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[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Early Riser (John Price x Reader) Smut

Based on the prompt: "Keep kissing me like that and we're gonna end up back in bed."

AN: Semi-inspired by the end of Season 1!Hotch who is excited to spend annual leave doing chores with his wife. Love it when a man enters malewife mode.

In other news, I'm gonna start a Price x Reader series soon! It's gonna be a lot of angsty pining so if that's your jam, I can't wait for you to read it!

Requests are open! Here's my guidelines to read before you send in a request and a list of kiss prompts if you're stuck for ideas.

Content warnings: Smut (18+ only, minors DNI), basically Price goes down on you in the kitchen. Reader is gender neutral and genitals described are gender neutral. No use of Y/N.

Masterlist // AO3 Version

Palms pressed into the cool granite countertop, you idly watched the space to the left of your kettle as it boiled. You had barely scrounged up the energy to leave your warm bed to get this drink; you did not have anything spare to be aware whilst you prepared it. The few aspects of your mind that were awake hoped this would fit the loophole of “a watched pot never boils” so that you could return to your room as fast as possible.

Finally, the water bubbled loudly and the switch flicked off. You poured a healthy amount into both your mug and the spare one you had for guests. Steam wafted up whilst carrying the strong scent of coffee; a splash of milk sweetened it before you prepared to stir in some sugar.

Something clamped down onto your right hip. You drew in a sharp inhale before it slid out slowly, relaxing as another hand mirrored its partner and the rest of John Price folded him up against you.

“Good morning,” You whispered.

“It is now.” John’s voice rolled off his tongue like a growl, deepened by his recent rousing from sleep. He paired his reply with a kiss on your shoulder. Briefly allowing his forehead to rest where his lips had been, he then kissed your aching neck. Your heart’s eager pulse greeted him.

“Keep kissing me like that and we’re gonna end up back in bed,” You warned, despite allowing his arms to trap you in a grip a boa constrictor would be jealous of.

John let out a gentle hum; he swayed you both from side to side in time with the clink of the spoon against your mug.

Then he mumbled, “Don’t need the bed.”

The teaspoon clattered on the countertop as his hands found their marks. Instinctively, your body keened against John’s, allowing him to rut into you whilst tenderly squeezing over your pyjamas.

Your voice came out a little whinier than expected, “Don’t want breakfast then?”

“Actually, I’m famished,” John said and his coarse facial hair tickled against your cheek, “Figured I should help myself.”

A laugh tripped over your tongue into a moan before you replied: “You’re horrible. Didn’t you get enough last night?”

“Never enough. Just ran out of steam.” Calloused fingertips found the gap between your sleep shirt and trousers. They spread warmth up your torso, cupping your chest, your shirt caught on his forearm.

“John,” You let your head fall back against him, “We have time.”

“Never enough,” he repeated. “Hate waking up and you’re not there.”

“You need me now?”

“Please.”

Freed from his grasp for a split second, you pushed the coffee cups into the sink, not caring about the spilt steaming liquid that glugged down the drain, then you shoved back the sugar pot and milk. John spun then lifted you onto the cool countertop. His body was drawn back against yours, returning his lips to your neck and the evidence of his affection he’d left last night. Your hips rose up as he yanked down your pyjamas and slid down on his knees. A grunt stuck in his throat; you held back a comment about his aging joints but not the smirk.

Instead, you scratched your nails through his hair, giving it a tender tug whenever he kissed your thigh. “You’re gonna clean this up after.”

His words were half lost against your skin, “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the gutters need clearing.” You could feel his lips twitch with mirth against you before he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. “And the oven could use a scrub.”

“Make me a list.” His hands squeezed the meat of your legs to close them around his head.

A gentle sigh escaped you, “You’re so good to me.”

Looking up at you with bleary blue eyes, John whispered, “Nothing you don’t deserve.”

And, to prove his point, he rewarded you with his tongue, talented and tenacious.

[moomeecore]

the idea behind this was 'sol warriorcats but drawn like an animated villain'

[madaqueue]

LIKE WE WERE MADE TO

of course your doting boyfriend satoru cares about you - he walks you to work every morning, packs your lunches, makes you tea every night before bed. he'd do anything for you, so of course he'll help you with your heat.

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!f!reader

themes/content: dark content (omegaverse). smut. heats, fingering, knotting, light dumbification, satoru being a little lovesick. (wk: 1.3k)

a/n: YAYYY happy quintober everyone >:) here's my contribution for the @ficsforgaza kinktober event, so excited to be a part of this and check out the link below for more works under this project! view my full kinktober masterlist and the google form for signup to be tagged in other works too! hope you all enjoy :3

quintober masterlist | sign up form | ffg kinktober

Satoru had no idea what to expect as he ran home through the crowded streets; since reading your brief text of ‘Come home. Need you.’ the alarm bells sounding in his head had failed to quiet. He prepared for the worst, scenarios racing through his mind. Were you hurt?

As he barrels through your front door, he certainly doesn’t expect what lays behind it: you, sprawled out naked on the couch, flushed cheeks and sweating, two fingers buried deep inside your cunt.

“What’s going on-”

The sentence dies in his throat as his entire body tenses. Something new hangs in the air, something sending his every sense into overdrive. Almost sickeningly sweet, with an unmistakable, carnal need.

Your heat.

“‘Toru,” you breathe out - even his name on your tongue sounds different, an unfamiliar desperation dripping from it, “need you, now.”

In an instant he’s by your side, your scent growing exponentially stronger with each step he takes until it begins to cloud his own thoughts, overcome with his body’s innate desire to care for you, to care for his omega.

He’s never seen you like this - in your time dating, your suppressants had done their job; maybe that’s why you barely noticed when they ran out last week. Just a few hours ago he was walking hand-in-hand with you to work, your eyes glimmering as you told him about your plans for the day. Something about a big meeting with supervisors? He was honestly a bit distracted by the way your thumb drew circles along his skin, the new perfume he thought you were wearing, how pretty you looked all bundled up in your coat and scarf, like a little present waiting to be unwrapped - before you lightly smacked the back of his head.

“Are you even listening to me, ‘Toru?”

“No,” he beamed.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stifle the smile spreading across your lips. Pressing a peck to his cheek, you turned on your heel with a small wave, your fingers dancing against the backdrop of the fall sky.

You always knew how to handle him - that was something he admired about you. He knew his personality easily veered into chaos, and yet you never seemed bothered by it, holding him in your palms and keeping him a stable shape. It took strength to do that, to not let his soul blend the edges of your own.

And yet, now, his strong, independent girlfriend has become nothing more than a sweet, desperate mess. The thought makes his teeth ache.

“Please,” the broken mewl pulls him back to the sweetness surrounding you as you continue pumping your fingers in and out.

Before he can choke out a response, your hands begin hastily removing his clothes, tugging off anything you can grab, palms sweaty against his torso as you unzip his uniform. With a harsh tear, his shirt falls to shreds on the floor, muscles rippling beneath. He was never known for his patience, after all - could you blame him?

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, climbing on top of you so his thighs straddle your body, sinking into the cushions. “I’m here, m’gonna take good care of you.”

Two lanky fingers collect the slick pooling at your entrance as his free hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling your palm from between your legs. He holds it above your head, leaning forward and blanketing you in his warmth. A wave of pleasure crashes over you as he slides inside, curling his fingertips towards that spot only he seems able to reach.

But it’s not enough.

“More, ‘Toru, please, need more,” you whine, your hips bucking up involuntarily. The words continue spilling into the air, desperate pleas for what you really need, what only he can give you.

“Okay, just - fuck - gimme a second.” And he’s panting already, the biological drive within him threatening to take over, to pin you down and fuck you until you’re nothing more than a limp little mess beneath him. But he’s better than that.

Right?

It takes every ounce of control to align his tip with your core and stay there for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the stretch as he knows you would want him to, but it’s made all the more difficult with your hands weakly grasping at his hips in an attempt to pull him forward.

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” you babble, “pleaaaseee-aaaahhh.”

When his cock finally enters you, all your nerves alight in flames. Your vision goes white, eyes rolling back as he fills you up. Exactly what you needed. For a moment, everything stills, returning to your senses as his own musky scent begins mingling in the air with yours.

The brief clarity lets you pick up on the prettiest little whines falling from his lips at the way you envelop him so perfectly, two souls made for one another.

In only a few thrusts he’s sweating, his body sticking to yours with each push and pull of his pelvis. It’s hot, impossibly hot, both of your cheeks flushed and gasping for air. When his lips meet yours, it’s imprecise and messy, breathing into each other’s mouths as your tongues meld. He tastes like sugar and desire and love and cinnamon, like some dessert you were denied as a child for fear it would give you a tummy ache. But now, it’s the only thing satiating you, the only thing you can stomach.

“M’gonna make you feel better,” he’s mumbling into you, “gonna fuck you so good.”

“Only you, ‘Toru,” you babble, and you’re just as gone as he is, “has to be you.”

There’s truth to it, of course - only he could quell the growing ache inside you. Only your alpha. Your bodies were made for this, you realize: with each increasingly rough thrust, he hits every spot inside you so perfectly, and as your walls begin to flutter around him, you squeeze him in just the way that has him losing the last remaining shreds of his sanity.

Each beat of his heart echoes through his ears, overshadowing the wet squelches of your cunt around him and the lewd slapping of his balls against your ass. All he knows is you - his sweetheart, his other half, his omega.

As he ruts into you, something hot and thick begins coiling in his stomach, something unfamiliar, but the words are engraved into his soul as he slurs, “gonna take my knot f’me, yeah? ‘S’gonna help, okay?”

Teary eyes blink up at him, glossed over in pleasure as you nod. “Need it, please,” you whimper. Your mouth forms the word on pure instinct, “Alpha.”

And that’s all it takes to make him snap.

With a broken cry of your name, he releases into you.

The sensation of his cock twitching sends you over the edge, the heat in your chest burning brighter and brighter and brighter until it’s all you can feel.

As you come down from your high, there’s a new pressure in your core - you feel so, so fucking full.

His cum swells inside you as he cautiously adjusts his body weight. Pink cheeks and blue eyes find your gaze and he gives you a weak chuckle, met with your own equally fucked-out grin as you brush sweat-slicked hair from his forehead.

It takes effort to slow his breathing enough to speak, enough to think. “Your first heat with me,” he muses to himself. His heart warms at the thought: now he can take care of you in the way he was made to. “Love you s’much, baby,” he hums, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips before nuzzling into your neck, softly breathing in the warm scent.

“Love you, too.” Your fingertips slowly scratch his undercut, the haze now clearing enough that you swear you hear him purr. Your cunt involuntarily clenches around him - around his knot - as you gently run your nails down his back. His body melds perfectly around yours. “Alpha.”

[ninewhiskers]

jayfeather design

[tobyisave]

hammock negotiations

[capricornlevi]

"workin' new years for the third time in a row should be illegal," atsumu scoffs, shoving another fistful of popcorn into his mouth. he's perched up on the glass counter closest to the exit, meaning he can slip off quickly if the cranky night manager sticks his head out of his office to check up on you two. "who wants to spend midnight in a movie theatre, anyway?"

you sigh, more fond than frustrated. "you've worked three new year's eves in a row and still don't know the appeal of our late night when harry met sally showing? it sells out by Halloween."

you're sitting in front of the register, having dragged some old folding chairs out from storage to rest on until close. the lobby is dead, and you've got an eye on the security cams to see if anyone leaves the packed screen down the hallway. if you're being forced to work late into the night, you'll at least be comfortable.

you hear a door creak and pause, checking to see if you're about to be scolded for pouring yourself another slushee on the company dime. when no manager surfaces, you return to the conversation, with atsumu stifling his yawn with more popcorn.

"'course i know about it," he chimes back, running his non-popcorn-holding hand through his messy blond hair. "just don't get it, is all, and i don't know why we're always the ones stuck on the holiday shifts, 'specially since we already did christmas eve."

"we're college students, 'tsumu. bottom of the pecking order in terms of festive rostering, i'm afraid."

he sighs, checking the clock behind the nacho display case -- you follow suit, seeing the second hand tick closer and closer to midnight. four minutes til new years, another thirty-ish before closing.

"want a refill on that slushee?" atsumu asks, sliding off the counter and stretching out his shoulders. his black t-shirt lifts slightly and you make an effort to ignore the toned muscles peeking out from underneath. "also -- those chairs look more comfortable than the counter, so I'm gonna steal one too."

even if you didn't know he was captain of the college volleyball team, you could likely guess from the strength in those arms as he shifts some boxes out of the way to take a seat next to you.

"yes please," you answer sweetly, a beat too late, throwing him a beaming smile as he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

as he gets back up, he calls out, "cherry, right?"

something flutters through your chest as you call back to him, "right."

"heathen. blue raspberry is superior in every way."

it's your turn to scoff now. "there's no such thing as a blue raspberry, it's a made-up flavour. at least everyone knows cherries are red."

atsumu appears at your side again, handing you the drink. as you accept it with a smile, he places one of his cold hands on your forearm, laughing as you wince and shift away.

"you're ridiculous," you say, half-chuckling and half-earnest. "here i am, spending new years eve toiling away with you, and this is the respect i get."

"i never promised respect -- i promised slushees," he points out, eyes glinting as you meet them. "and we're not exactly toilin' away, i gotta admit."

you take a long sip of your slushee, hoping your lips don't stain red before the customers file out later.

atsumu clears his throat awkwardly, as if he's debating finishing the sentence.

"and it's not so bad, with you," he continues slowly, almost sheepishly.

in the years you've worked together, you have never heard him sound so ... earnest. turning your head to meet his eyes again, you see them diverted to his hands.

"not so bad with you, either, 'tsumu," you reply softly.

he looks back up to you. "i mean it, y'know. even if i wasn't workin', i wouldn't mind ... bein' with you. i mean -- i'd -- i'd like it, spendin' new years with you ..."

"i know what you mean," you gently interrupt him for both your sakes -- his, to relieve him of his uncharacteristically anxious rambling, and yours, so you can figure out how to get your heart beating at a normal pace. you turn in your chair to face him properly, lips curled up into a small, barely-there and very overwhelmed smile.

just as he's about to say something else, you see his eyes flick back to the clock.

"ten seconds," he mumbles, a few strands of hair falling into his forehead. you reach your hand to brush them out of the way for him.

"five," you smile, dipping your head in closer, and when you see atsumu do the same, you continue.

"three."

"two."

"one."

it's a slow kiss, slower than you'd ever expected. atsumu never did things slowly, never took things at any pace other than chaotic, but this is different. he handles you carefully, his hand at the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer to him, lips moving against yours as if savouring every part of every second he gets to do this. as though he's imagined it as much as you have.

you kiss him until you feel as though you're running out of air. when you finally pull away, you marvel at the light pink flush painting atsumu's pretty cheekbones, the look of longing written across the rest of his features, the way his eyes battle between focusing on your face or your lips.

"happy new year, 'tsumu," you whisper, and his smile matches your own.

"happy new year," he says, hushed and low, before leaning in to kiss you again.

you have another twenty-five minutes, after all. and for the first time in your time working here, you're grateful that this theatre schedules when harry met sally so late into the night.

[pearlwingdraws]

The valley beyond

[chosoclub]

Was thinking ab stripper au with choso here’s this :))))))) (bro fs needs a lap dance after the most recent chapter sheesh)

The gap between the door and the frame is two millimeters, just enough to fit your retina peeking through it and onto the mesh of blue and purple. You refuse to tell the other girls you’re crouching behind the shield of the door out of fear they’d smirk and brag about how they were right all along – yeah, we figured you liked him when he’s the only one you stare at all night, they’d taunt. And because they were right and because you refused to admit it, you’re alone in the changing room when everyone has gone out to the dancefloor, huddled and waiting. He usually came around this time but his schedule was so unpredictable. The only facet was the baseless hope that tugged at your ribs that he’d walk through the dancing lights at any minute.

You watch as the other girls take on the stage, flying from the top of the ceiling and gracefully landing on the floor. The bass of the music grows louder by the minute and the lights increase in their saturation and glow. People cheer when the girls swing around the poles in bass with the music. You’re so distracted by them dancing that you miss him wandering inside. When your pupils switch back to his walking shadows, you slam the door shut. 

You didn’t even catch a glimpse of his outfit this time. Last time, he had worn black ripped jeans, loose at his legs the frays brushing against the muscles, and a gray shirt that rode up his waist when your pelvis was grinding against it. You remember catching a glimpse of his pale skin when the hem of his shirt reached his lower abs. The time before that he didn’t get a dance at all, the first and only time he was accompanied by other people. 

You face the cubbies and lean your head against your palms. Your heartbeat thumps against your ribs in beat with the music so loud you don’t hear the door creak open and barely catch the sentence,

“Hey, babes, get up and out there – he’s requesting you.”

You can barely muffle it through the meat of your palms, “who?”

“You know who,” a scoff from the dancer, you can tell in between beats of silence she’s rolling her eyes, “Your man, he specifically requested you.” 

It feels like your heart is going to crack your ribcage or crawl up your throat and beat onto the floor; You can’t remember the last time you were this nervous, not over a man. Your ears have never grown hot over a man before, your shoulders have never tensed like this. The bench that initially felt cold against the thin, mesh fabric cover-up over your hips and thighs suddenly grows hot like a grill you have to jolt up from. 

“You don’t wanna keep him waiting, yeah?” You barely hear her when you open the door to the rest of the club and only catch her playful wink. 

You try to gather all the confidence into your shoulders as you’re walking over to him – the whole shoulders back, neck high, back straight routine. He’s sitting on the couch, body facing the stage but not particularly focused on anything. One of his arms is sprawled against the back of the couch, the other on his leg. It’s dark, and you can barely see the floor you’re walking on, but when you approach him you can see clearly the outline of his hair, down sitting against his neck this time. 

He’s staring right at you when you stand in front of him, face stern except for the small smirk that wedges a small wrinkle against his cheeks. You’ve given countless lap dances, but this one is already leaving you wordless. You quietly sigh to calm your nerves instead, listening to the beat of the song playing to match your moves to. 

Standing before him, stage lights gleaming against your back creating the perfect silhouette that you feel like you can sink back against, you begin like you always do. You bend at your hips, dragging your hands over your body as you come back up, rolling your body when you do; In the second the lights go dark, you’re on your knees, extending them further apart and bringing them together then one hand in front of the other and catching his eyes in the process, you’re between his knees. 

You rise from his legs and lower your hips on top of his, feeling his jet-black eyes on you the entire time, arm sliding from the back of the couch and onto your waist. A move that would make you uneasy, from him, feels almost like encouragement. The halo around your figure gleams. You swing your hips to the melody, each time grinding closer and closer to his pelvis. When you buck your hips down completely, grinding them against the hem of his jeans, his smirk dissipates, only leaving you to lean closer to brush your lips against his ears as you arch your back. 

Choso tips his head back, lips apart, inhaling your breath and smelling the perfume that emits from your neck. He’s still watching you, or your silhouette, you can see his half-lidded eyes, retinas tipped down to catch any glimpse of your face. 

You grind to the beat of the music against his waist, leaning close to his nose only to completely turn your hips to face the stage and lean forward, hands running up his thighs. A break from looking at his face and raven hair has you releasing a breathless sigh when you come back up and tilt your neck back, hips against the base of his groin. You draw your hips forward and back, hands at your scalp for extra sultry until you finally lean your back against his chest, almost grinding all of your body against him.  

Choso lets out a soft groan against the back of your head, which only has you lifting your pelvis to abrase against his once more. He gives up on keeping his hands to himself, placing them at your waist and guiding you against him – It’s something you’d never let anyone do, but it was true that you liked him more than just a familiar face around the club and the smile that takes your face only further proves so. He moves his hands to your thighs, lifting your weight in parallel with his until you’re both moving to the beat and his head has moved to the base of your neck. 

You turn back to face him, making sure that your hair brushes against his collarbone as you do. He sighs when you bring your arms on his shoulders and roll your hips in a circle. By the climax of the song, you both have your heads tilted back as your hips roll in confluence. You tip your chin forward, rolling over his abs and leaning close to his nose. He closes the distance to swallow your breaths in a kiss. His lips are warm and soft, immediately suckling at your bottom lip and softly prodding his tongue in between the valley. You match his pace, keeping your hips pressed against him in consistent movement. One of his hands leaves a space on your hip to trace your jaw as his kiss deepens – It feels like your lips are slowly morphing to become one how deep he runs his tongue through the inside of your mouth.

You pull away, your mouths separating in a wet and messy squelch. His eyelids are still dipped down, lashes touching his waterline, and a smirk sits on his lips. You mirror the grin, leaning against his ear,

“Same time next week?”

[buckevantommy]

maybe this is just my pet peeve, but:

it would be helpful if authors could mention the wordcount for longer fics posted on tumblr - I'm talking over 1k, especially if it's all below the cut OR there's no fic, only an ao3 link, and you also have your fics behind a login wall bc that means having to open in a browser to login bc tumblr browser doesn't recognise.. it's just frustrating.. all these extra steps just to see a wordcount let alone fic tags means i won't bother and i know i might be missing out on good fic 🫠🫠🫠

[tomlivingspace]

now that i have so many followers its funny when someone who has my main blog blocked because i made an untagged post about how i didnt like leafpool two years ago that was screencapped and passed around interacts with my posts LMAO

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Seduced By Your Scent (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary: Swayed by rave reviews, you purchase a perfume that endeavours to make any man fall for you. But you don’t want just any man; you want your beloved husband.

AN: Based on a perfume review I saw on twitter/from discord, and my friend got me back into Bridgerton so here we are. Potential part two to Subtle-tea but can be read as its own fic. 

Content Warnings: Reader wears a dress, is referred to as “my lady”. Suggestive language and actions, 18+ readers only, minors DNI

Masterlist // AO3

“You must try this elixir! It’s like they’ve bottled Venus and sent her to solve all marital issues!”

Not that you and Benedict needed any kind of aphrodisiac or marital advice. After your glorious wedding and the honeymoon of your dreams, you grew more enamoured with one another with each passing day. But you couldn’t help but become intrigued by your companion’s impassioned declarations.

Here was where that curiosity led you: sitting at your vanity, staring at the bejewelled and beautiful bottle – fitting of its praise and hinting at the power of the perfume it held. It cast rainbow refractions across your room as you rotated it with a scrupulous gaze. The glass stopper released with a delicate pop and you gave the opening a tentative sniff. Sparks of something musky with a hint of whimsy reached your brain. It seemed to caress your sense of smell, lull you into a foggy serenity whilst curving the corners of your mouth into a smile.

A light knock at your bedroom door did very little to pull your from this haze, and your maid stood awkwardly in the doorway as you dragged your eyes away from the bottle and over to her.

“Breakfast is ready, my lady,” The maid bobbed a curtsey.

“Thank you.” And, as she closed the door behind her exit, you gave the bottle one more look.

Well, it couldn’t hurt.

With care, you tipped the bottle then dragged the soaked stopper across one wrist. It pressed together with its partner then paired against your neck to seal the scent in.

The moment you stepped into the dining room – empty besides your beloeved husband - Benedict rose from the head of the table and drew out the chair beside him for you to sit. It was part of your routine, in your home and wherever you went, as was the smile with which he greeted you. Often it was broad and beaming, like today. Sometimes it was more subtle but with his eyes just as bright. On one or two occasions, it arrived with eyelids sunk and a hand to his forehead that pounded with consequences from the previous night’s actions, but still he smiled even though (and these were his own words) it felt like his skin was being melted from his skeleton like candle wax.

“Good morning!” He called to you while you crossed the room, his arm outstretched to clasp you close then guide you into your chair.

Continuing the routine, you kissed his cheek before sitting down, “Good morning.”

Now, this was when Benedict would push your chair in then sit beside you, ready to dine and run over your plans for the day ahead. And he started as normal. However the rate with which he pushed your chair into place was as if he was encased in jelly.

You clocked his new blank expression, “My love, are you alright?”

Instead of speaking, Benedict bent over the back of the chair and kissed your cheek. A short and slight sniff dragged up where his lips had pressed. He withdrew gradually, just a few inches, his brow was creased in thought.

“Hmm.” His jaw twisted and he clicked his tongue. Then he leant back in, this time his nose drew a tickling line down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Benedict,” You felt your face grow hot as you resisted the urge to tense when he planted a quick kiss on the curve of your shoulder.

But your mild embarrassment only warmed the scent on your skin and spread it further around you until Benedict was encased in it beside you. Just one of your thoughts was spared in thanks to the fact that you and Benedict had stipulated that you dine alone – no butlers, no maids, no interruptions unless someone was dying.

“Have you been bathing in an aphrodisiac?” Benedict mused. Without turning away from you, he dragged his chair loudly across the floor so that he could perch himself beside you. Taking your hand, he kissed your loosely closed fist and breathed deeply in before finishing his question:

“Or are you just naturally this irresistible, and you’ve been hiding from me?”

“I can’t think what’s gotten into you,” You said, your voice wobbling when Benedict raised his eyebrows at you.

“I think you know exactly what’s gotten into me.”

Melting under his sparkling stare, you weakly nodded at his plate and setting, “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Benedict didn’t look away from you, “I know what I’d rather eat.”

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you found yourself bordering on hysterics as Benedict’s eyes creased and he leant in close to you to titter and teem with joy.

After taking a few deep breaths, your face aching from the grin, you managed to say, “You must be drunk from the alcohol in that perfume.”

With a hand clutching at his cravat, Benedict gasped, appalled, “How dare you? Must I be drunk to show my wife some affection?”

“Nevertheless, you approve?”

“Oh yes, but only when we’re at home. Can’t let anyone else catch a whiff of this. You’ll seduce them, make them all fall in love with you, make them fall to their knees.”

“We absolutely cannot have that. Only you’re allowed to do so.”

Very suddenly, Benedict rose and kicked the seat from beneath him, pulling and pivoting you around so that you faced him. Knelt before you, you let him kiss you whilst you pet through his dark hair. His affections did not distract you from his hands tracing up your legs. The skirts of your dress caught on his wrists and exposed your sensitive skin to him.

He mumbled dreamily, “I could not agree more.” Then, with another deep inhale pressed into the side of your neck and his hands drawing down your undergarments, he drew from you the first of many delighted sighs that mingled with the lingering scent of your new perfume.

[moomeecore]

i havent even read the new books actually

[ninewhiskers]

all wc artists should pay her for her service

[cheerclaw]

CONGRATS CHEER!!! mind drawing my little guy? shes cursed by god

here u go!!

[amethystficarchive]

By the Lamp Grass Glow

Rating: E/NSFW

Wordcount: 1K

Ship: Venluc, Diluven, Venti x Diluc

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Picnic Date, Top Venti, Bottom Diluc

Link to A03 for easier reading: here

Preview: Diluc has been working hard and Venti wants to spoil his dear lover.

There were few things Diluc knew for certain. Plant Cecelia by the gate for the Anemo's Archon blessing according to his late father. Grapes that are covered in bloom will make the sweetest wine. And finally, the Anemo Archon is not as sneaky as he likes to pretend to be.

Diluc looked over his shoulder at the bard sometimes known as Barbatos who was curled up behind him, perching on the chair like the cats he was allergic to.

"You're working too hard and too much. Come with me." Venti said and Diluc cracked his neck, grabbing another sheet of paper as the fireplace crackled and popped in the twilight settling around Mondstadt at Dawn Winery.

"No, there's too much to be done, and you promised you'd behave." Diluc said as Venti pouted.

"Your god has seen your efforts and demands you offer yourself rest." Venti whispered in his ear as the sweet scent of Cecilia enveloped Diluc, causing him to both shiver and relax slightly.

"What a terrible abuse of power, knowing my past devotion." Diluc hummed and Venti pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Past, devotion?" Venti wondered with a slight giggle, falling into Diluc's lap with a smile that made Diluc's heart flutter. Diluc said nothing, doing his best to work around Venti as Venti sighed.

"Is it so horrible I would like to do something nice for you and take care of you? You protect our city and make Mondstadt proud and yet still you work, work, work with no end in sight. I will not see you go into an early grave or run yourself ragged." Venti said, cupping Diluc's face with a tender, earnest expression that made him want to squirm.

Diluc sighed, relenting and closing his eyes as he let Venti kiss his forehead, before he stood and lifted Venti into the crook of his arms while Venti gave a delighted giggle and little 'woo-hoo'!

"Take care of me then, Barbatos."

༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄

Diluc blinked in surprise as Venti led him to the picnic he had set up on a hidden shore in Wolvendom. Venti took the bouquet of Lamp Grass he had collected for Diluc from Diluc's arms and placed them in the glass vase in the middle of the picnic blanket and cushions that were laid out, surrounded by the glowing blue of the still growing lamp grass.

It was... nice... more than nice, actually, it was breathtaking.

Venti sat Diluc down, taking out a bottle of wine from the basket and a few items that Venti must have gotten from Good Hunter, including a Sticky Honey Roast. Diluc lit the candelabra with his vision, although he did not think it was necessary with how brightly the Lamp Grass was glowing. Still the fire was a comfort.

Diluc never thought he would be wooed by his Archon but here he was, feeling incredibly lucky and special. He pulled Venti into his lap, kissing the back of his neck, a bit overwhelmed as Venti hummed happily and looked up at him.

Diluc knew he could be a bit harsh and stern at times, but wanted to show his Archon how much he has always meant to Diluc, even if Venti already knew.

"Can I show you something?" Diluc asked and Venti nodded, looking at him with curious, bright eyes. Diluc kissed his head and stood, walking towards the water's edge.

"Don't laugh or tease. I was always... fascinated by Barbatos' wings. When I was younger, I dreamed of flying with you..." Diluc said, shedding his coat and concentrating on his vision.

"We can fly anytime you'd like. I would love to show you the sky." Venti said with a soft smile and Diluc exhaled, urging the fiery bird he loved to command to instead create giant wings of Pyro at his back, letting him hover in the air. Venti's mouth hung open a bit and suddenly Diluc was surrounded by feathers as Barbatos rushed over to him, his broad wings outstretched as he flew Diluc up into the sky with a kiss.

"You are stunning, my dear Diluc, this is quite a look." Barbatos teased in a melodic voice that had Diluc growing hot.

"Take me, Barbatos. I am yours and you promised to take care of me." Diluc said and Barbatos gently flew them down, laying Diluc down in a bed on a small wooden boat surrounded by the flora of Mondstadt.

"I will, my good boy." Venti said and Diluc moaned, head becoming soft as he was enveloped in a cocoon of feathers. Venti kissed Diluc’s neck, unbuttoning his vest and shirt before working his breeches off of him, huffing in annoyance when they got caught in Diluc’s boots, taking them off and enveloping Diluc once more, the moon shining through Barbatos’ brilliant white feathers and golden adornments.

“Where is it? No, not by your tit.” Venti muttered as he smacked his hand around the wood of the boat looking for something before letting out a cheer and uncorking a bottle of oil. He worked Diluc open thoroughly, tenderly, whispering sweet praises in Diluc’s ear as Diluc relaxed and was content in his Archon’s hold.

“That’s it, my fiery love. My sweetheart.” Barbatos crooned in Diluc’s ear as he pressed his cock in, rocking Diluc against the seat of the row boat carefully. He hilted himself, brushing Diluc’s bangs back tenderly and kissed him as he pulled out slightly, using his wings to propel him forward, bits of Anemo stirring up the flowers and causing the petals to fall on Diluc as Diluc moaned.

“My most beautiful and steadfast aria.” Barbatos said with a smile, eyes slightly glowing as Diluc trembled, arching his back and coming with a cry at the love and praise, Barbatos working him through it until he too was coming. As Barbatos moved them gently back to shore, humming and stroking Diluc’s hair, there was one more thing Diluc knew for certain.

His Archon loves him so much.

A/N: I love interacting with readers in the comments and I promise I don’t bite so please let me if you enjoyed it in the comments/tags!!! Reblogs and likes greatly appreciated

[merthurglompfest]

Title: kintsugi By: @schweetheart Gift for: DarKymi / @rehaliahdrarys Rating: Mature Word Count: 1000 words Warning(s): N/A Creator Notes (Optional):

Dear DarKymi,

As soon as a I saw your prompt, I knew I had to take it—I absolutely love the idea of invisible soulmarks, and it felt like something I just had to try to draw! Originally, I was planning to add some animation to the art, but I ended up running out of time, mostly because I decided to add a fic as well 😅 I hope you enjoy what I've done with it anyway!

Thanks again for participating in the fest, and to Salamandair for the lightning-fast beta ♥️

Summary:

“They’re beautiful.” Merlin traced the edges with his fingertips, fascinated by the way Arthur’s skin glowed golden under his touch—a kind of magical vitiligo. “I didn’t know they could light up like that. Did you?” “No.” Arthur reached out in turn, pushing Merlin’s shirt off over his shoulders to better view the marks where they spread across his torso. “Do you think they match?” 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55610773