.

“Understandable, I'm sure. For one not versed in magic.” His smugness had returned, and Tav always treated it as a welcome challenge.

“Well, not all of us are as exceptional as you” She batted her eyelashes at him sweetly and took in his cool, handsome appearance. “Let me guess, enchanted clothing?” He bowed his head in confirmation of her appraisal, still looking smug and annoyingly unflustered by the heat. “A shame it could not chill your ego, but alas, I suppose your talent has to end somewhere.” 

His smile in return was genuine. He very much enjoyed her banter. Almost as much as he enjoyed seeing her sweating under the shade of the giant oak tree. 

He raised a hand in mock defeat. “Peace, my lady. I came bearing a gift. In an effort to cool your skin, and perhaps even your temper.” She really was ravishing in this state, he thought, overheated and fiery. He wondered whether she was aware of his true intentions in seeking her out. It was the final event of the summer season, and as such, their elaborate game would have to come to an end. 

As she reached out to accept the cool towel he offered, a surge of boldness seized him. With a swift motion, he closed the distance between them until he was almost pressed against her, and with a tender touch, he placed the cold flannel against the side of her neck. He had hoped it would elicit a reaction from her, at the very least a small gasp of surprise, but she remained silent. She just watched him as the droplets from the towel trailed slow down her neck, caressing her collarbone in the way his fingers ached to, and gathering to rest glistening on the shelf of her breasts which had been pushed up by her corset. 

He had thoughts of ripping it off her. The silk of her dress would tear like tissue in his practised hands, and he would cast the tatters of it into the wind and spend an entire afternoon finding where the pools of her sweat gathered. He ached to know what undergarments she was wearing, what colour, how the material would taste if he pressed his tongue against. It. He hoped it was white cotton, something the scent and taste of her would cling to - so damp with sweat and desire that he would be able to see her dark curls through the material. 

He could feel the cooling enchantment wrapped round him waning as his concentration and resolve were tested. Damn heat. Damn woman. She knew exactly what she was doing. Who wears a silk-wrapped corset in a heatwave? Each bead of sweat and whisper of her heated musk was a siren’s call, and he was determined to drown himself in the ocean of her. 

“I am no expert in fashion, Miss Taventon, but I must question the decision to wear a silk gown in such conditions. Surely linen, or cotton would have been preferable? Or maybe one enjoys the sensations brought on by basking in such stifling heat?” His tone was more frustrated than he meant it to be.

“I thought it would be light and cooling, Saer. Not all of us are gifted with the ability to enchant our clothing.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and wondered if every item he was wearing was enchanted.. She quickly snapped out of her musings “An unfortunate error on my part, I hadn’t taken into account the lack of breeze, or the…” 

“Stickiness?” He said, focusing intently on dabbing her neck and chest with the flannel and not meeting her eyes.

“The humidity. Yes.” 

He took a break from his attentions and discarded the flannel, to take a leisurely sip of his drink. The droplets of condensation cascaded down the glass like tiny beads of sweat. Tav couldn't help but watch, a pang of envy stirring within her as she observed the icy water slip downwards and through his fingers. There was too much electric heat here, strung out in the very air, no amount of cool water would save her. She needed to be swathed by him, to smother the flames until they burnt out into ash. Even then, she was certain there would be embers enough to fan back to roaring flame at just one breathy word from him. She was doomed kindling.

The soft clink of ice against glass filled the air as he drank, his gaze never wavering from hers. With intent, he parted his lips slightly, allowing a single ice cube to slide into his mouth. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he savoured it, rolling it around his mouth with his tongue.

“Most refreshing.” He breathed, after a long, heavy swallow,  “Could I tempt you with a sip?” 

“I..Maybe.. This heat has caused quite a desperate thirst. Although I notice you have only brought one glass. How impolite of you” She dropped her fan to the ground in vexation, stupid thing was not doing anything to help. There was no saving her now.

He smirked and bowed his head slightly. “Not to worry, dear lady.” His eyes darkened and his voice became a heated command. “Open your mouth for me”

At first there was shock, but then without question she did as she was told, like a girl entranced. With a deft movement of his fingers, he plucked another ice cube from his glass and placed it delicately on her waiting tongue. 

Tav saw a chance and took it.

Before he could withdraw his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and the surprise in his eyes lit her like a firework. She burned for these moments, for any slip in his resolve, any evidence behind the refinery and politeness that there were things she could do that would shock him. If there was a crack in his armour, she would slip in like water and drown him in sin.

Locking eyes with him, she held his gaze steady as she took control. With a boldness she hadn't known she possessed, she leaned forward and enveloped his fingers in her mouth, sucking gently and letting the ice cube melt against her tongue in a sweet rush of cold. It was a calculated move, a daring play, and as she released his hand, a flicker of satisfaction fluttered in her eyes. The game was afoot, and she was changing the rules. 

She let go of his fingers, and smiled innocently. “How right you are as always, Mr.Dekarios. Most refreshing.” She lilted, still sucking on the remnants of the ice in her mouth. 

He had suddenly lost his footing. The blood that was keeping him focused and leading their little game had suddenly re-routed elsewhere, and he was struggling to compose thoughts. He had no words, so actions would have to do.

He drew closer to her, the space between them shrinking, and he reached out his hand to trace a delicate path from the warmth of her flushed cheek, along the elegant curve of her jaw, down to the hollow of her throat. There, just above the gentle rise and fall of her bosom, he noticed a glistening bead of sweat, which he captured with his fingertip. Bringing it to his lips, he savoured it, and made a noise of growling satisfaction. Her breath hitched beautifully in response.

"It appears you're still uncomfortably warm. I'd hardly be a gentleman if I allowed you to suffer like this." With a languid sip of his drink, he popped another ice cube into his mouth. 

“You are no…”  

He aimed to catch off guard before she could finish. He closed what little gap was left between them and all playfulness burned away in the heat, leaving nothing but desperation. Fuck games, fuck dancing around each other, and fuck that ridiculous silk dress she was wearing. She had won their game, and her prize would be for him to take her the way he had been wanting to for the entire summer. 

His glass fell to the ground with no thought at all, and he grabbed at her waist. Pushing her back against the tree and pinning her there with a leg between her thighs. He finally earned a gasp of surprise from her, as he pushed his lips against her throat, and pressed the ice cube against her pulsing skin with his tongue. 

The noise she made was tantalisingly balanced between relief and desire, and he kept the ice firmly against her as he moved it further down her neck, mimicking the trail of sweat his finger had traced earlier. He delighted in the way her skin prickled as the ice caressed her. She was divine. He wanted to tease her until she lost all of her brazen stares and cutting banter, and all that was left was a puddle of a woman. He wanted to undo her the way he would her clothes, and watch her fall apart under his hands, his tongue, the push of his hips…

"Someone... Will..." Her voice came out in gasping pleas as he continued caressing her with the ice. "Find us..." He needed to remove that damn corset soon; restricted breathing wasn't conducive to the way he wanted to hear her cry out for him— completely unbound. A fleeting desire crossed his mind to restrain her in other ways, at other times. But for now, he simply needed to see how the heat had flushed her body, with as little material between them as possible.

“You think I would allow anyone else to see you like this? I am not a man who shares his treasure.” His cocky little grin made a slight reappearance as he pulled his lips away from her damp skin to meet her eyes and offer some cooling sincerity. “A spell has been cast, no one will see nor hear us. You are safe with me, my dream. Always.”

He lost himself to a moment of softness, and caressed her face with total adoration.

“I have craved the taste of you all summer. The sun itself could not burn me in the way you have. I am a scorch mark, I am the cindered ashes of all restraint. You are my sun. And no one else will gaze upon you the way I will.”

There was no response adequate to match the sudden delicacy of his words, leaving Tav momentarily speechless. In that fleeting moment of enraptured, adoring silence, Gale misunderstood her reaction, his beautiful face falling with concern, fearing he had unwittingly caused her distress.

“Tell me you do not desire me, that this soft heat inflaming you is not at least partly caused by your feelings for me. Tell me I have imagined your eyes searching for me, your playful need for my hands on you as we dance, and I will leave it at this. I will have spent a summer loving you, and it will have been the brightest and warmest of all my seasons.” 

He loved her. The air suddenly felt lighter. He was the breeze she had been craving. 

Her bright smile cracked through the initial shock of his confession, and relief swept over him like a tide. “I know you have a vivid imagination, Mr. Dekarios. But put it away, it is not needed here. I have attended each event only in the hope of being in your presence. It seems we both have had a summer well spent.” She kissed him then; sweetly, lovingly and he laughed enough for the crinkles between his eyes to appear. 

It did not take long for the damned dress to be torn from the skin of her sweat-slicked body. For the corset to be ripped from its bindings. For the softness of her breasts to find their place against his tongue, nipples peaking as though the heat didn’t exist, his hot breath and cool tongue creating a heady mix of magic which made her skin sing. 

Tomorrow, there would be rough marks on her back from the bark of the tree - but for now the slight pain only added to the overwhelming sensations which crawled their way over her body, her sweat mingling with his as he tore off his shirt and pressed himself against her. Caging her against the trunk. His skin was cool against hers, and steam danced between them as though melted steel was being forged by cool water. He was hard, she could feel it. 

His tongue flattened at her skin of her neck and her breasts, and licked away the lust-induced sweat his affection had caused. The fresh, salty taste may as way have been laced with liquor for the effect it was having on him. She tasted of sweet wine with the faint hint of salt. It was subtle, but he needed something richer. His attention moved downwards, and It was not long till he reached that most sacred place, where he had been aching to lose himself in scent and taste. He took his time and inhaled her. Using his nose to caress her sweet spot as he relished in the full-bodied flavour of her. 

As soon as his mouth began lavishing her, she realised he had somehow extended the cooling enchantment to his tongue. Her head was thrown back against the tree in ecstasy, the press of his mouth against her quickly becoming too much for her to handle. There was a brief moment of self-consciousness, where she worried about how the heat of the day would affect her taste. But the worry was soon lost, the thought drowned out by the sound of his appreciation and the realisation that he was stroking himself as he devoured her. 

He was dedicated in his endeavour, although no amount of skin-tingling magic would be able to balm the fire coursing through her veins. She thought she would never cool, that she would be a woman on fire for the rest of her love-fuelled days. The sensation was mesmeric, and she could not remember a sweeter sensation than this man on his knees in front of her, face buried between her legs and using his tongue to caress her with such enthusiasm she felt as though she would fall apart. And fall apart she did. It was euphoric, and her hands gripped his hair fiercely as she crashed over rocks in reckless pleasure.  

When he came back up to meet her he was breathless and lust-drunk, giddy as a school-boy and stoked as a bonfire.  “There has never been a sweeter taste than you, my love.” He kissed her then, languidly, passionately - intent on sharing the riches of his exploration. Tav could taste herself in his kiss. They may as well have been sharing wine between their lips. 

“If you don’t fuck me soon, Gale, I swear I will combust.”

He laughed at this. At the desperation, at the slight annoyance in her voice, at the fact this was the first time she had ever said his given name and she had thrown it at him as a demand to push her against the tree and bury himself inside her. What a woman. 

He needed no further invitation; shedding the confines of his breeches, he pressed himself slowly into her warmth, and she made the most delicious groaning sound he had ever heard. This woman could drive him to madness, and thankfully he was aware that his earlier attentions ensured he need not be overly gentle. Knowing that his endurance would be short-lived, thanks to the fervour he had stoked within himself while bringing her to climax against his tongue, he abandoned all pretense of restraint. Together they were primal, the tension that had been building between them releasing in pure, carnal desire.  

Though a gentleman might have exercised more self-control, such decorum was a luxury he couldn't afford in the presence of such irresistible temptation. Stripped of his clothes, he found himself as vulnerable to the unrelenting heat of the day as Tav, and soon, his focused, determined passion ignited a sheen of sweat upon his skin.

Tav’s payback could not have been any sweeter, as soon as she noticed the sweat trickling down his neck she took her chance and licked it from his bronzed, silken skin. His response was a delicious, low moan and his rhythm faltered into something more urgent, unbound. His grip tightening, one of his hands found its way to rest gently against her throat so he could feel the deep moans rumbling against his palm as he fucked her.

“I love you” She breathed. And that’s all it takes. He is suddenly hurtling over a precipice and into sweet, tight oblivion. 

They both collapse onto the ground, sweaty, burnt-out, euphoric. And they fall into uninhibited laughter as they realise they can hear the band playing a jaunty tune in the distance, and the chatter of the ever-growing crowd is closer than they initially thought.

“You are still hidden from prying eyes, my dream.” Gale offered reassurance as he kissed her head. “And I will conjure up some suitable clothing for you, don’t worry.”

“That is most generous of you Saer, but please - by the Gods, no corset and no silk.”

[rorichuu]

☆ MIDAS x TROPHY-WIFE!READER ☆

trophy wife definition — a young, attractive woman who is the wife of a rich and successful older person and acts as a symbol of the person's social position.

┆rori's note: been MEANING to write for midas... this also ties in with jealous!midas as well... i hope i wrote him how you guys expected :) also here is what i think his voice sounds like, either that or matthew mercer (leon kennedy va) 😩

┆disclaimer/tags: ♯ smutty , more modern . . . you two are at an exceptionally boring party and midas takes you away from keeping appearances. ୨୧ˊˊ

Your fingertips held the glass gently in your hand, allowing the sparkle of the champagne to invite your empty gaze. You let out a small sigh, lifting the glass to meet your lips as you took a long sip.

You loved your husband, and these parties and events highlighted his successes and rich opportunities to grander prospects... but the small talk and side-eye gaze from other women was enough to slowly kill you. Your lip pouted as you slumped in your seat, the crackle of the fireplace being the only centering element in the room thus far until a hint of gold captured you, eyes flickering over to your husband with a knowing smile.

Midas had worn a suit, much more formal than he would have preferred... but he knew what these events took. You noticed he had given his final remarks before parting, approaching you. Midas took place behind you, each hand resting on either side of your chair as he leaned above you. "Hello, my love," he murmured in a low rumble, his voice hinting at exhaustion from the socialization... but he always made time to speak with you. "Quite exciting over here, isn't it?" He spoke sarcastically, making you roll your eyes and gently slap his arm.

"Just riveting," you spoke back, the both of you shooting back snarky remarks. Midas lifted his hands from the chair, walking to the side of you before gently caressing the nape of your neck. You shivered. "I'm tired of sitting pretty." You spoke as politely as you could, knowing your status was purely to make Midas look good... though, he denied it through his sincere devotion to you.

"Can't be too tiring if you're lovely all the time." he gave a soft smile before breaking his gaze from you, eyes scanning the party. Everyone seemed well-occupied, chatting over fine platters and tipsy cocktails. A sigh left him, chest rising and falling noticeably.

You kept your gaze on him, pouting before leaning more into his touch. "Do we have to stay?" You asked, voice hushed but loud enough for only Midas to hear. A smirk flickered over his lips as he looked down at you, his expression almost condescending.

"Why? Can't take another hour?" Midas knew his effect of teasing you, hand still caressing the nape of your neck as you nodded. He hummed in response, parting his gaze from you once more to look over the party. "A moment, my love." His hand parted from you before it slid down your arm, lifting your hand to gently kiss your knuckles... and before you knew it, your husband was gone.

You groaned, frustrated at his empty words as you leaned against the palm of your hand... not too long after, you rose from your seat and approached a table. If you were going to stay for a little while longer, you figured you could make the most of it.

Giving a small smile, a taller—quite attractive—man shared a table with you. He raised an eyebrow.

"Y/n, I presume?" He spoke, voice full of uncertainty... you nodded. "Was wondering what an angel like you was doing at a party like this." A chuckle escaped him as you laughed back, cocking your hip out as you leaned against the table now. Advantage taken.

"Angel? You flatter," Tongue laced with false flirtation and interest, you continued the conversation... hoping you could speak loud enough for your husband to hear. "You must be? Ren, right?" You asked in question, observing his egotistical written name in his coat.

"Correct," he spoke, crossing his arms with a smirk. You felt a certain disgust rise up in your throat, but you choked it down... whatever you could do to get back at your husband and leave.

"I've heard of you," you spoke, a smile approaching your lips to appear as innocent as you could. You leaned up, pointing at him with your glass. "You worked for my husband a while back!" You beamed.

Before you could notice, Midas' ears pricked up, scanning the room for your face once more. His gaze darkened once he found you talking to another man; flirting with another man. He noticed it in the way you leaned in, your hand grazing the lining of his coat, the cock of your hip... his heart raced with an all-familiar fury. Midas was quick to excuse himself from his current conversation, his exit replaced with a hushed inquiry from his guests.

The sound of your husband's footsteps was enough to send shivers down your spine, your eyes widened a bit as his hand immediately found the small of your back. "Evening," he spoke, poisonous. You looked up at him, he wore a fake smile with an even faker tone. Bingo.

Ren froze up, a smile forced on his lips as he nodded his head in response. "Midas," his voice dropped to something more formal, stiffening his posture before placing his half-finished drink down and stole a glance at his watch. "Quite the party... but I’m afraid I must leave." He gave a quick smile before brushing down his coat.

"Yes, you must." His command ruled over Ren's decision, Midas' gaze boring into his before rushing out the door... what reputations do to a man.

Before you could react, Midas' hand fell from your back to your hips, tightening his grip before you could slip away. "Not so fast," he whispered, causing you to sigh and straighten your posture, avoiding his gaze. Midas continued to guide you with his arm wrapped around your waist, disappearing beyond a wall and away from the others. "What was that?" He looked down at you, watching as you fumbled and played with your fingers.

"We were just talking," you whispered, feigning innocence with that pretty little voice of yours. “I can sit pretty but can’t have a conversation?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, raising a brow. Midas knew how you were acting, and he knew precisely how to straighten that out.

“Having a conversation is different than leaning over a table and running your hands over his chest,” His voice was low, eyes lidded over with something darker… you bit your lip as you leaned against the wall, pouting… but just when you began raising your hand towards his chest, he grabbed your wrist. “Don’t.” He warned. You tilted your head.

“Why not?” You shot back, furrowing your brows as Midas grabbed you by both if your wrists and pinned them above your head… his leg slotting perfectly between your thighs.

“Want to find out? You brought me this far, why not finish what you started?” Midas knew just how to bring you towards that tempting edge—you judged it by the thrum of your heart, the heat beating against your body as you shared hot breath. You let out a small whimper, biting your lip. Midas smirked, brushing nose-to-nose as his lips barely grazed yours. “Sounds like it.” Before you could properly think, your lips clashed with his, your husband letting out a small groan… you had him wrapped around your pretty finger.

The two of you were barely hidden behind a wall on the way to the upstairs story… thankfully, no one was impolite enough to snoop beyond the corridor. Midas was fit perfectly between you, one leg rubbed against your inner thigh as you rubbed down against him… he noticed this, parting from your glossed lips as you let out a small gasp for air. Midas was just as drunk off of you as you were on him.

“Quiet,” He demanded, locking eyes with you as his fingertips grazed your hip and further down your black dress. Your husband’s hand was held dangerously close to your panties, the pool of arousal coating his fingers with one swift movement. You hiccup, a low chuckle leaving his throat. “Angel. Quiet.” You bit your lip, nodding obediently as he nodded with you… that small gesture of praise enough to send you over.

Midas’ hands continued to explore the thin fabric beneath your dress, rubbing your clothed pussy with his thumb as he towered over you. His touch was intoxicating, the hush of the party just a wall yonder exciting you as you arched your back slightly. Your husband smiled, pleased with your expression alone. “Oh, you like that don’t you?” Upon hearing his praise, you whimpered in response, bliss washing over you as his hand move up to slip two fingers in your panty line. As his linked fingers held the fabric, he slowly motioned downward, on his knees as he kept eye contact with you. You were now completely exposed to him.

You squirmed, hips swaying before his hands gripped your hips. “Shh.” You knew your husband too well to not notice the risks he takes… this being one of them.

Letting the fabric fall down to your feet, his hands ran up your sides to grip your hips, breaking eye contact as his tongue slithered between your folds. Threatening to make noise, you held a hand at your lips, eyes shut closed as you pushed your hips closer to his mouth. Midas took that as invitation as his tongue ran circles around your clit, causing you to let out a small gasp. Midas’ hand massaged just above your hip, his silent moans muffled by your cunt… the coldness of the gold that painted his hands caused you to shiver.

You soon felt his right hand slowly fall from your hip, the other one stabilizing you while the other found your entrance… furthermore, he began to tease you as his middle finger slowly pushed in and out, causing you to whine. “F…fuck, Midas, just…” you begged, voice hardly audible and cracked. Midas hummed in response, knowing just what his wife wanted.

Your chest hiccuped once his two fingers began to work you open, his tongue busy lapping at your clit while you depended on him to keep your balance. His pace began to quicken, the heat blooming at your stomach began to knot up… your hips bucked against him, causing Midas to smile while he worked up the pace. Your head dropped, your hair falling in front of your face as tears began to prickle in the corners of your eyes.

Your hand was laced in his hair, gripping it with a fistful as he moaned against you… the feeling of your pleasure against his tongue and the pain of your touch enough to drive him dizzy.

Your dress was rolled up against the top of your thighs, Midas’ own doing from his wandering hands… he needed to feel you, all of you… and the way he sucked and kissed your puffy cunt you was enough evidence to show.

Your chest rose and fell, your breath quickening while your husband’s hands slowed and accelerated at your misery… your hand began to fall from your lips, a moan slipping, causing Midas to groan in response… your back arched as you felt your walls tighten around his fingers, releasing as he drank every last drop of your arousal.

Drunk off of your pleasure, you let out a small whimper, head dropping to look your darling husband in the eye. His mouth parted from between your legs, saliva and your release coating his nose and mouth making you flush. Midas let out a low chuckle, a smug smile painted across his face as he licked his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he grumbled, lifting from his knees before his hand hooked beneath your chin, kissing you to get a taste of your own. It was slow and passionate, and your taste alone was enough to feel the returning pulse between your legs. Your husband broke away from the kiss, his tongue sliding over your lip. “Do you forgive me?” He asked, a hint of sincerity laced with his words despite his sarcastic manner. You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Gonna take more than that.” You spoke, Midas taking the dark look in your eyes as a challenge… you let out a small gasp as your husband hooked his arms beneath your knees, lifting you bridal style as he began to walk upstairs. “What are you doing?” Disbelief changing your once blissed expression, yet Midas shrugged, despite the booming party below them.

“You said you wanted more, doll…”

.

.

.

rorichuu!

[crossingthedreams]

self-destruction — aemond targaryen x sister!reader

a/n: my idea was to make this angstober all about pedro pascal characters, but I’m not good at keeping my word and this prompt made me think of (book) aemond very intensely. so, here it is, a little late, but here it is!!! day 03 — self-destruction, from @angstober. there are some pop culture inspired references here and there, but nothing that takes aways from the medieval vibes, pinky promise! let me know what you think, and feel free to dm me :)

this is an angsty smutty piece, so beware and mdni. 

word count: 3.5k

warnings: angst. mentions of death. mentions of war. (targaryen) incest (brother/sister). smut. oral (m!receiving). p in v. slight (if you squint) breeding kink.

You realized from a very young age you were bound to marry one of your brothers or nephews.’Targaryens have queer customs’, your mother would say, but it didn’t seem like she’d mind it at all. Even though she would take you to the sept constantly and there the people would say it was a terrible sin to lay with one’s blood, she had betrothed your eldest brother to Helaena. 

Your father would tell tales about his grandparents, the King Jahaerys and the Good Queen Alyssane. How they knew Targaryens were closer to gods than they were to man, which was why only your bloodline remained as dragonlords. The doctrine of exceptionalism. It all seemed a little unhumble to you, and you knew gods, whether Valyrian gods, old gods or the Seven, had a way to punish mortals who flew too close to the Sun. 

Despite it being strange to you, you loved the stories. You loved the songs about old tales, the epicness of it all. Queen Rhaenys and your great-grandmother Alyssane were your favorites. Oh, how lovely would it be to see Meraxes flying in the skies next to Balerion and Vhagar. Balerion was your father’s dragon, and Vhagar was claimed by your brother. It seemed cruel that fate had taken Meraxes before you could ever ride her. 

The King Viserys would kid he had a Visenya and a Rhaenys in his offspring. Your eldest sister, the heir to the throne, had Visenya’s warrior ways, and her husband was the wielder of the very own Dark Sister. You, on the other hand, were much alike the Conqueror’s other wife, all would say. In the same fashion as the late Queen, you loved dancing, poetry and, above all, you loved flying. 

You bonded with the dragon Silverwing as a young woman, later than your siblings had. The feeling of the she-dragon's scales beneath your hands as you mounted her for the very first time was worth all the years of wait. You knew that if you couldn’t pursue Meraxes, the dragon that was meant for you, reserved to you by fate, was the one of Queen Alyssane’s.

The brother closest to you in age, Prince Daeron, had his own dragon, but he was much too small to fly on when you claimed Silverwing, and he was already halfway across Westeros with your mother’s family. That was why you took the skies with Vhagar and her rider. 

Another story you commonly loved was your grandparents, Princess Alyssa and Baelon, the Brave. It seemed Alyssane knew they were bound to each other, so she refused to marry Alyssa, the oldest living daughter of age, to Aemon, the eldest son. Instead, as your father told, she married Alyssa to Baelon, who were the love of each other's lives. 

Hearing about your grandparents was the first time you thought that, perhaps, marrying one of your brothers wouldn’t be awful, or even Jacaerys Velaryon. 

The wedding ceremony for Aegon and Helaena happened when you were a young woman, just entering the age to be betrothed. You knew the expectations were high, above all because of the disputes regarding Rhaenyra’s claim and her children’s legitimacy. 

Honestly, you thought, all of this would have ended if Aegon was married to Rhaenyra, despite the age difference, or Jacaerys to Helaena. However, there was too much pride and ego involved. 

When it came to your pride and ego, you knew that as a Targaryen princess, your wishes mattered to everyone, except for your family. Your father would marry you to whom he saw fit, and your mother would make sure it was a match able to strengthen Aegon’s silent claim. You had a preference, though. With the story of your grandparents in mind, you had your own Baelon.

From the first moment you took the skies together, you knew you were meant to take on life together. He was no Aegon the Conqueror, it was true, but he was your match in more ways than one. 

You were set to be married on the fortnight following your sixteenth name day, but the death of your father changed everything. The horrible deaths of your nephews, the terrible aftermaths of battle, the sheer horror of your family destroying itself from the insides. There was no more poetry, no more songs, no more flying. 

On the fall of a night, you were on the balcony, overlooking Blackwater Bay. You thought that, maybe, if you tried, you could see all the way up to Dragonstone. Maybe, if your sister, almost two decades your senior, looked from her chambers, she could try to see you too. Perhaps, you could make peace, if not for all, for the two of you. 

He walked in quietly behind you, in the same wild but quiet fashion as always. His presence made himself known to you before any sound, and you let him get close enough before acknowledging him. 

“I often imagine what life looked like for our family. Rhaenys and Aegon, for instance. Sometimes, I like to wonder”, you started, voice barely above a whisper, “when our ancestors stood on the balconies of the Red Keep, as we now stand”, you finally turned around, meeting his eyes — one purple, one sapphire, “did they see this line where the sky meets the sea in the same way as we see?”

He was quiet, his one eye passing through your face, down your neck, to your almost sheer purple nightgown, all the way down to your bare feet. You wish you could tell what was happening in his brain. Your brother looked up to your uncle, the Rogue Prince, but you wished he could see the virtues in your father: the curiosity, the longing for beauty, for art. He had it in him, but it wasn’t cultivated. It broke your heart, and it revolted you. 

“Aren’t you cold?”, he asked, and you scoffed. 

“Nyke hae olvie hen nykeā zaldrīzes hae ao, jorrāelagon lēkia (I am as much of a dragon as you, dear brother)”, you straightened your back, and turned again to gaze at the bay and the city.

“Nyke emagon daor doubt, issa mandia (I have no doubt, my sister)”, you could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. You rolled your eyes, not letting the memories flood through you.

He had been your first for everything — your first fight, your first flight, your first kiss, and everything else. 

The tantrum your mother would have thrown had she found out about this years ago… But now, after the babe Jahaerys’ death and Helaena’s exhaustion, you doubt she would care if you appeared with child, as long as the wedding was set to a proper date. 

His right hand raised and rested on your hip, and you felt his body approach yours as he took a step closer. You could feel his breath on your ear, and you slowly closed your eyes.

The thing with fire is that, when not properly controlled by a force equal or bigger than itself, it becomes all consuming. You and Aemond were much like fire — multiplying, growing, and, even if by accident, destroying your surroundings. You had never expected this fire to harm you, but now, you realized just how much fire was a force of nature not to be tamed by any man or woman, regardless of their lineage. You, a Targaryen, would die if a fire brought down your surroundings, just as any commoner.

Aemond’s hand started caressing your hips, and in the silence of the night, high on the Red Keep, away from any prying eyes, you let your head fall to his shoulder. He wasted no time in starting kissing your neck, as his free flew up to your breast. It was natural how your hands reached back to his shoulder length hair, and you let out a soft moan. His kisses found their way near your hear, and he whispered. 

“Hemtubis, nyke jāhor sagon leaving syt Rook's Rest isse naejot rhaenagon rūsīr Ser Criston. Nyke syt nykeā jikagon-pryjagon. (Tomorrow, I will be leaving for Rook's Rest in secrecy to meet with Ser Criston... I hoped for a proper send-off)”. 

You stopped. 

Much like dragons, there was an inexplicable beauty in fire, but it is also fearsome.You hoped Aemond had learned that by now, after the pointless war in your family, but you realized he hadn’t.

You turned in his arms, as he held your hips. He looked amused, tranquil. You, on the other hand, had a frown you knew resembled your mother’s. 

“Aemond”. 

“Sister”.

You laughed lightly. “Surely you do not think of me as a common whore you can call upon when you desire”.

“Of course not, jorrāelagon (dear)”, his hand raised to move a strain of hair from your face, but you moved, stubbornly, to avoid the caress. His head tilted to the side, an amused look on his face. “Are you not to be my wife?”

“I am not yours for anything”, the response was quick, instinctive. By now, he should know you were not a lady for his bedding, but his alike, his sister, a Targaryen princess. Maybe not a warrior as he and your brother, the King, would have liked, but a dragonrider nonetheless.

He seemed all the more entertained by your reply. His hand once more tried to touch your hair, but you slapped it away. Aemond had always been quick to anger and slow to forgiveness, and you knew it. You knew he would take it as a challenge when you fought him, which was why his aggressiveness did not surprise or scare you. He used one hand to pin your wrists together, and the other to grasp at your gown at the height of your waist. You tried to kick him, without any use of your actual strength, and he simply used the size and force of his body to push you against the balcony. 

Heights never scared you, you were a dragonrider and a fearless princess from the blood of Old Valyria. Aemond, however, scared you in this moment, because you knew that no matter how much he loved you, his temper would always be his one true reliable characteristic. For a second you imagined he would let his hand go, and let you fall all the way to the patios beneath. 

His one eye darkened, and his breath was quick. Against your chest, you felt his rise and fall almost rhythmically. He could drop you or throw you, but you would still choose him, you realized. And what a terrible tragedy that was. 

Your realization must have softened your features, for Aemond’s own face calmed. He could destroy you, ruin you, and you’d let him. Your soul was intertwined with his, for better or worse, whether you willed it or no. Walking in this horrible pattern willingly, constantly putting yourself in the way of his temper, denying yourself… Was it self-destructive behavior, as the men with skinny arms in Old Town would say? Perhaps. What a small price to pay this terror was, a price you were willing to pay to be alongside your twin flame. 

The small of your back was still pressed on the balcony when Aemond kissed you, wet and fast. He let go of your pulses, and your hands immediately held to his shoulders for dear life. Was it fear he’d drop you? Was it desire? 

Both.

Aemond passed one hand beneath your legs, and the other supporting your back. He picked you up like it was nothing. One of your hands caressed his neck, and the other laid quietly on his chest.

That fire from a few minutes before had grown, like fire always does. It became a fuel for the desire you had for each other. Walking inside, into your chambers, Aemond threw you on your bed as gently as he knew how. His expression was hungry, and he would have devoured you if he could. 

You moved and sat on the bed as he stood in front of you, eye level with his crotch. You wanted to devour him, too, and there was no better time than the present. With one hand you began to unlace his pants, and with the other you pushed his dress shirt up. You hadn’t realized he was wearing his combat clothes. He was probably training all day. 

He took the hint and took his shirt off, his gaze never leaving you. When his pants dropped to the ground with a quiet sound, he made no move to remove it, or his boots. You couldn’t care less, as his manhood presented itself already fully upward and hard, leaking from the top. His tip was probably one of your favorite parts, because it was always so sensitive, which was exactly why you didn’t start there. 

One hand on his bum and the other making up and down movements on his shaft, you looked into his eye with your best sweet and helpless look. It was one of the things Aemond loved the most about you: that you were his younger, fragile little sister, bound to him, given to him by the Gods to fulfill the Valyrian tradition and his destiny. His member twitched, and he threw his head back when you finally licked a stripe from the base all the way to the tip. 

There you were, bobbing your head up and down, using your tongue to move when you reached the tip of your brother’s beautiful cock. You felt yourself wet, in need of release too, so you took your hand from Aemond’s body to your own, using it to feel your breasts beneath the nightgown. 

This did not go unnoticed by Aemond. Nothing went unnoticed by Aemond. 

“How could I be so selfish, hāedar (sister)?”, he removed himself from your mouth, taking a step back from the back and making you whimper from the loss of contact. 

His face, lit by the moonlight, was the most beautiful of all sights. You were sure you had seen other men, even other Princes, who were charming, but there was no one who could be this alluring. 

How could someone so beautiful be so destructive?

You began to let your body fall back in the bed as Aemond straddled you. By the look on his face, you knew this would be fast and rough. It didn’t scare you. Should it? Should the consequences of it scare you? 

A little princeling with violet eyes and white hair, running through the Keep. The memory of Jaehaerys was painful, but what troubled you most was if this little boy of yours would be a Targaryen or a Waters. 

Still, you let Aemond climb to the top of you, pulling your gown up to your waist, revealing a part of your body that he, and he alone, was familiar with. He pushed the nightgown all the way up, taking it off and leaving you bare, as naked as the day you were born beneath him. 

Very rarely would he take you in this position. Sometimes, he would have you on your hands and knees, face away from him. Most times, he liked to have you ride him, going as far as making jokes that you were mounting the fiercest of Targaryen dragons, and he would hide his face in your breasts. But tonight, his eyes were looking into yours the whole time. 

He entered you quickly, with one deep thrust. Your cunt was ready for him, and he knew it would be; having him in your mouth had this effect on you, always left you throbbing and ready.

As his body would enter yours with force and then leave, making you see stars with the movement of his hips, you raised your legs and intertwined them around his waist. He grabbed both your hands again, this time holding them close to your breasts, which allowed his body to rise in a delicious angle. 

You both had done this enough times to know to be quiet. It was hard keeping the moans in, and you let out little sighs and made a painful expression as he became sloppier. 

Your hips had a life of its own, moving with Aemond’s, trying to get him as deep as possible while also obtained friction. Your brother realized this very quickly, and he let go of your hands to prop himself on his knees and put both your legs on his shoulder. One hand of his went straight to that place where your bodies met, and he began to pressure and circle the one spot he knew would make you feel as good as you were making him feel. 

Warm, wet, welcoming, That was all Aemond wanted. 

Your moans became louder, and you took one hand to your mouth and the other to his chest. You let your nails make a red line down to his stomach, and it wouldn’t be a problem, considering all the training he endured these past days. You were close to screaming when you were about to finish, and Aemond could tell. Your walls began clenching around him, and your juices were rolling down to your bum, making a mess of the linen sheets. 

He let his body fall close to yours and kissed you passionately as you came, muffing out the sounds and making you feel oh, so loved. 

Too bad it only lasted a second. 

“Nyke jāhor mazverdagon ao issa ābrazȳrys, nyke jāhor tepagon ao issa riñar, mandia. ȳdra daor worry. Ao jāhor sagon dāria, se olvie Targārien hen ry queens pār Rhaenys. (I will make you my wife, I will give you my children, sister. Don't worry. You will be Queen, the most Targaryen of all Queens since Rhaenys).”, he murmured in your ear. This thought of his, this pursue of greatness and the Targaryen tradition… This would be his downfall. 

He kept thrusting, completely ignoring you, chasing his release. You laid there, unmoving, thinking about what he had just said. You could never be the Queen Rhaenys, because you could never be Queen. Aegon was married to Helaena, Daemon was married to Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra had five sons, and none of your kin would let go of their claims. 

You felt the warmness of Aemond’s release inside you, and he bit down hard on your neck as he came. 

He could use your body for his own pleasure, it didn’t bother you. He pleased you as he did it, so there was nothing the matter for you. But he couldn’t use your kinship to justify whatever horrors he planned or wished to commit. 

His body left yours, falling with a thud on the bed. He was sweaty, but he smelled like home. What a bizarre thought of yours, that someone’s sweat was comfortable. You turned onto your side to face him, laying on his back with his eyes closed. Would he dare to spend the night? Could he stay for another minute, even, considering this plan on Rook’s Rest? 

“Lēkia (Brother)”, you called him, who opened his eyes slowly and murmured “hm?”. “This war we are fighting with our sister… I have a feeling this will be irreparable for our House. It’s self-destruction, it’s terror. It’s unnecessary”. 

He was quiet, and coolness was always more concerning on Aemond than explosions of rage. 

“Ao issi se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson, mandia. Nyke jāhor daor emagon aōha bartos dīnagon se egros kesrio syt hen īlva kepa's refusal naejot brōzi se drēje prince. (You are the love of my life, sister. I will not have your head put the sword because of our father's refusal to name the correct heir)”, he simply said. He was peaceful, which was all the more concerning. 

“You are destroying yourself, Aemond”, you shaked your head, turning your back to him as he sat on the bed, clearly preparing to leave you once more. “Ao jāhor daor botagon bisa vīlībāzma. (You will not survive this war)”, your heart broke as you spoke what you knew to be the truth. 

Helaena could be a prophetess, Aegon could be King, Daeron could be as daring as he wished. You and Aemond had your fates intertwined, and he seemed ready to let it all burn, destroying himself, you and whatever lifes you hoped to have.

“Mirre hen īlva jāhor (None of us will)”, Aemond, now fully dressed, replied. 

You raised your gaze to meet his. In this darkness, he was still beautiful. There was a part of you, however, that wondered if this was already a memory. Aemond was leaving now, with only hope and faith guarding his return. 

Looking back on that night, many moons later, you knew what he meant with that last comment, right before he left. He thought the people would not survive, but the Targaryen name would. What Aemond didn’t realize is that the destruction was generalized, and it took from all of you, innocent or no, destined for greatness or no, all the same. 

Surely, none of you would survive the battles. 

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Not too smutty but--

Shimmer!Kane is definitely the type to keep your bed "messy" by average standards but insists the blankets are arranged specifically to be a "nest".

Every time you remake the bed, twenty minutes later you come back and it's a mess again; blankets piled and arranged almost perfectly in the middle, pillows strategically placed for the most comfort...

You ask him why but he can't really tell you (instincts, duh!). But it's perfect to snuggle in! (And y'know nice and cosy to pound your brains out later if you want)

I am screaming over this!! (Also I'm so sorry this took me so long!)

Shimmer!Kane x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

A/N: My brain is just like is this a one shot? Is there a part two? What am I doing? Also I have to tag @ominoose just because all of their amazing Kane fics and head canons have just shaped my brain.

Warnings: pining, dry humping, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 811

“Kane, what the fuck?” You sigh, no real heat in your words. 

He looks up at you from where he’s crouched over the bed, the faintest hint of a quizzical expression on his features. 

“What are you doing?” 

He shakes his head a minute, obviously not understanding. 

“I just made the bed, and now you’ve,” you gesture half-heartedly, “done whatever this is.” 

The pillows were piled seemingly haphazardly in the middle, the duet cover bundled up. As you looked you realised that he had also brought the bedding from his own bed onto yours. 

“It’s fine when it’s just your bed, but can you not come in here and mess with mine?”

You’d been assigned to ‘monitor’ him, try to help him adjust back into everyday life after… whatever happened. You weren’t privileged with the details, or even the vague notion.

He continues to look at you with that quiet stare he had, like he was trying to read the dictionary definition for every single word you said. 

You sigh again, moving towards the bed and beginning to put your pillows back at the top of the bed. 

Kane stood quickly, putting his hand softly on your forearm to stop you. You stare at him, a small frown of confusion on your face. 

When he doesn’t say anything for a moment you move to continue your task, but his grip tightens. 

“Stop.” He whispers, his voice barely audible. 

Your frown deepens. “What? Why?” 

You swallow as he stares intently at you, his lips slightly parted, his pupils dilated. It’s only now that you realise how close he’s standing to you. 

“Kane?” You whisper, your heart thudding in your throat. 

He was handsome, of course he was. But looks weren’t everything. 

He was kind, considerate. He listened when you talked, did little things to be helpful, affectionate. He made you drinks without even asking, usually bringing them to you a second after you realised you were thirsty. When the temperature dropped close to freezing a few weeks ago, he’d warm blankets in the tumble dryer and bring them to you, offer you hot water bottles and put your slippers by the radiator when you weren’t wearing them. 

He liked to be in the garden, around plants and animals and taking care of things. The apple tree hadn’t stopped blossoming, despite its leaves coming in since he’d been here. The forget-me-knots hadn’t been hampered by the late frost. Bumble bees and butterflies gathered around the honeysuckle that had bloomed exceptionally early, its sudden growth spurt meaning it was now covering most of the back wall it leant against. 

You liked him being here. 

You liked him. 

Kane carefully placed his hands on your shoulders and gently guided you with your back to the bed before he slowly moved you, urging you to sit  and then lay in the middle of the pillows and blankets. 

You stared up at him, a little bewildered as he climbed in next to you. 

“Comfortable?” He asked in that soft voice of his, but you weren’t sure if it was really a question or just an affirmation. You nod your head anyway. 

He pressed his lips together, deep in thought for a moment on your reaction, before he moves to lay on top of you, pressing his thighs between yours and settling his hips against yours. 

You freeze out of surprise. He’s never done something so bold before. You look up at him, his nose barely an inch from yours. 

Your mouth goes dry, anxiety building under his heavy gaze, like a scientist looking at a specsamin in a jar. 

“Kane,” you whisper, “what are you doing?”

“Are you uncomfortable?” 

You shake your head without thinking and there’s a little flicker of emotion that crosses his face. Satisfaction, you think. 

“Why, erm,” your mind is short circuiting with him this close, the warmth radiating off his skin, the sweet, almost floral smell that permanently surrounds him fills your lungs. The way the hard outline of his cock presses against your core. “Why did you bring your blankets in here?” You blurt out. 

“Making a nest,” he says simply, like that was all the information you would need. “Wanted it to smell like us.” 

He dips his head lower, nuzzling against the side of your neck and breathing deeply. 

“A nest?” You gasp as he rocks his hips against yours, leaning closer so that your chests are flush. 

“Hmm.” He continues to run his lips and cheeks over your neck, feeling your skin and sighing contently. All the while he rolls his hips languidly, dragging his cock against your heat. 

You can’t hold back the shudder and whine as his fly presses deliciously against your clit. 

While it doesn’t hamper his movements, the sound obviously amuses him and he focuses his actions solely on making you repeat it.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

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[xxx-wounded-angel-xxx]

Tear you appart - Felix Volturi x reader

Felix Volturi x fem! reader - contains smut

3456 words

content warning : swearing, darker and wilder than my usual Felix, possessive Felix, size difference (both him and reader like it) - Smut ahead ! please no judgment, this is the first time I'm writing some I tried my best I feel so embarrassed 😅 Stop at the divider if you don't want the smutty part that contains : dirty talk, voice kink, size kink, penetration, virgin reader (she's an adult in her 20's !), praise kink

Taglist : @agirllovespancakes <3

At first, you weren’t sure what to make of your mate. First, Felix was big. Like…two meters tall and really muscular. Like wow. And second, he… was busy. Like very busy, which you could comprehend since he was one of the highest ranked guards of the Volturi Coven. And the executioner… that's it you had said it. His job was to brutally kill people, and you did not fully know what to make of him because of that.

He was kind to you of course. But you could barely see him. He had a very important place in the coven after all, it would be mean to hold it against him, he couldn’t help it after all. But it was making it harder for you to understand him, how could you get to know him better if he wasn’t there with you?

Ever since you were staying with the Volturi after finding out that you were Felix’s soulmate, your existence had gotten kind of lonely. The current secretary would go shopping with you if you needed something but you were mostly staying in your quarters that were adjacent to Felix’s. So, you decided to spend the time by decorating as much as you could your quarters to your own taste.

As a goth, you took advantage of the Halloween season to buy home decor. Artificial black roses, deep red and purple ones, black lace curtains, gothic prints you paired with vintage looking frames Heidi found for you in an abandoned room… You kept the walls white but painted the furniture black. Lots of bookshelves were acquired to hold your book collection, CDs and DVDs, Felix had made sure you had a good TV and even better stereo when you said you basically lived with music. Anne Stokes and Victoria Frances’ art hung all over your walls, nemesis now dark fairy figures and cult cuties shelved neatly above your desk, nightmare before Christmas plushies and figures scattered all around your quarters with the occasional Hello Kitty and Kuromi: it was starting to look like home.

When December came by you bought red velvet curtains, and red crystal beads. A lot of them. Surprisingly, you were now finding every week rose bouquet, that you would put to dry and keep in elegant vases. You were sure they were from Felix, even if he never mentioned it the few times the two of you had met in November.

You were working on the canopy of the bed, after installing the black lace curtains and strings of white pearls that were easy to find as Christmas tree ornament, you were making garlands of red crystal beads that would reflect the light all around your bed canopy. Attaching bead after bead, you were disrupted by Felix. You looked at him, surprised as you saw him sit beside you on the black silk sheets of your bed.

“Good evening my darling mate”

This evening, you finally got to spend time with your mate. He apologized for his lack of presence beside you, the coven had been exceptionally busy and he had not been able to give you the time you deserved. But now, he was here, and could finally take care of you, his mate, properly.

You talked for hours that night, She Wants Revenge playing low in the background as you finally got to know each other.

But no matter how interesting this all was, you were getting tired. Felix noticed your yawn, and with a smile put you to bed, tucking you in and gently kissed your forehead goodnight.

Your Felix held his promise. Week after week you got to know the other better. Going from strangers to friends… to more. After a few months you realized that Felix wasn’t a friend anymore. No, he was more. You wanted him to be more. But it wasn’t easy. He was your soulmate! It was supposed to be easy! But it wasn’t. At all.

Spring came and left, and so did summer. It was the middle of autumn, and you still did not know how to tell your soulmate you liked him. How could you? How could a simple human compare to a vampire? He had not turned you yet, it seemed that he quite enjoyed your human habits for now. Maybe he liked your softness, the warmth of your skin or the color of your eyes? But that did not resolve your problem. How could you tell him when you had never done this before? You were in your twenties and not had your fist kiss yet!

You had started a diary to keep your memories, express your feelings and your thoughts. And the most recent entries were all about him. About Felix, the gleam in his eyes, the way his skin shone brightly under the sunlight, how hot you had found the glimpses of his toned and muscular body you had been able to see, the way his thunderous laugh made your heart smile… How… You love him. That’s it, you had admitted it fully: you loved him. It was written black on white in your diary. Your heart was in his hands. You did not need a prayer when you had his name.

That was the last line you wrote, leaving your diary on your bed as you left your bedroom to take a relaxing bath before going to bed in your favorite attire.

You came out of the bathroom, all clean and fresh, humming some She Wants Revenge song, when you froze. Felix. Felix was sitting on your bed. Felix was sitting on your bed holding your diary. Felix was reading your diary where you very explicitly wrote how much you loved him. Fuck.

 When Felix looked at you, you felt like you could die from embarrassment. You tried to leave, but in the blink of an eye you found yourself your back against a wall, Felix’s body pressed against yours preventing you from running away. Anyway, where would you have gone? This was your room, for fuck’s sake! You shivered as he used his big hand to raise your head so he could look you in the eyes.

“You meant it?”

“What”

“What you wrote in your diary about me. You mean it?”

You had never seen Felix that serious before, his husky voice had lost all humor.

“It… It is… Yes, it is true. I … I really mean it.”

You blurted out the last words, anxious. What if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear? What if he hated you now? What if… Wait, why was he smiling?

“You have no idea how long I’ve longed for this. May I?”

You nodded, not sure what he was asking for. He cupped your cheek, and to your surprise he kissed you. You closed your eyes.

It was better than what you had read in your books, much better. His lips were soft against yours, his kiss tender but quite possessive at the same time. You returned it, quite clumsily due to your inexperience, but still with enthusiasm. He was the one to break it so you could breathe again. You were only human after all. Your body needed it.

“Damn, that was…”

He laughed at your reaction.

“Can you do it again?”

Smirking, he eagerly accepted your request.

Later, when you were too tired to stay awake, Felix accepted to stay under the covers and hold you. The feeling of his strong and much bigger body wrapped around your much smaller frame brought unholy thoughts to your mind, that you quickly shook away, but it still let you the time to show slight embarrassment. You thought for a moment that Felix would take advantage of it, but he didn’t, only kissing the top of your head and bringing you closer to his body.

“Does that mean that we are together now?” “You could say that dolcezza.” “So you’re my boyfriend?” “Absolutely not. I’m your mate. If you want a more human term, just say that I’m your husband.”

You looked at him, shocked, and that little shit that was your mate had the biggest grin you’d ever seen.

“I… I think mate is an appropriate term.” “As you wish.”

Your heart was beating so fast he couldn’t not hear it, and his bright smile was the confirmation. Luckily for you, Felix had decided to go easy on you for tonight. But you feared what his teasing would be like…

You fell asleep with these thoughts in mind, Felix’s arms holding you tight against him. “Buonanotte tesoro mio, ti amo…”

When you woke up the next day, Felix was still here, holding you.

“Hi” “Hi. Slept well?” “Yes” “Good”

Bringing you closer to him, Felix buried his face in your neck. You froze as it felt like he was smelling you, and he left a kiss where he could feel your pulse. Being this close to him felt nice, really nice. He smelled good, too. Something musky, homey.

“Are you sniffing me?” “You did a few moments ago” “Touché.” A pause. “So?” “You smell nice. Like home.” “Ah, that’s a mate thing, you know? I smell good like that to you only.” “And me? What do I smell like?” “The tastiest thing I’ve ever met.” “Felix!” “What?! You should take this as a compliment! You smell delicious!”

He had that cocky look that looked so good on him. You couldn't wait to spend forever with him.

It was near Christmas now. More than one year since you met Felix, a few months since you realized you loved him, and a few weeks since the two of you were fully mated. Well fully… There was something the two of you had not done yet. It was… sex. For fuck’s sake, you were an adult, you could say the word sex! But… that did not erase the fact that you had basically no experience in dating. Felix was your first kiss… and would be your first lover. The thing was that he was not aware of it. How could you tell him! This man was cocky enough, if you told him, it would sign you way to a never-ending teasing! Fuck. Wait, that was the point! This man – or vampire – was going to be the death of you.

Your thoughts were a complete mess. You were sure than even Aro couldn’t understand a single shit if he were to read your mind. Which was why it was a good thing that he hadn’t asked for a while. But maybe it could actually help? Wait no! You couldn’t let him know you were desperately trying to get in the pants of his executioner. All of it was driving you crazy.

You tried to keep up with appearances with Felix, behaving as normal as you could with him, but you couldn’t help but let some touches linger more than necessary, brush against him every time you were close with him, dragging the kisses as long as you could without accidentally killing yourself from the lack of oxygen… All of it you thought Felix didn’t notice. But that was forgetting something: your mate was very much a predator. And as a human, you were very much prey for him, even as his mate.

Your heartbeat running faster when he was close, the way his low voice would send shivers down your spine, or how some kisses and touches could get you clenching your thighs… Felix noticed everything, and your asshole of a mate was reveling in it, your love like the thrill of the hunt. He took great pleasure in it, day after day, trying to drive you crazy until you would be your back against a wall, forced to tell him exactly what you wanted. And he would make sure you beg for it, dragging the thrill of the hunt as long as he could. But lucky for you, he loved you more than it. He would try to not make you beg, not too much at least.

Your Felix had become great at reading you, your expressions, your desires. And being as old as he was, it had not been hard for him to put two and two together: the way you returned his affection, always eager but also quite clumsily, always holding back afraid of going too far or doing wrong… That darker, possessive side off him was extremely satisfied of it, no one had touched you like that before, no one but him, you were forever his.

After a few weeks, your struggles were not funny anymore, he wanted you to feel desired, to not see your inexperience as a bad thing. You were so damn beautiful and desirable; he would show you how much he wanted you.

He would be off duty for the next few days, it was perfect. The next time he would get in your bed, you would not be sleeping for a good while.

For the past few days, it seemed like Felix was toying with you, always managing to get you where and how he wanted. He was slowly taking you out of your comfort zone, it was like he had something in mind as he would hold you close, soft breath in the crook of your neck sending shivers down your spine. He would let you back up if you were too uncomfortable, of course, but the bastard knew what he was doing, always taking you further and further of your comfort zone without crossing your boundaries, teaching you a few things about you in the meantime. Damn, did you always have that size and voice kink or was it of his doing? Fuck, you had no idea but did not care much, it was too good for the reasons why to matter anymore.

All of this led you to that very moment, your Felix towering over you, your back against the wall of your room. Voice low, whispering in your ear, driving you crazy.

“Aren’t you pretty like that, all flustered? Your blood smell so good I might just eat you…”

Of course, this led you to grow even more flustered, your blood rushing and tempting him even more. He took another step, and lowered his head even more, leaving cold kisses on your neck, his cool breath driving you crazy. You move your head to give him a better access, and let out a soft moan as his teeth scrap your neck.

“You like that don’t you? To be all helpless as soon as I touch you. My beautiful darling…”

He lifts you, claiming your lips and you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist. He bites your lower lip, and you let out a soft gasp, your Felix taking advantage of it, his tongue meeting yours to explore your mouth. After a while the two of you part, soft panting can be heard from you. At this moment, you realize you left your stereo on, and as your notice what song is playing you send to hell every hesitation and kiss him passionately.

“I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, close your eyes, girl, so lovely, it feels so right

I want to hold you close, soft breast, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear, "I wanna fucking tear you apart"

It drives the both of you crazy, leaving you only wanting more, more than everything you had already done. So when Felix carries you to the bed, you continue to kiss him. When he lays you on the bed, climbing on top of you, you drag him close and deepen the kiss. When he takes off your shirt, you unbutton his, hands roaming everywhere on the other’s body in a frenzy haze, kisses left everywhere.

“I want you” you pause. “No, I need you.” You let out a moan as he rips your bra and leave kisses on your breast, a smile oh so smug brightening his face as he finds your sensitive spot. You writhe underneath him, clenching your thighs together, left wanting more, needing more of him.  

“Felix…” His name leaves your mouth as a soft moan, and he can’t help but chuckle at your neediness, he’s finally got you where he wants you to be, he’s going to drag on this teasing as much as he can.

“That’s my name darling, say it again…”

He’s so smug but you can’t help but do as he say, especially when his pants and yours disappear, and his hand slip in your silky panties. As he brushes against your clit, you can’t help but buckle your hips, trying to get more friction where you need him the most.

“Eager, aren’t we?”  Always that smug expression, he knows he is driving you crazy and he revels in it: you’re his and he is the only one able to get these reactions from you. He leans over you, pressing his body against yours, claiming your lips once again. You whimper as you can feel his hard bulge against you, increasing your arousal to an extent you didn’t know was possible. But you weren’t the only one left craving for more.

“Please Felix…” “I need you to use your words tesorina. Tell me, what you want?” “You. I want you I need you!” “So greedy my darling… Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer him as he rips your panties, throwing away what’s left of them before making his own underwear meet the same fate. He’s bigger than you anticipated, yet the only thing you can focus on is how much you want him inside of you.

Not breaking eye contact with you, he strokes his penis a few times, making sure it’s slick with his precum and your arousal, and get on top of you, teasing your wet folds with his hard length.

“Are you sure you want this?” He looks at you with such seriousness, trying to read your face and be sure this is what you want, that he’s not going further than you’re comfortable with. “Yes Felix please” “You only have one word to say and I’ll stop if it’s too much for you”

You nod, and satisfied with your approval Felix thrust into you. You moan at the feeling; you feel so full of him. You expected it to hurt, being your first time, but it doesn’t, your love prepared you enough.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it my darling? My cock filling you up, bringing you more pleasure than you’ve ever had.”

You can only whine and moan, too lost in the pleasure you’re experiencing for the first time. Felix eats up every of your reactions, satisfied that only him get to make you feel this good.

“You’re so responsive to my touch” Felix praises you, and his words do something to you you weren’t aware of it being possible. Something good. Really good. Felix, attentive to all of your reactions, notice and whispers sweet praises in your ear, driving you wild. He thrusts faster, eliciting more moans from you. It feels so good, you can only focus on him and the pleasure he gives you, moaning his name.

“I love hearing you cry out my name, tesoro. It’s music to my ears.”

He finally finds an especially sensitive spot of yours, hitting it relentlessly, eliciting moan after moan from you. He growls in pleasure, getting you closer and closer. You feel something ready to snap inside of you.

“Please Felix I’m close so close!” “That’s it darling, come for me.” He kisses your shoulder. “Come for me, let me feel how much you love me. I’ll be right behind you, filling you with everything I have.”

The pad of this finger brushes against your clit, and with his dirty words it’s enough to make you snap, riding the first climax of your life. Your Felix follows quickly, his cool cum filling your cunt as he moans your name, “you’re mine all mine my [Y/N] forever mine never letting you go my sweet and beautiful [Y/N]”

You fall back on the bed, trembling with pleasure and exhaustion. Sliding out of you, Felix admires for a moment your mixed release dripping down your inner thighs, before laying down beside you and holding you close, whispering sweet praises in your ear. He kisses your forehead tenderly, and you snuggle closer to him.

“I love you” “I love you too tesorina”

Exhausted, you fall asleep, safe and spent in your mate’s arms, Felix never letting you go for a second, holding you tight against him the whole time. This is what eternity should feel like, and he will make sure it always is that way for you.  

[archangeldyke-all]

hello sevika lovers happy saturday! here's a nasty little smutty piece for you from me.

have a lovely weekend! love,

angel :)

men and minors DNI, i'll block tf out of u

modern au

sevika's some kind of high level exec. business owner with silco. he handles the marketing and she handles the numbers.

the two of you met years ago when her business was just starting to take off. silco had hired you to help design a logo for them, and in the process you'd spent quite a bit of time getting to know the duo.

for a few months, you met with silco and sevika once or twice a week to discuss and tweak your designs. after the first few meetings, silco started sending sevika to meet with you alone, sick of feeling like a third wheel during business meetings.

you weren't subtle about your infatuation with the woman, but you kept it professional--she was your boss after all.

after three months and dozens of meetings with sevika (most of which went hours over scheduled-- both of you getting too caught up in flirting and chatting to notice the time flying) you finalized the design and got your final paycheck.

you figured that that was the end of your little flirtatious fling with sevika, until a week later she's pounding on your door with a bundle of flowers hidden behind her back.

"sevika?" you asked, surprised to see the woman standing in your doorway.

"hi. uh. silco said my brooding was ruining the atmosphere at the office. told me to suck it up and go for it so..." you had no idea what she was talking about until she revealed the flowers to you and shoved them into your chest. "i was wondering if you'd ever like to get some food with me. you know. not for work."

"like a date?" you asked. she nodded.

you kissed her in response. (and she fucked you against your front door before trimming and arranging the flowers in a vase for you.)

anyways since then you've been inseparable.

she marries you the second she has some substantial money put away in her savings.

most days she's able to keep her work away from home, but come the end of every business quarter, work gets exceptionally busy for her and she doesn't have any choice but to sprawl out in her home office, crunching numbers and reviewing accounts night after night after night.

one of these evenings, you come home and find her hunched over her desk, glasses slipping down her nose, rubbing her temples.

for a few minutes, you simply admire her as she jabs at her calculator and shuffles through her files. eventually, she notices you, the tension in her shoulders melting at the sight of you. you saunter over to her and she grins.

"hi baby" you say, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"mmmh." she says as she buries her face into your tits, her arms snaking around your waist. you scratch her scalp, and you can swear you hear her purring.

"how much longer have you got?" you ask her. she groans into you long and dramatic, and you giggle, pressing kisses on her head.

"hour and a half, two hours maybe." she says. "why? you wanna distract me?" she looks up at you with a salacious smile. you laugh, flicking her forehead.

"get your work done and i'll give you a back massage." you say, pulling away from her. you gently push her glasses up her nose for her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. she sighs.

"fine." she says, shooing you away.

you go , stripping and putting on your jammies, (one of sevika's old t shirts and a pair of panties.) sipping on a large glass of wine after a long day.

you put on some soft music in the kitchen, whipping up a quick meal for yourself and sevika.

when you wander back into her office about half an hour later, she's so focused she doesn't even notice you.

you place her food beside a tall stack of folders, then pour her a big glass of whiskey from her bar cart. you press a quick kiss in her hair.

she hums, reaching out to grab your wrist, keeping you beside her as she finishes some calculation. when shes done, she sets down her pencil and looks up at you.

you pout down at your wife, tracing the dark bags under her eyes with your thumbs. "poor baby." you whisper. "workin' so hard."

sevika hums in agreement as she nuzzles into your touch. you laugh at her. "come here." she demands, patting her lap with one hand and pulling you toward her with her other

you comply, straddling her lap. her hands find your waist, while yours snake around her shoulders. "you think this chair can hold the both of us?" you ask as the chair lets out a pathetic squeak beneath the two of you. sevika doesn't respond, too busy pressing kisses into your neck and jaw. you hum, running your fingers through her hair.

"fuckin' miss you." she mumbles into your neck.

"'m right here, honey." you say. her hands begin to massage your hips.

"yeah but i haven't gotten to fuck you in weeks." she grumbles. this makes you cackle.

"we fucked this morning!" you say. you feel her smile against your neck.

"been so busy lately, been neglecting my wifely duties." she continues. you laugh again. she begins sucking a hickey into the flesh of your neck. "been neglecting you, huh?" she asks. you laugh.

"you're not getting anything from me until you're done with your work, babe." you say to her. she nips your skin and you screech.

"why not?" she asks petulantly, grip becoming tighter on your hips. you have to pull her away from your neck by her half pony.

"because you've got important things to do. businessy things. dinner things. things for silco. and if we start now, you know we won't stop until we're both asleep."

"you're more important than any of that shit." she whispers. you smile, pushing her back in the chair, slowly unbuttoning the top few buttons of her black silk button up for her, pushing her glasses up to sit on her head. the more you undress her, the harder getting off her lap seems.

her grip on your hips is so tight now you'd struggle to leave now anyways. she's got a cocky little smile on her lips, like she knows she's won, and you can't help but huff in annoyance.

with a grin, sevika pulls down on your hips as she thrusts up against you. you gasp when you feel a hard bulge in her pants.

"fuck, sev." you whisper. she grins as she begins to grind you down on her crotch. "when did you even put that on?" you ask with a giggle.

"kept it on after i fucked you this morning. wanted to remember the noises you made all day." you groan, pulling sevika's shirt out of where it was tucked into her pants, clawing at her abs. "so...?" sevika asks.

"what?"

"you gonna distract me for a bit, sweetheart?" she asks.

you roll your eyes but nod anyways, grinding small circles into sevika's lap as she grins up at you. "you're fuckin' annoying." you whisper down at her. she chuckles.

"you're the one who married me." you roll your eyes at her, before smacking at the grip she has on your hips.

"lemme go." you whisper. she pouts. you kiss her in reassurance, whispering in her ear. "not going far." sevika's grip doesn't relent, and you roll your eyes, biting her ear lobe. "come on baby. gotta get your dick wet before you can put it in me." you say, popping the button on her pants. she moans and lets go, hands flying to help you push her pants down. you giggle as she wiggles out of her pants, sliding off her lap and onto the floor between her legs as she pulls her strap out.

"fuck." she whispers at the sight of you. you lick your lips when her strap pops out of her pants, seven thick inches of purple silicone that never fails to make you scream. you don't waste time, both of your hands coming up to grip her thighs, pressing a kiss to the tip of the strap as your eyes flick up to catch hers.

sevika always loses her mind when you suck her strap, swears she can feel it, swears it's the hottest thing in the world to watch. she's cum from it a few times when she's particularly desperate, and it never fails to get you soaking fucking wet watching her fall apart above you.

sevika snakes a hand into your hair, gripping at the roots. she guides your head down the strap, and you keep your eyes locked on hers as you relax your throat and take her to the hilt.

tears begin to well in your eyes as sevika holds you down on her cock, and she waits until they fall down your cheeks before pulling you off to let you breathe. "shit baby, you're so fuckin' good at that." she whispers as you gasp to catch your breath.

you grin and spit on her strap, giggling as her hips jolt. you jerk the silicone up and down, pressing kisses on every inch of the shaft, soaking it in your saliva, never letting your eyes leave sevika's unless it's to close your eyes as you moan.

taking the strap back into your mouth, you begin to bob your head up and down, nasty gagging and squelching sounds starting up from between your lips. "g-god fuck." sevika whines. "shit listen to you. fuckin' gaggin' on it, huh baby?" you nod up at her. she tightens her grip on your hair and you relax, allowing your wife to control your movements as she begins to throat fuck you.

"f-f-fuck honey, shit." sevika grunts as she starts thrusting her hips up into your mouth. your clit is throbbing in your panties, and you're sure you've soaked them through by now. clenching your thighs together brings you some relief, but nowhere near enough.

when you snake one of your hands away from where you were gripping her thighs to rub between your legs, sevika groans.

"fuckin' touching yourself, baby?" she asks. you whimper, two of your fingers easily sliding inside of your sopping wet hole. "fuck, you're so nasty. getting off on this. shit is that you?" sevika asks when the wet sloshing sounds of your fingers massaging your inner walls start. you whimper around her cock in response. "jesus fucking christ." sevika growls. "get the fuck up here. lemme feel how wet that pussy is for me."

before you know what's happening, she's pulling you off her cock and back up into her lap.

your chin, neck, and the front of your t-shirt are soaked in your drool, a small puddle of your saliva's grown at the base of sevika's strap, which prods deliciously against your cunt as you get comfortable in her arms again. she hugs you to her chest, pressing kisses against you everywhere she can reach, into your hair, against the tear tracks on your cheeks, down your neck. she hugs your waist with one hand, and with the other, she pulls your panties to the side and starts rubbing your wet cunt.

"need something?" she teases as you twitch against her hold. you bite her neck and reach down to grab her wrist, pushing her fingers toward your hole.

"gotta stretch me out before i can take your dick, baby." you whisper. a shiver runs down sevika's spine. "and your fingers feel so much better than mine." you say. sevika groans and she slides her pointer finger into you. your thighs quake. "m-more i can take more, 'm wet enough for more baby." you gasp when she shoves a second finger inside you.

"feel good?" she whispers against your ear as you grind down on her fingers. she starts shallow thrusts in and out of your cunt, pushing against your g spot on each thrust.

"m-m-more." you whisper, orgasm creeping up on you. "another sev, please, you're gonna make me cum." she growls as she begins fucking a third finger in your cunt. the stretch stings, sevika's thick fingers bullying their way into your pussy, and you whimper and whine until her third finger finally slides in along side her other two. your pussy clenches, and her fingers press right up against your g spot, and you see stars.

"fuckin' cum for me." sevika growls. "cum on my fingers then i'll make you cum on my cock." you gasp. "fuck, you're soaking my hand honey." she whispers, grinding her fingers inside you as her palm rubs against your clit. you bite down on her neck, your thighs shaking, your back arching. "there you go baby, there you go. so perfect for me. such a good mouth. such a good cunt, baby, shit. takin' me so perfectly, you're gonna look so good all fucked out and dumb riding my cock."

you gasp and cum, her words going straight to your cunt. "fuckin' good girl, just like that. i fuckin' love you, holy shit, look at you." sevika babbles as you tremble in her hold. "shit baby. 'm gonna knock you up." she whispers in awe as you collapse against her, the last waves of your orgasm dying down.

you chuckle at her words, kissing her neck as you try to catch your breath.

sevika rubs your back with her free hand, peppering kisses against your head.

when you pull back to look her in the eyes, you melt. she's looking at you with a lovesick expression, the same expression she wore after the first time you kissed her, the same expression she wore watching you walk down the aisle, the same expression she wears every time you cum for her. you grin and lean forward to kiss her sappy smile off her face.

as you kiss her, you grab her wrist where her fingers are still buried inside you. you whine as you help her ease her thick fingers out of your cunt, the emptiness after the lovely stretch of your wife's fingers feeling foreign.

"you okay?" sevika asks against your lips. you pull away nodding. with a gentle tug, you bring her hand up to your face. sevika looks confused until you open your mouth for her-- lust quickly overtaking her features as she shudders.

she shoves her fingers in your mouth and the two of you moan simultaneously: you at the taste of your cum on your wife's fingers, sevika at the feeling of your tongue and lips sucking on her fingers.

"you're fuckin' nasty" she whispers, impressed. you chuckle around her fingers. you've been using the same few moves on sevika since you met, and she's just as shocked and turned on each and every time.

she shoves her fingers deep as they'll go, watching as your drool starts collecting and sliding down her hand and your chin, before pulling her hand away and smashing her lips against yours, shoving her tongue in her mouth like she was trying to get just as deep as her fingers were. one of her hands reaches back to grip your ass, the other snakes up your shirt to squeeze your tits. you reach behind you to guide her strap toward your cunt, huffing in frustration as you struggle to line her up right.

sevika pulls away from your mouth with a pop, spit strings connecting the two of you as she pulls away. you gasp for air as she reaches down to help you hold the strap up. "here you go baby." she whispers.

she's so sweet it almost makes you feel bad for what you're about to do to her.

almost.

you smile up at her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips as she guides the tip of the strap inside you. the strap and your cunt are both so slippery that even with the two of you coordinating and guiding it, it takes a few tries to get it in.

when the tip does slide in, though, you both moan simultaneously. (you laugh a bit, because sevika can't even see the strap but she somehow knows it's inside you. she always swears she can feel you through it, and you're starting to think she really can)

her hands clutch at your hips, trying to be patient, but after so long together you can see the desperation creeping up on her. it's in the way her hold on you has become bruising, in the way her pupils are blown so wide she looks fucking high, in the way she's shuffling her feet beneath the two of you, trying to keep from thrusting into you. she's so sweet to you, so good, and you're about to break her poor heart, so you lean forward and give her a nasty kiss before pulling away and ripping your shirt over your head, determined to give her a good show.

sevika's gaze snaps to your tits, a grin growing on her lips, and you arch your back as you slowly sink down on her cock, giving her a good view of her slowly disappearing inside you.

your legs are shaking by the time you're sat on her lap, her strap buried inside you. "fuck-" you whisper. sevika gulps.

"you okay?" she asks. you close your eyes and nod, biting your lip and grinding tiny little circles against her. you both shudder at the movement.

you finally compose yourself, stilling your movements, taking a deep breath, and opening your eyes. your lovely wife is studying your body with a furrow between her brows, lip between her teeth, looking at you with the same intensity she was looking at her work earlier. though she looks much less bored this time. you gulp.

"sev." you whisper. her eyes snap up to yours. a nervous flutter flashes through your stomach when your eyes meet. sevika looks like she's gonna eat you alive. shit.

in an effort to placate her before you rip the bandaid off, you start gently scratching her scalp, running your fingers through her hair like you always do at night when you're trying to lull sevika to sleep. some of the tension leaves her body, she melts into her seat, sighing and blinking slowly at you. "sevika." you say, gathering your bravery, trying not to smile with nerves and betray yourself.

"yeah baby?" she asks. fuck. her voice sounds like sex.

you lean forward, pressing your body against hers, burying your head into her neck, pressing a gentle kiss there before nuzzling in and sighing. "you better hurry up and finish your work if you wanna fuck me before i fall asleep." you say.

sevika freezes. you close your eyes and bite your lip and wait for her to speak.

you hear the sound of her mouth opening and closing. like she's trying to talk but no words are coming out. you sneak a glance at her, and grin.

sevika looks shocked. her mouth is wide open, her eyes are widened in surprise, her brows reaching for her hairline. her hands are suspended in the air like she's not sure what to do with them.

you make the mistake of giggling, and her eyes snap to yours.

"you..." she whispers, eyes flashing from your cunt to your face to your hand still running through her hair. "are you serious?" she asks, dumbfounded.

you try your best to look innocent, widening your eyes, like who me? biting your lip in an attempt to hide your guilty smile. if the incredulous smirk sevika's face morphs into at the sight of you is anything to go by-- your attempt at innocence fails.

it's a stand off for a minute, sevika waiting for you to break, you waiting for sevika to get back to work.

you lean forward and give her nose a little kiss pulling her glasses back down and straightening them on her nose, tucking her hair behind her ears. "dont forget to eat your dinner too, baby" you whisper, settling back down against her shoulder.

your heart is pounding against your chest and your cunt is pounding around sevika's strap. you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath, waiting for her to react. for a minute, she does nothing, her hands suspended in midair.

then, she scoffs, sniffs, clears her throat, and picks up her pencil. the gentle scratch of pencil against paper fills the room and you grin in victory against her throat. she must feel the curve of your smile against her neck, because sevika scoffs and shakes her head above you, then she brings her free hand down on your ass with a resounding smack.

you gasp, your hips jolting in shock, causing you both to moan. sevika swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and gets back to scratching numbers behind you.

it takes you ten solid minutes to get your heart rate under control, but eventually, you and sevika start to sag into each other more and more. you sigh into her neck as the tension in your back slowly melts away, and she presses a gentle kiss against your scalp in return.

at one point, she stops writing, and takes a couple bites of her dinner, grunting as she does. she squeezes your ass and mumbles against your head "'s really good babe. thank you." you hum a happy sound and kiss her neck.

the hand on your ass starts to gently trace little numbers in your skin, which is so fucking cute it makes you a little dizzy. you have to bite your tongue to keep from kissing her senseless and breaking her focus.

your breath catches in your throat every other minute when sevika will intermittently claw your ass like a stress toy as she mutters under her breath, cursing her calculator, or a client, and occasionally just silco himself for "talkin' me into this fucking business shit." like she hasn't been doing 'this fucking business shit' for over a decade now.

she pushes her head into your hand when your scratching stops, like a cat demanding more attention. you giggle and begin to play with her hair again. she sighs sweetly in thanks.

eventually sevika snaps one folder closed and opens another. she jostles you a bit in the process. "sorry baby." she mumbles. you hum.

"'s okay."

"you're not falling asleep are you?" she asks suddenly, panicked, her grip on your ass tightening. you laugh.

"not yet."

"you tired?" she asks. you are, but nowhere near tired enough to fall asleep with sevika's cock buried inside you. still, you decide to tease her.

"a little."

"tell me about your day." she demands. you scoff, but start talking regardless.

you mumble against sevika's neck for a while she works behind you and hums and laughs at your words. after a while you trail off and run out of things to say, so sevika starts speaking in short little bursts between tasks and problems. what she ate for breakfast. the guy she watched step in dog shit this morning, how he almost caught her laughing. that she hates the arm exercises her new physical therapist gave her.

as time goes on, sevika's mindless groping of your ass becomes a little more intentional. her hips beneath you start shifting minutely, intermittent at first, but soon she's just grinding up into you. you bite your lip, trying to ignore her, but she just takes it as a challenge.

"i'm still trying to decide if i'm impressed or betrayed by your little stunt." she grunts out. you chuckle nervously.

"fuckin' dramatic." you whisper. "'m just trying to make sure you keep your job. like a responsible wife."

"like a tease."

"that too." you giggle.

suddenly, sevika's got both her hands on your hips, grinding you down onto her strap hard. you squeal.

"fuck sev!" you curse. "you--you've gotta do your work first." you say as your hands go flying down to grip her wrists. she grins at you.

"just finished." she growls.

you gulp, your cunt clencing, your heart rate picking up. you give up on trying to control the way sevika's grinding you against her lap, instead just holding your breath in anticipation of what she's gonna do to you.

"so whaddya think?" she asks. you whimper.

"'bout what?"

"should i feel betrayed or impressed?" you smile, leaning forward to kiss sevika.

"impressed. duh." you whisper against her lips. "got you to finish your work twice as fast." you say with a waggle of your eyebrows. sevika chuckles and shakes her head in amusement. she leans forward and gives you a sweet little kiss. you hum against her lips, only to screech when in a flash, sevika shoots up with you in her arms, setting you down on the desk in front of her, pinning your legs by up under your shoulders and looming down over you. you blink.

"dont make too much of a mess, baby, i gotta give these papers to silco tomorrow." is the only warning you get before she's pistoning her hips in and out of you at a brutal pace.

you scream and sevika grins.

"what'd you think was gonna happen, babe? thought you were gonna tease me like that 'n get away with it?" your hands flail, clawing at papers, before smoothing them out, then reaching up to claw at sevika instead. "huh?" she asks. you blink, then shake your head no with a chuckle. "no?" she asks, surprised. you laugh.

"knew i wouldn't get away with it. that's half the fun, sev." you whisper. she laughs and ducks down to kiss you.

"you're an evil fuckin' genius, baby." she says against your lips between panting breaths as she fucks you at a brutal pace.

your cunt is squelching between the two of you and sevika shakes her head in admonishment. "fuck did i say honey?" she spits. you huff. "told you not to get messy and you're already laying in a puddle." she growls against you.

"c-can't help it." you whine.

"no?"

"feels- fuck- feels so good baby." you moan. sevika growls, pressing one last firm kiss onto your lips before pulling away completely.

she pulls back, pulls her strap out of you, lets go of your legs, leaves you spread out and fucked open on the middle of her desk, whining and empty.

"fuck, you're pretty." she whispers. she grins down at you for a second, reaches forward to tweak your nipples, and then she's flipping you over.

you land on your stomach with a grunt, a shiver running down your spine as sevika presses your face down against her desk with one of her hands and guides her cock inside you with the other.

"fuck!" you gasp. sevika chuckles, starts fucking you with shallow little thrusts as she gropes your ass. "sevika." you whine.

"what's wrong baby?" she asks, chuckling as she watches you twitch and writhe beneath her.

"deeper, please." you ask. she hums, hitches one of your legs up on to the desk beside you, then slides all the way inside.

you whimper. the new angle makes her cock feel two inches bigger.

"that good enough for you?" sevika spits from above you. "huh? your greedy cunt finally satisfied baby?" she asks. you nearly cum at her words.

"sevika!" you gasp out. she laughs and starts grinding deep little circles into you.

"fuck. love watching your cunt clench around me like that baby. so fuckin' pretty. you're creamin' all over me baby, shit." sevika rambles. your eyes roll back in your head and you start rambling, desprate and needy.

"sevika, sev, baby, fuck me. please honey, fuck me hard and deep and fa-- ah!" you shriek as sevika starts fucking you. "oh fuck!" you screech. "fuck! just like that!" sevika presses down against your head and leg harder, pinning you to the desk as she picks up her pace.

she's growling behind you, but it's barely audible over your wailing and the smacking sounds of her hips meeting your ass, the squelching sounds that start back up between the two of you again.

"fuck." she whispers. you giggle when you hear it.

"feel good baby?" you taunt. sevika grunts. "god you're so deep, 'm not gonna be able to walk tomorrow." you gasp out. sevika leans down to begin biting at your back and shoulders, her thrusts getting sloppier the more you talk. you smile. "gonna cum inside this pussy, baby?" you ask her as sweetly as you can while swallowing back moans and whimpers.

sevika's hips stutter and she bites your shoulder, groaning against you. "gonna get you fuckin' pregnant." she whispers. you jolt against her at the words and she chuckles. "you gotta cum for me first, though." she whispers.

"'s gonna be messy." you choke. sevika coos down at you and you bite your lip.

"that's okay baby, you can be messy. i put all the important shit away. was just teasing you earlier."

"you're so mean." you whine. sevika grins, then pinches your clit.

"yeah, but it gets you so wet." she grunts. you gasp beneath her and she chuckles. "gonna cum?" she asks. you squeak, your thighs starting to shake. "i can tell. can feel this pussy clenching around me. fuck, you're so perfect baby." you gasp, your orgasm creeping up on you.

"sev--" you scramble and claw at the papers littering the desk, looking for something to hold onto as you start to fall apart. sevika presses kisses to your shoulder, cheek and back as she fucks you impossibly faster. "sevika i'm--!" you squeak out. sevika chuckles behind you.

"do it baby." she grunts.

with one final squeak you cum, soaking your thighs. "fuuuuck." sevika curses as she continues to fucking you until you're twitching.

she moves her hand away from your clit when you start to whine, sinking it into your hip as she starts drilling into your cunt with reckless abandon, chasing her own release.

you struggle to catch your breath, still so sensitive from your own orgasm that you cant do much but lay limp on the desk. "y-you gonna..." you gasp, "gonna cum sev?" you whimper. she grunts. "gonna cum inside me?" you ask. she responds with a grunt and a hand smacking your ass.

"f-f-f--" she says, clawing your ass.

"yeah, yeah, yeah, sev, cum inside me, please, want you to feel good baby."

"fuck!" she shouts as she cums, burying her cock deep inside you and grinding against your ass as she shakes. "shit, baby, fuckin' take it, just like that." she grunts. you hum happily beneath her as she twitches against you.

its quiet for a second as she catches her breath behind you, but then she flops forward, pinning you to the desk with her full body weight.

you giggle and moan as she nuzzles into your neck, breathing you in as she comes down from her orgasm. "fuck baby." she grumbles on top of you. you giggle.

"mmm." you hum beneath her. "i want a bath." you whisper. sevika grunts on top of you. you let her rest for a minute before speaking again.

"and a snack." you say. she huffs against you.

"sevika." you say after a minute. she hums. "if you run us a bath, i'll still give you that back massage." you offer. she lifts her head up in consideration. you chuckle.

"in the bath or in bed?"

"whichever you want."

"you making the snack?"

"if you help me walk to the kitchen and back."

it's silent as she considers your terms, then finally, she groans as she lifts off of you to stand. with a gentle pat to your ass, sevika pulls the strap out. you flinch, and she kisses your back in apology.

you stay melted to the desk as sevika undresses behind you, only moving once she finally reaches down to help you up.

she gathers you in her arms, pressing kisses to your face and head. you giggle against her.

"hi." she says with a sweet smile. you grin, leaning in to brush your lips against her.

"hey, sexy."

"thanks for the motivation." she whispers against your lips. you giggle.

"anytime, baby." you promise.

she seals your promise with a kiss.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

(cw rape mention)

do you also wish there was a way to distinguish "whumpy rape" and "smutty rape" (for the lack of better terms)?

personally, when i'm looking for rape/non-con fics on ao3, i want the victim to be broken down, crying and feeling irreparably damaged, i'm not interested in fics where the victim starts enjoying it after a few paragraphs and becomes an enthusiastic participant.

personally, I think — if the authors tagged their works properly — the "victim starts enjoying it after a few paragraphs and becomes an enthusiastic participant" would have made the work fall under the "dubious consent" category, and not exactly "non-con".

although I do understand that this is a sensitive subject, and some authors see the "dubious consent" tag as "non-con", because — while this is fiction we're talking about and I'm fully aware of that — anything that isn't "completely consensual" is "non-con", and some authors may fear that they might trigger their audience by not tagging the works as non-con (because without the non-con tag, readers could find it triggering when they read it and saw what happened as rape, even if the victim later enjoyed it), thus the reason why the two tags can overlap, depending on authors' opinions.

but yeah, some authors prefer not to tag dubious consent as non-con, because they believe it defeats the purpose of "dubious consent" and "non-con" being two completely different tags. with one containing, self explanatory, somewhat consent, and the other is outright rape.

also what reads like dubious consent to some may be outright non-con to others.

there isn't really any actual rule and it all just... depends on what the authors think is best for their works.

unfortunately, I don't think there is a fully effective way to distinguish the two as of now, without reading the works and finding out if it's "whumpy for trauma and pain" or "smutty for the sake of being horny". but what I personally do when I want to read "whumpy rape for trauma and pain" that isn't "smutty one where the victim later enjoys it" is that I usually search for additional tags such as "dead dove do not eat", "angst", "whump", "dark theme", "hurt/comfort" (if I want the recovery part), "hurt no comfort" (if I don't want the recovery part), etc.

from my experience with browsing through tags, works that fall under dubious consent category (ones where victim later enjoys it) usually have tags like "porn with plot", "porn without plot" (not saying whumpy non-con fics for trauma and pain can't have "porn with plot" or "porn without plot" tag, because I've also read so many exceptionally/remarkably/very, very well written whumpy non-con fics that do have either of these tags, but yeah, around 6 out of 10, the "porn with plot" and "porn without plot" tags apply more to dubious consent than they do outright non-con), "orgasm denial", “orgasm delay", and — most importantly — "dubious consent".

again, there is no actual rule or a perfectly effective way to separate "whumpy non-con fics meant for trauma and pain" from "smutty non-con fics meant to get you horny" just by looking at tags or summary alone. I think, if you don't want to 'read and find out', it all depends on the vibes. but even then, yeah... the two do overlap a lot.

*also not saying there's anything wrong with "smutty non-con fics meant to get you horny" by the way. this is all about each individual's personal preference. read what you like. write what you like. it's all fiction. it's all good.

[funeralprocession]

#1, I wrote a thing... This is weird, self-posting without sticking a Nagito sprite on it but I'll endure, probably.

I'm not sure how often I'll write, probably not very? And this is actually the second Oumaeda thing I wrote (the first one isn't getting posted, it's not terrible (like, in terms of the subject matter, it wasn't scary or anything) but it was exceptionally low-effort as well as being overtly smutty).

For the record, everybody in dangan is an adult to me. Just putting that out there, short, annoying adults are still adults, even if you find them annoying (and short) XD!!

The first story is referenced in this one a few times, but the important things to know about it are: - Kichi was deliberately staying close to Nagito, testing him to see if he was going to get bothered enough to leave - He was doing everything in his power to force him away if he was going to go - It didn't work XD!! Nagito is slightly out of character (here and in the first one); we (Skyler and I) figure Nagito would be incredibly unfamiliar with someone showing him that type of attention... Not just hanging around him a lot, but when Kichi started being aggressively flirtatious, that was new and he didn't know what was happening, essentially. He's not normally this nervous, but he didn't have anyone showing him that type of attention prior.

Anyway, here's the thing, if you're reading this right now it means I actually posted it XD!!! (I'll also be colour-coding their speech, since I didn't always denote which the speaker was, hopefully that won't be too distracting or whatever.)

- - -

"Ask me something," Kichi commanded; his tone was friendly but it wasn't a request. "Aww, I couldn't do that," Nagito complained and averted his eyes, "Scum like me has no right to ask anything of you." "I'll answer whatever you wanna know," Kichi responded playfully, knowing his response might be a lie but electing to leave that part off.

Nagito was equal parts frustrating and intriguing - Kichi couldn't settle on either thing for certain. It was a good thing, of course - Kichi wouldn't get bored with him. He felt like he'd picked an interesting one, and had nothing to regret.

"I do have something," Nagito finally spoke up, his voice calm and cool as usual. "Let's have it." "It's really none of my business…"

Kichi groaned and slumped his shoulders - was Nagito really going to ask about his organization? He was hoping he would ask something more fun than that. He didn't blame him for being curious, of course… After he'd gone digging and found absolutely nothing, that had to be--

"Have you ever kissed anybody before?" Kichi yelped in immediate surprise, "Have I ever what?" "C'mon," Nagito smiled serenely, "I know you'll never tell me anything about your organization. I wouldn't expect you to." "When I told you to ask me something, I was--" Kichi huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and feigning indignance, "We're… Uh…"

He forgot the word. He was so flustered by being asked that question, he forgot the word he wanted. The longer he fixated on it, the more nervous he looked-- This was bad.

"Is that a 'no'?" Nagito was still smiling casually, "Too busy with your leadership responsibilities, huh?" "Y-yeah, busy," Kichi quickly agreed, "I… I'm surprised you would even ask that, it's-- It's not like I have time for that kind of… Whatever! Never wanted to, never needed to! If I wanted to, I definitely could have, though--" "Of course," Nagito nodded slightly.

That tone of voice - Kichi heard it every day for the last several weeks… Or months? He wasn't sure how long it'd been, but he'd heard Nagito speak often and in that very specific way… The reason he couldn't tell whether Nagito was frustrating or intriguing was, in part, because of that voice. The way he expressed himself… The things he said, the way he insulted himself but it felt like his actual target was--

It was intriguing. Kichi decided, it was intriguing. Nagito was an incredibly fascinating individual.

Things had been a little… Not tense, but 'unusual' between them, after the incident, when Kichi was testing Nagito to see if he would finally be pushed away… But it wasn't because Nagito had been avoiding him. Was Kichi feeling… Guilty?

"Hey," Nagito spoke up after a rather lengthy silence, "Are you ok?" "I'm fine!" Kichi responded too quickly, feeling even more embarrassed in an instant.

"Y'know…" Nagito began after another slightly awkward pause, "I'm not judging you, I know you're busy with your organization and all… You're not a loser like me… I haven't kissed anybody before, but that's just what you would expect out of someone like me, isn't it?" "I'm sure you were too busy too," Kichi waved a dismissive hand, "Not everybody has time for… Bullshit, or whatever."

Kichi hated everything he was saying, but he was too flustered to stop and express himself properly. Had he completely lost the upperhand? Everything he was saying and feeling was so awkward and annoying-- Did Nagito know what he was doing? Was it an accident?

"I appreciate the benefit of doubt, but I really wasn't busy at all," Nagito confessed, "I guess I wasn't really trying, but there wouldn't have been any point-- not much, anyway."

Kichi started thinking about that day again… He couldn't stop - something about the discomfort and the conversation was making him think about that time… Feeling Nagito rubbing him… First with his hand, then…

Kichi squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the thoughts out of his mind. "Sorry," Nagito gently apologized; Kichi glanced at him and found he was still smiling faintly. "Sorry for wh--" "I'm sorry for putting that thought in your head," Nagito clarified, "The thought of… Anybody… With me, I'm sure that was disturbing. Sorry you had to see that." "It is not disturbing!" Kichi asserted too quickly once again, "I mean-- It's fine, I wasn't even thinking about that." "You looked troubled. I assumed that was why."

Did… Nagito not remember what happened? Had he really forgotten? Kichi didn't want to ask in case it had completely slipped his mind…

"Guess I've been thinking about things recently," Nagito began, "Stuff I didn't really bother with before, mostly." "Huh? What kinda things?" Kichi straightened his posture; the topic change could prove useful. If Nagito had something on his mind, the distraction might pull Kichi out of the gutter he was suddenly struggling to drag himself out of--

"I have no right to ask, of course--" "Just say it, Nagito!" Kichi complained, "We're friends, right?" "We are?" Kichi furrowed his brow and glanced over, unsure of what that was supposed to mean… Was Nagito saying he didn't think of Kichi as being his friend--

His expression was… Normal. He didn't look upset or bothered in any way. What did that mean?

"Yes," Kichi responded resolutely, forcefully, leaving no alternative, "We're friends." "Ah."

That was how Kichi conducted himself with everyone else: nothing was up for debate. He just took what he wanted. He didn't wait for permission, he didn't ask politely, he took control, he steered, even if they fought back… So why was it so difficult now? What was wrong with Nagito? What about him made Kichi so… Flustered? And why was Kichi enjoying it?

"I like you too," Nagito informed him, "I said that before, but I figured how I felt wouldn't mean anything--" "You remember!" Kichi blurted, "W-what happened, I mean? You remember?" "Of course," Nagito chuckled, "Did you think I forgot?" "I mean, kinda," Kichi slumped his shoulders again, "Since you… I dunno, didn't… Whatever."

He was embarrassing himself again; he couldn't stop.

"That's why I'm here, isn't it? Because you said I'm yours now, you weren't going to let me go?" "Y-yeah," Kichi confirmed, "That was a loyalty test." "Hmm," Nagito glanced at Kichi from the side of his eye, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned in a faint, wry smile.

"Have you done that with many of your associates?" Nagito asked after an uncomfortable silence. "Th-they received specialized-- Ok, fine! No! What do you want me to say?" Nagito chuckled softly and shrugged, "Nothing in particular, we're just having a conversation."

Kichi's face was burning with embarrassment. He couldn't remember anybody ever getting the upperhand over him at any point - if they ever had it, they didn't keep it very long. He had a way to weaseling out of situations, but Nagito had a way of keeping him completely off-balance. He couldn't tell if Nagito was even aware of it-- He must have been. There was no alternative. There was no way it was an accident. Nagito was clever, and constantly besmirching himself was just another tactic - Kichi was sure of it.

"Have you ever heard of the Pocky game?" Nagito asked casually. "Of course!" Kichi sat up straight and pushed his shoulders back, determined to regain his control over everything - himself, the conversation, Nagito, everything. He was fairly certain the feeling he had - that unusual enjoyment, was just because the experience was a new one. No one had ever backed him into a corner before and kept him there. It wasn't boring. (Was that even what Nagito was trying to do? Did he have an angle? Was Kichi getting in his own way?)

"I kinda wanted to do it," Nagito mumbled with a slightly embarrassed shrug, "N-not right now, I mean… Just in general, at some point, but--" "What's wrong?" Kichi grinned and nudged Nagito with his shoulder playfully, "Don't you like me? Am I not good enough~?"

Kichi felt like he was trying too hard but he refused to back down.

"I couldn't," Nagito chuckled, "Someone like me?" "You're not so bad, Nagito," Kichi felt his nervousness dissipating - it really was him getting in his own way. Nagito wasn't doing anything, he was sure of it now, he'd just been imagining--

"Are you sure you want to?" Nagito asked in a somewhat ominous tone, "You seemed kinda distressed before… Are you sure it's ok?" "Oh, that," Kichi waved his hand and grinned, "That was something else, I was thinking about-- Never mind, it's not important." "Ah, I see," Nagito smiled faintly once again, "Good, I was starting to think I was bothering you, maybe you were reconsidering." "Reconsidering?" "What you said before, about how I'm yours now," Nagito reminded him casually, "I was thinking you had regrets, even though I would completely understand if you did." "Nah, you're mine," Kichi nonchalantly asserted, "You just kinda threw me off before, but I'm fine." "You really thought I was going to try to ask about your organization again, huh?" "Nah," Kichi grinned, "You're not boring. You know better." Nagito smiled once again, the silence setting Kichi on edge immediately.

Something about silence from Nagito, even when he was smiling, was unnerving. Kichi assumed it was because he was difficult to read and figure out… Which wasn't entirely bad, just nerve-racking.

"What have you done? With another person, I mean," Nagito requested softly after a momentary pause.

Kichi couldn't remember if he'd directly admitted to never having kissed anyone before - why would he do that? Did he lie or not? He couldn't remember!

"Besides what we did with each other, I mean," Nagito clarified after another brief span of quiet, "Sorry, excluding that." "You go first," Kichi grinned mischievously, suddenly realizing he couldn't lie his way out of the situation at hand. "Ah, that was my first time," Nagito replied modestly, "Not a surprise, I'm sure… I… Doubt it was even any good, I didn't know what I was doing…"

Thinking about that event again--

"Ha," Kichi chuckled breathily, then barely managed to regain composure, "Y-you weren't bad." "Do you have any Pocky around here? I noticed… Sorry for paying attention but I noticed you like sweets." "You're allowed to notice things, Nagito. In fact, that's a good quality to have in a servant." "Servant?" "Well, yeah," Kichi adjusted his tone, pretending to get impatient, as if the matter was an obvious one, "You're my servant now, what did you think I meant when I said you belonged to me?" "Oh, aha," Nagito chuckled softly, "That makes sense." "I could send you to go get some for us-- some Pocky, I mean," Kichi rambled, attempting to maintain the illusion that he had secured control, "But there's no rush. We can do that any time." "That's true," Nagito nodded slightly in agreement.

He was struggling. He didn't want to let Nagito out of his sight. He didn't want to have to wait for several frustrating minutes - or longer, if Nagito got held up somewhere, if someone pulled him aside and started talking to him… He liked the idea of having the game as a cover, but he couldn't possibly wait that long. He wished he'd had some on-hand but it was obviously too late, it would do no good to stew about it.

"I just decided, we don't need it," Kichi stated firmly, "U-unless you would rather have it…" "Huh?" Nagito blinked, "You actually want my input?" "Why wouldn't I?" "Because I'm just a servant," Nagito stated simply, as if the answer was obvious, "Surely you wouldn't require feedback from me." "Will you stop that," Kichi huffed, "Why are you this way? Who hurt you, Nagito?"

Nagito was silent for a moment, which was strangely disturbing.

"Are you actually asking?" "Of course," Kichi responded quickly, "Did something happen to you?" "People just don't really care how I feel about things," Nagito shrugged passively, "It's not important." "It's important to me, I care about how you feel!" Kichi insisted, "Y'know, I might be annoying and pushy but I'm not mean - ok, I am but I'm not mean all the time." "You're not," Nagito confirmed, "You're not any of those things." "Call me 'master'," Kichi turned his nose up and smirked, suddenly deciding his mission was to push Nagito out of his self-hating comfort zone, beginning with forcing him to address Kichi using an embarrassingly respectful title. Surely he would fight back - maybe.

"Ok, master," Nagito nodded without any hesitation; Kichi felt like someone punched him in the stomach as soon as he heard those words. "Hey!" Kichi objected without delay, "You're supposed to-- I mean--!" "What's the problem, master?" Nagito asked serenely, "I'm your servant, and that sounded like an order." "You're too agreeable," Kichi complained, "You were supposed to get mad, you were supposed to be offended!" Nagito shrugged passively once again, completely unphased by the command he'd been given.

So maybe the self-deprecating 'facade' wasn't a facade at all. Perhaps Nagito really was like that? And the way he spoke was genuinely how he felt?

"Are you messin' with me?" Kichi demanded, "You have to tell me if this is a joke!" "Sorry, I'm not the best at jokes. My reputation precedes me in a lot of ways, but that isn't one of the things I'm known for."

It was uncharted territory - most of the time, people fought back against Kichi and his attempts to control situations and conversations. He actually preferred it, since it was a challenge to eventually get them to fall in line via any means necessary. Not violence, of course, but trickery and lies - the fun ways. He thought it was funny when people would lash out at him using violence; they were so bothered by his behaviour, they resorted to their baser instincts. It was funny, but also boring - it was predictable and they were being so normal.

"I want you to…" Kichi began his next command, feeling like he could have more fun with Nagito than expected. Nagito waited for Kichi to locate his words, showing absolutely no signs of distress, just like he hadn't before.

When Kichi was following him closely, tugging him around by his elbow, even shoving his hands into Nagito's pockets just to see how far he could be pushed before he began to push back… Nagito was completely unphased by it all. He was either incredibly patient? More-so than anyone Kichi had ever met? Or he might have been enjoying someone wanting to be around him.

"I want you to teach me how to kiss," Kichi grinned triumphantly, "With tongue, that's an order." "Wh-what?" Nagito stammered, "I told you, I don't know how--!" "Too bad, that was an order!" Kichi grinned even more, "Also, don't forget to call me 'master'!" "This is an impossible request, master, I'm sorry--" "It's not impossible, you're just being a quitter!" Kichi complained, "I gave you a task, now do it, Nagito!" "Ha," Nagito chuckled and brushed his hair away from his eyes, only for it to fall right back into place.

'Pleasepleasepleaseplease,' Kichi was silently pleading, begging Nagito would actually attempt to follow orders. He discovered he didn't want to issue commands and take charge - not all the time, anyway. How could he get Nagito to give him what he wanted without commanding him?

"C'mon, Nagito," Kichi whined, "I need you." "Huh?" "Yeah, I was too busy with my organization before, not like I can just… Y'know?" "Hmm," Nagito's gaze softened; it wasn't that he had been upset, but slightly concerned with the task he'd been assigned. "You asking me if I ever… It made me realize that I kinda missed out? And I don't like that," Kichi explained, "I mean, I don't like that I missed out, you asking me things is fine. Sorta, depending on what you're asking."

"Am I gonna get in trouble if I teach you poorly?" Nagito asked after a momentary silence, "I mean, I would deserve it but I did warn you, I don't know how--" "Nah, you won't get in trouble," Kichi asserted firmly and waved a dismissive hand.

Something was wrong… Even if Nagito did what he was commanded to do--

"I want you to teach me as if you already know what you're doing," Kichi clarified. "That's impossible!" "'That's impossible, ~master~'," Kichi corrected mischievously, "And it's not! You're just being obstinate!" "You're being obstinate!" Nagito argued before shrinking back, "Ah! S-sorry!" "No, do that!" Kichi asserted sternly, "Tell me I'm being annoying, I am being annoying! I'm getting on your nerves! Tell me off!" "I don't know what you want!" Nagito fretted, "This doesn't make any sense, master." "Sure it does, you're just afraid of making a mistake, and you're not making one," Kichi assured him, feeling an odd sense of deja-vu from the time before, "I'm not setting you up, you won't get in trouble."

There was something absurd about everything that was going on. Kichi still wasn't entirely convinced Nagito's self-loathing wasn't an act and yet there he was, trying to force him to stop. Was it possible? Was this going to be the thing that forced Nagito away? The realization hit Kichi like an ice cold tidal wave. 'Oh no.'

Before he could fully regain control of his senses, he was suddenly laying on his back with a pair of greyish eyes staring down at him behind a lock of fluffy white hair. "N-Nagito?" Kichi asked timidly. "Is there a problem, master? Didn't you tell me you wanted me to teach you how to kiss?" "Y-yes!" Kichi agreed in an instant, suddenly self-conscious about how over-eager he sounded.

"Can I sit up?" Kichi whined, attempting to disguise his eagerness from a moment before, "This is weird. Why are you on top of me?" "I want your full attention," Nagito cooed, "And this way, I have it. Master." "Ha," Kichi panted, finding he was already getting excited despite how nothing happened yet.

"I can't… N-Nagito," Kichi attempted to close his knees but Nagito was kneeling between them, "H-hey." "What's wrong, master?" Nagito asked, his tone somewhat gleeful, "Did you need something before we start?"

Kichi wasn't sure if Nagito was just that good at feigning confidence, or if this was proof that his normal demeanor was false. It didn't matter, it didn't change what was happening.

"Can… Can you please move?" Kichi asked meekly, "I can't… Uh…" "Sorry, I can't," Nagito responded calmly, leaning in a little closer and gently pinching Kichi's chin between his thumb and forefinger, "It's part of the lesson. I don't want you closing your legs." "Ha, fuck," Kichi panted before regaining control over himself and whining, "Th-that wasn't part of it!" "Would you like to call it off? Master?"

Was that what was going on? Nagito was attempting to force Kichi's hand, make him rescind the order so he wouldn't be forced to fulfill the obligation?"

"No!" Kichi asserted, "Teach me how to kiss! Let's see how good you are, I don't even need to close my legs, I'm not uncomfortable at all!" Nagito chuckled softly, "I don't believe you, sorry."

It was always fun when people obeyed Kichi's commands - but it was also fun when they reacted with force and hostility, refusing to follow his orders. This was… Even more fun than both of those things combined.

"Let's go, I'm waiting~" Kichi grinned, clasping his hands over his abdomen, doing his best to appear casual while he was stuck laying on his back. Nagito caressed Kichi's cheek very softly with his fingertips; Kichi's grin disappeared. Nagito was studying his lips for a moment before glancing back up, looking Kichi in the eye. "Stick your tongue out," Nagito ordered very softly. "Huh?" Without responding aloud, Nagito leaned in and gently licked Kichi's bottom lip, slipping his tongue inside without delay; Kichi eagerly cooperated and carefully adjusted his posture as Nagito laid down on top of him.

Kichi realized he'd never wanted to before? He didn't know why… But he never wanted to, with anyone. He wasn't sure if he regretted that - never even considering it at any point, or if that was speaking for itself: no one was ever interesting enough to him, apparently--

"Ha," Kichi panted, grasping onto Nagito's arms in an involuntary bid to keep him from pulling away. "This lesson's a pretty bad one, huh?" Nagito smirked faintly, his breath tickling Kichi's neck, "Not sure what I'm doing here." "Y-yeah," Kichi agreed, unsure what he was agreeing with, just that he didn't want to argue about it, wanting Nagito to continue as quickly as possible.

It was one of the few times he had nothing to say - or rather, didn't want to have a discussion.

"Why are you breathing so hard, master?" Nagito teased quietly, "Are you ok? Do you need something?" "I'm fine!" Kichi asserted, flustered, "Whatever!" "I dunno," Nagito continued, supporting himself by leaning on his left elbow, delicately caressing Kichi's cheek with his right thumb again, "You were making some noises…" "I said I'm fine!" Kichi insisted, unable to explain something he couldn't even remember doing. "You sure?" "Yes!" "Well, if you say so… Just kinda sounded to me like… Maybe I just got your dirty-voice out of you, but we weren't even doing anything yet… I heard it before, you know."

Kichi was blushing hard - he couldn't lie about that, either. He'd completely lost control of himself before; Nagito had him at a couple of distinct disadvantages.

"I'm sure I'm making a mistake," Nagito cooed softly, "Imagine… Someone like me? Getting that type of reaction out of you when I've barely even done anything at all~? That would be so embarrassing for you, huh?"

Before Kichi could respond in any way, Nagito leaned back in, a little more forceful that time, initiating a new kiss that Kichi eagerly participated in. He attempted to covertly slip his hand down between his legs and rub himself as he was getting uncomfortably hard, but Nagito pulled his hand away and pinned it onto the bed by his wrist. "Nope," Nagito smirked, "Sorry, master." "Hey!" Kichi huffed, "That wasn't part of it! You were supposed to teach me to kiss, there was never anything about I'm not allowed to jerk off!" "It was implied," Nagito responded casually, his voice as calm as ever, "I'm not done with you yet, so you're not allowed." Kichi whimpered pathetically and attempted to sit up enough to initiate a kiss on his own; Nagito obliged, laying him back down immediately without separating from his captive.

- - -

That's it, sorry about the abrupt ending but that was all I wrote on that one, it was just going to get worse anyway XD!!

[beatle-george-smut]

They are both exceptionally smutty in this picture. ☮️☮️☮️

[the-astral-sea]

Bite marks and bruises (Raphael x fem!Durge)

I have this vision, this fantasy, that the only one who could keep Raphael on his toes and charm him is a pureblood Bhaalspawn. Their similar, chaotic and absolutely twisted personalities would clash yet work incredibly well together.

OC named Dolly, a pureblood Bhaalspawn, the last of her name. She is a high elf sorceress but it doesn’t come up much if at all. Imagine her how you want!

18+ TW: kidnapping? slight torture, death, threats, intimidation, adult content. Really cute vibes between Raphael and Dolly though. Sexual tension. Smutty. I absolutely love how this story ended up.

“Againagainagainagain!” Dolly cried out manically, garrotting a disheveled man and forcing him to walk slowly across a floor of conjured spikes, relishing in his screams and pleads for mercy.

She had caught him peeping through the doors of a brothel, muttering to himself about how the girls were not worthy of his coin, but worthy of his attention. Had she been a normal citizen, she would have simply reported him to the Lady of the house and had him kicked out of the establishment, but Dolly was far from a normal citizen. Bhaal’s blood coursed through her veins and urged her to enact justice in a far more brutal fashion - especially to those she deemed unfit for society. It was no more than a normal night for her, seducing men like this, leading them to her chambers and carrying out her twisted will in a gory and gruesome manner. His cries echoed throughout her chamber; it was music to her ears. “You! You were a very naughty boy. Now crawl.” She demanded gleefully, tightening his leash to force him on all fours as the spikes rendered his kneecaps useless, causing him to then fall flat on the ground, pierced by a hundred hungry pikes. As he lay there, bleeding out, Dolly felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her, a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth as she admired her work with a contented sigh. Bhaal would be exceptionally proud of her artistry today. The way she made this pervert suffer was beauty in its purest form.

Feeling warm and achieved, she gracefully moved to her desk where an unopened bottle of mead sat awaiting her touch. An expensive bottle of exceptional quality and age, stolen from the room of one of her previous victims as a kind of reward for herself. She opened it in a state of reverie, leaning back on her quilted chair as she poured the sweet, indulgent liquid into a silver chalice. Notes of honey and thyme tickled her senses as she inhaled the nectar, “mmmm, why thank you whats-his-name” she mumbled to herself as she took a sip of the drink with her eyes closed peacefully. The taste was as delicious as the smell, coating her tongue in a myriad of rich flavours that could only be compared to heaven in a bottle.

As she opened her eyes to read the label on the bottle, she realised that she was no longer in the familiar comfort of her room. The usual pleasant smell of blood and incense was replaced by the aroma of brimstone, old parchment and cherries. Her desk had been replaced by a large imposing dinner table, littered with a multitude of fruits and desserts. Although unfamiliar to her, she quickly deducted that this must be somewhere in the Hells. Where else could be so inviting, yet so unsettling? And smell so weird? “You could have at least brought my mead here” she shouted, her unshakeable voice bouncing off the high ceilings. Dolly was genuinely annoyed that whoever transported her here hadn’t given her that luxury after all the hard work she’d done today. In a huff, she stood up, kicking the chair back as she began to examine what other alcohol she could snag as she waited for her captor to appear, no doubt in her mind that they would make a massive entrance in attempt to intimidate her. Unfortunate for them, Dolly was not easily influenced, and took it upon herself to look over the drinks curiously, sitting right on the middle of the table as she selected a vintage red wine, tugging at the cork with her teeth.

It was really wedged in there and her frustration grew at the situation she found herself in. “Come onnn” she pleaded to the bottle as if it could hear, pulling at the cork again with her teeth. Just as she lost patience and was about to smash the bottle on the ground, the large ornate doors swung open, revealing a very angry looking Devil. His skin was red like blood, her favourite colour. His wings, scaled and bat-like, spanned the entirety of the door frame. His horns, curled and shiny, made his imposing form reach around 7 foot. Dolly felt her cheeks flush, not out of fear, but out of desire. Although she had never met Raphael in the flesh, she immediately recognised his presence from tales she had heard in dodgy taverns and books she had read.

“What’s this? A mouse in my hou-” he began with a booming voice of authority but was rudely cut off by Doll, “yeah yeah. Mice, cats, fucking doves or whatever. Can you open this?�� She enquired, holding out the bottle she had selected from his table. He momentarily appeared taken aback, staring curiously at this elf, this killer, sat crossed legged in the middle of his table trying to tug open his finest cabernet. A mischievous look crossed his face as he attempted to continue, aware that his ignorance of her request would only piss her off more. “In my house. Where the hopeless reside, you will abide by my rules. Behave. Are you not wondering why I have brought you here?” His voice was low and charming, inquisitive and intrigued. “Judging by the set up, it looks like a dinner date. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting, you know” Dolly winked, completely unphased by his theatrics as she motioned to the bottle once again. The devils jaw tensed at her complete lack of regard for his dominance. Usually, mortals would be trembling in fear, sat shaking in their chair as they revered him with terrified eyes. But not Dolly. No, she was like naughty pet climbing on the furniture with no regard for anyone but herself.

It was clear that Raphael was seething yet he remained visibly composed. Making it too obvious that she had already gotten under his skin would give her pleasure, and he did not want to give her the satisfaction. With elegance, he sauntered over to where she sat and uncorked the bottle with ease, pouring them both a large glass, a twinkle in his eye as he spoke calmly and unaffected by his bubbling anger. “You know, you have cost me greatly with your little… display of the macabre… earlier this evening” he hummed, “the man you were so quick and eager to kill was about to sign a contract with me, he was of great influence and would’ve been a valuable asset to my will” his hand tightened around his drink as he spoke, a subtle sign hinting at just how unhappy he was in this moment. Dolly performed a sympathetic look, pouting solemnly at the devil between sips of wine with a hand pressed to her heart.

“Maybe you should make your future partners wear a big glowing sign that reads ‘do not touch, property of hell’ or a ridiculous hat that’s reminiscent of your horns?” She suggested, tilting her head in feign seriousness.

Unable to hold his rage inside for a moment longer, Raphael threw his cup down and grabbed Dolly by the throat, his long fingers wrapping around the circumference with ease and his clawed fingers digging into her flesh. He expected her to drop her charade, convinced that truly she could not be this unhinged. Surely it was just an act. He wanted to see her apologetic, scared and trembling, but instead she let out a soft moan. This reaction took him by surprise and he loosened his grip, shoving her aside before letting go completely. A giggle escaped her mouth, which then turned into uncontrollable laughter. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist” she managed to choke out between fits of laughter whilst nonchalantly kicking her legs as they now dangled off the side of the table, the plates that were once there now sprawled out on the floor. Once she had settled down, her tone shifted to one of seriousness for the first time since their conversation started, “Honestly, I’m sorry for ruining your chances of making a deal with that man. I’m a bhaalspawn babe, killing people is just what I do.”

Raphael’s demeanour changed at the words ‘bhaalspawn’. Suddenly it made sense as to why she was so fearless, so carefree and wild. This wasn’t just any killer, this was the daughter of Bhaal himself. Renown for killing her siblings to gain favour, known across all realms for her talent and terror. ‘Mistress of the night’ some called her: she moved in shadows, never caught, rarely seen. There was probably just as many scary stories told about her as there was him. His lips curved into a devilish grin at the revelation. It was reassuring to know that he hadn’t lost his edge, she was simply just unbothered by it. As was her nature.

“Ah, the infamous Dolly? Had I known it was you, I might not have dragged you here after all” he chuckled. His large frame turned to face her and he offered out a hand, helping her down from the table to lead into a different area of the huge house. The walls were a deep red, spanning high to meet the ornate golden ceiling. Windows larger than the two of them combined, revealing the stretching planes of the Hells beyond. Rosewood floors and intricate rugs lay atop them. Beautiful opulent chests, large paintings, and chaise lounges decorated the area. Dolly looked around in awe, casually holding onto the Devil’s forearm like it was the most normal thing in the world. He guided her to a balcony where two velvet chairs and a small round table stood between them, gesturing for her to take a seat so they could continue their conversation in a more intimate atmosphere.

“Now, I don’t usually let people off easily when they so savagely brutalise my potential clients” he began, voice laced with disapproval, “but for you” he spoke again, a slightly softer tone than before that made Dolly’s eyes light up, “I will make an exception”.

“So, no riddles about mice, cats and doves?” She smiled, pushing the boundaries a little bit. After all, who would she be if she didn’t continue to annoy him ever so slightly?

“Where did you get doves from? I don’t believe I have ever mentioned doves” he stated with an uncharacteristic smile. It wasn’t a manipulative smile, or one that held any mischief or malice, he just found her strangely intriguing and slightly odd. Everything she’d said since entering his house of hope had kept him on his toes and yet… for some reason he found it endearing. It was unfamiliar to him but not unwelcome - to find such interest in someone other than himself.

“Oh… anyways, I have a feeling you aren’t just letting me off the hook? That’s not what you do” her questioning sent his mind into a spiral. He genuinely was planning on dropping the whole thing, but this presented an opportunity for more and he couldn’t turn that down. “Right you are” he leaned back in his chair, pouring them both another drink and turning his head to smile at Dolly. “It’s not a deal. There will be no contract. Just an offer, a business proposal, if anything.” The words were spoken with an undercurrent of imperilment and Dolly narrowed her eyes as she awaited his next words. “I’ve heard of your exploits for many moons, but to see the way you performed today was a treat. I caught the tail end of the whole ordeal before transporting you here. It should’ve been obvious then that you were Bhaals revered baby. I’m embarrassed that I didn’t catch on sooner.” The admission dripped off his tongue like honey, “How would you feel about joining me? I make contracts; you have fun with those who don’t comply?” His offer sparked a flame within Dolly. With Raphael at her side, the whole world could be her playground, she could go anywhere, do anything. “I must admit the offer is tempting. So what’s the catch?” She enquired, sensing that there was more to this than he was letting on. He didn’t need the help, he had been killing and cutting deals for centuries. There was something deeper at work here. This was personal to him.

“What a clever little dove you are” he hummed, causing Dolly’s cheeks to shift to rosey hue at the new nickname. “I admit it. I have grown bored of working alone, living here with nobody to challenge me or stimulate my mind. It’s monotonous, and I am anything but” his words were laced with danger and lust, eyeing her like a five course meal, undressing her with his eyes. He held all the cards. Dolly knew this and she did not like it. She knew that his offer came with the expectation of agreement, it was closer to a demand than a real choice. There was no doubt that at this point, he wouldn’t let her leave until she gave in. How dare he turn her into a blushing mess, foaming at the mouth at the promise of murderous exploits beyond comprehension. Her silence was deafening as she stood up from where she sat, offhandedly strolling back inside the house of hope at a slow, suggestive pace. Within moments Raphael was on his feet trailing behind her expectantly. Although she had her back to him, she could sense his growing frustration at her lack of response, a teasing smile forming on her face with every ghostly step. She was toying with him just to see his reaction. If he couldn’t handle her misbehaviour now, how would he cope later down the line?

The pair walked silently through the halls for a few moments, her steps zig zagging just to see if he would mimic them, which he did. Raphael knew what she was doing, but he was enjoying the challenge her presence demanded. Dolly circled around to sit back down on the balcony outside, making sure to seat herself at the chair her red bodied acquaintance was on moments before. “What was that?” He sighed, taking the opposite seat.

“What was what?”

“The adventure you just took me on in my own home”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“You’re infuriating, little dove”

“Thankyou.”

The pair sat there with Raphael’s offer hanging heavy in the air. There was no longer the expectation for an immediate answer after Dolly’s playful reaction forced patience. More drinks began to flow and so did the conversation. In no time at all they were onto the next bottle, sharing stories of past revelry and horror, Dolly’s giggles awoke something in Raphael that he had never felt or experienced before, his deeply buried human side rearing it’s long neglected head at her enthusiasm. The more she spoke, the more the devil appreciated her deranged sense of humour, “There was this farming family, who lived just outside of Baldurs Gate, that had been knowingly selling diseased lamb meat to poor families and making them sick” she mused, drawing Raphael into the story, “so I get hired as a farm hand right? I polymorph his wife and children into sheep, mark them for culling, and I’ll never forget the look on his face as their mangled bodies fell out of the mincer. He only realised what had happened once he found a toe and a wedding ring! That was all that was left” she howled with laughter. Raphael chuckled to himself at the depravity of it all, fixated by how sick she was. By now he was utterly besotted with her, silently hoping that she would agree to his request willingly. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders so fluidly, how her eyes radiated warmth despite being the most cold blooded killer he’d ever met, the way her smile made dimples appear in her cheeks. She was an image of delight. Lost in thought staring at her, he was only brought back to reality when she spoke again. “As lovely as it is out here, I wish I could put my feet up”. As quick as the words left her mouth he snapped his fingers, an eternal debtor crawling on their hands and knees ready to be used as a footstool. “Aw, how sweet” Dolly smiled, taking the opportunity to use them accordingly with a contented exhale.

Hours passed in merry and flirty conversation, wine still being shared between them in a constant steady flow. Eventually, Raphael noticed the ‘footstool’ peeking up Dolly’s dress, “my my, you fool. Don’t you know what this Little Dove does to creatures like you?” He tutted, but Dolly cut him off before he could take the exchange further. “Hm I don’t mind, the poor thing can look and toss and turn all night thinking about it” she sighed dismissively, waving her free hand. Raphael, however, was not satisfied with this response, “No. Nobody in this house of hope should be seeing what’s underneath those pretty little garments of yours” he hissed, “except for me, of course”. This statement made Doll’s heart flutter in her chest, her desire for him deepening at the very suggestion. The so called ‘footstool’ let out a whimper as Raphael stole the luxury of his sight, blinding him for the rest of eternity in one swift motion. To Dolly, it was one of the most romantic acts she’d ever witnessed. “Who’s to say you’ll be seeing me out of my ‘pretty little garments’ hm?” She teased, blowing Raphael a kiss with a wink. “Will I not be?” He chuckled, anticipating a cocky response but being met with an unexpected sincerity as his little dove brought her glossy lips up to his ear, leaning across the table to give a clear shot of her cleavage that made him stir. “You will if you play your cards right” she purred, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple before retreating back to her normal sitting position. Momentarily, the devil was tongue tied. He’d never been lost for words before, for a second he thought he might be dying. For some reason, the only words he could muster were “do you like art?” He kicked himself at his sudden awkwardness, trying to regain composure as he continued “I saw you admiring my paintings earlier. If you like art, I have a whole gallery waiting to be explored. Some of the pieces are nearly as beautiful as you”. Good save. He could finally breathe again. He held out his arm, an invitation for Dolly to hold it like she had done before, an invitation she gladly accepted as they leisurely began to stroll to the gallery, passing a multitude of lost souls along the way. His arms were firm and hot to the touch, and she was close enough to smell the brimstone, musk and cherry scent on his infernal skin. The aroma of cherries overpowered her senses, she wondered if he tasted like them too. Not that she was going to bite him of course, though the thought did cross her mind, and she was curious to see if licking up his cock would be a fruity treat. She shook off the sin quickly, but not quick enough for it to pass by Raphael undetected. “Shouldn’t you be admiring the artwork, Little Dove?” He smirked. “I thought I was” she retorted innocently.

Wandering around the gallery was a spectacle of flashy paintings, iconic sculptures that had mysteriously ‘vanished’ decades ago, classic weapons used in historical battles. It was truly a sight to behold, a luxurious experience reserved only for those held in high regard by the charming devil. If this was his way of wooing Dolly, it was certainly working, especially when she saw an organised pile of bones labelled ‘Mistress of The Night’s first kill: the remains’, as she looked upon it she felt a sense of nostalgia and turned her head to look over at Raphael, a hint of bashfulness upon his sharp features as if he had forgotten it was there. “Didn’t realise you were a fan” she giggled, finishing off the last of her wine and stepping over to him with reverent ardour that made him visibly loosen. “I’d kiss you if I could reach” she quipped, their height difference making it impossible for their heads to align even when Dolly stood on her tippy toes. Without a word the towering devil in front of her got down on one knee in one graceful motion and pulled her into a deep, hungry kiss. Tongues fighting for dominance and the taste of alcohol strong on their lips. The flavour lingered long after they parted, sending waves of desire coursing through them both at a dangerous velocity. They stared into one another’s eyes for a moment longer than necessary, their need to explore each other unspoken yet painfully apparent. Dolly grabbed his head and dragged him down for another kiss, this one even hungrier and messier than before as she let out a soft moan against his lips, silently begging for him to take her there and then. He was no mind reader, but he knew exactly what she was thinking because he was thinking it too, his desire for her had long since reached its boiling point. The hours of shared laughter echoed in his head as he replayed every interaction again and again. If he didn’t act now he felt as if he would explode. In an elegant swoop, Raphael lifted Dolly up, her arms comfortably looping around his neck like they’d done this a million times before. He marched her over to the bedroom, ordering Haarlep to entertain himself elsewhere with a deep, commanding tone.

The succubus abided with a curious look in its eye. The master of the house didn’t entertain guests this way, he got Haarlep to entertain them instead. Raphael never slept with anyone except himself. But truth be told the devil had grown bored of it, he just hadn’t liked anyone else enough to change that. He therefore put in minimal effort, often leading to Haarlep calling him a bad lay when in reality he was just lazy. Sleeping with Haarlep was just self pleasure with extra steps, he thought. Tonight, it was time for someone new. Someone he hoped would join him time and time again. Someone of which he could never bore of.

“I will not lie to you. It’s been a while since I’ve touched the flesh of a real woman” he stated matter of factly, not as a display of shyness but as if to explain his slight uncoordination in regards to Doll’s lack of tail, wings and horns. She sat on the edge of the bed as Raphael unlaced her dress extremely carefully, his claws only catching her back when it was intentional. Every touch made her melt under the warmth of his skin, every slow movement of his hands undressing her felt like foreplay in itself. The fabric fell off her body delicately, revealing a figure made for the indulgence of Gods, or Devils in this case. She spun around to face him, his expression a picture of pure joy as he took in the view, pupils blown like a drug trip. His breathing hitched as she crawled her way up the bed, pushing him down backwards to sit straddling his big, muscular frame. Her hands shook with excitement as he began unbuttoning his shirt, then the rest of his clothes, removing the pieces one by one until he lay bare beneath her. Cock already solid. Begging to be used.

“I’ve never lay with a devil before, can I use your horns like handlebars while I ride you?” She asked expectantly, her request making Raphael’s eyes widen in anticipation. “You most certainly can and should”.

They went at it for hours, cumming over and over again in unison, their thirst for one anothers bodies seemingly unquenchable. That was, until Dolly physically couldn’t it handle anymore. She had taken him roughly and deeply, and felt hollowed out by the end of their final session. Her body now decorated in bite marks and bruises.

“Oh dear, what a mess we’ve made of you my Little Dove” his words were velvety and smooth, spoken between kisses trailing from her shoulder to temple. “I simply can’t let you sleep like this” his words brushed over her as he got up from the bed, carrying her exhausted frame over to a large bath in the centre of the room where he slowly lowered both of their beaten bodies. As the water touched her skin she felt the familiar tingle of healing magic, a much welcomed relief to her aching bones. “Fuck that feels good” she breathed, settling in to Raphaels arms with no difficulty at all. Much to her surprise, aftercare was second nature to him, proudly caressing her as he worked soap around her limbs, allowing her to completely relax as he took control of the moment. The entire night had been astonishing, a tale bards would sing about for eons to come if they heard of it. Two heartless beings, well and truly intoxicated by one another’s existence. Twin flames burning like hellfire.

Raphael noticed Dolly nearly drift off into a deep meditation at his touch, a fact that made his once stone heart pound like a war drum in his chest. “Come, let us rest” he lulled, guiding her out of the bath and drying her off, the temptation to once again have his way with her bubbling beneath the surface as he moved. He told himself that there would be other nights to enjoy such pleasures, but truthfully he was still unsure if she would agree to work with him. A possibility that stung deep inside his core, but one he would reluctantly accept if that was her wish. Dolly smiled up at him as he carried her to the bed again, placing her onto the soft feathered mattresses like she was the most precious thing in existence. He wondered if anyone had ever seen this side of her before, he was certain that nobody had seen this side of him. She was a brutal, relentless murder machine, yet here she lay angelic. He climbed in next to her, enveloping her in his colossal wings, craving to feel every part of her body against his hot flesh.

“I think I’m going to enjoy our partnership” she confessed barely above a whisper, half conscious as sleep welcomed her in. Raphael’s sharp toothed smile immediately lit up his face hearing these words, but he could not express his true feeling of conquest without threatening to disturb her peaceful form. Instead, he simply let out a low growl and pulled her even closer, revelling in the feeling of acceptance and relief, breathing in her scent like a drug.

🍒 I fucking LOVED writing this! Let me know if you want more Raphael or a part 2 please 🍒