#with smut aplenty to come

[some-sick-deja-vu]

Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Loki (TV 2021) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Loki/Mobius M. Mobius Characters: Loki (Marvel), Mobius M. Mobius Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Insecure Loki (Marvel), Adoring Mobius, Vulnerable Loki (Marvel), Romantic Fluff, Flirting, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Jealous Loki (Marvel), Possessive Loki (Marvel), Soft Mobius M. Mobius, Top Mobius M. Mobius, Bottom Loki (Marvel), First Kiss, First Time, Eventual Smut, Shameless Smut, Mobius M. Mobius Loves Loki, Loki Loves Mobius M. Mobius, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Mobius M. Mobius, Post-Loki (TV 2021) Season 2, Loki stays at the TVA and has more adventures au, Praise Kink, Inner Dialogue, Misunderstandings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Jealous Mobius M. Mobius, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub Series: Part 1 of Lokius fluff and smut 💚🕰️😍🍰 Summary:

Look. First of all, Loki is just fine, okay? Is he in love with his best friend and terrified to lose him by saying so? Yes, but that is manageable. It has to be. All he needs to do is keep his unruly and passionate longing in check until he's positive that Mobius feels the same way. This ingenious approach will ensure that he won't lose Mobius by confessing his love!

So, Loki decides to drop a series of hints to Mobius about his feelings. Is Mobius going to pick up on these clues and take the lead? Otherwise...Loki just might explode from desperate and frustrated yearning.

[wcnderlnds]

greenlight | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: you're a virgin, he's had the patience of a saint but on a night out at a party you end up on his lap and Seunghyun just has to tease you mercilessly. ・❥・word count: 2.3k ・❥・warnings: 18+. smut. thigh riding, dirty talk, teasing, swearing. female reader. ・❥・ authors note: hey yo this is a new series of seunghyun and virgin!reader going through the motions. enjoy!!

The music in the club blasted out through the speakers, the sound echoing off the walls, almost making the entire building shake. Clubs weren’t usually your scene, mostly opting to stay inside and bask in the comfort of your own apartment. Unfortunately, dating a famous K-Pop star meant parties were aplenty and being the ever doting girlfriend, you always attended to support your man. Seunghyun was your heart and soul — you would do anything for that man. The one saving factor was that he wasn’t that into them either. Usually, he’d spend about an hour mingling, talking to people before he found a quiet corner to sit down in.

That’s where you found him.

To celebrate the release of MADE, YG had decided to throw a party. Anyone who was anyone was there. BigBang were his babies, his money makers so, of course, YG went all out. There wasn’t a penny spared — hiring out the best club in Korea for the night and an open bar for the whole evening. A bunch of pop stars and free alcohol? A disaster waiting to happen. Not for you, though. You’d only had maybe two glasses of wine, wanting to keep a clear head knowing that your boyfriend was a weakling and be passed out after a few drinks.

He couldn’t have proved you more wrong. As you spotted him in the corner, his jacket unbuttoned, showing off the black shirt he was wearing, he still had the half glass of wine you’d seen him with earlier. Your heels clicked along the floor as you made your way over to him in his secluded corner, your hands smoothing out the tight black dress you had on making sure you weren’t giving anyone a view they didn’t deserve.

Seunghyun eyes glanced up just in time, raking appreciatively over your body as you walked towards him. The way your cleavage was spilling out over the top of your dress, the way your hips swayed with your walk — it was enough to drive any man crazy. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he checked you out, already shifting in his seat as he felt the blood rushing straight between his legs.

The only thing stopping him from pouncing on you was that you were a virgin. Seunghyun had been the perfect gentleman, never pressuring you into anything and waiting until you were ready but that didn’t mean it wasn’t torture for him. There were so many nights he’d had to take things into his own hands (literally) and pleasure himself to the thought of you. How could he not? You were the hottest, goddamn thing alive in his eyes. But, for you, he had the patience of a saint. It would happen when it happened and he was more than willing to come along for the journey. Knowing that he would probably be the first man to have you, to claim you? It turned him on more than he could even put into words.

“Hey, good lookin’, you come here often?” He smirked. The drink in his hand was placed on the table in front of him as he leaned forward, his hand reaching out to tug you towards him.

A giggle filled the air between you as you fell onto his lap. You landed with your leg between his, straddling one of his thighs. Seunghyun’s hands flew to your hips to stop you from tumbling any more than you had. You were exactly where he wanted you. To steady yourself, your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly snaking their way around his neck. Fingers toyed with the pink hair at the nape of his neck sending a shiver down his spine. A simple touch from you could turn him to putty.

“Hmm, only when my very talented and handsome boyfriend is celebrating one of his many achievements,” you leaned forward, lips meeting his for a brief moment. Seunghyun’s eyes closed at the feeling, lost in the taste of you even if it was only for a split second.

Then something happened.

A soft gasp.

You had shifted on his lap to get more comfortable, accidentally grinding yourself against the denim of his black jeans. Your dress being as short as it was meant not only did you grind on him but it was through the very thin material of your panties, too. As soon as the sound left your mouth, his eyes snapped open.

He needed to hear that again.

“What was that?” He teased, cocking his head to the side.

“Nothing,” your cheeks flushed pink which, of course, he caught on to immediately. Oh, this was going to be fun.

He left it for a moment, trying to find the right second to strike. As you got more comfortable, he tried to act nonchalant and not like he was forming a plan to hear that pretty little sound to come out of your mouth again. When he felt your body relax, your fingers twirling his hair around your finger as you looked at him with a sweet smile, it was time to strike.

He bounced his leg lightly. Then again with a little more force and that’s when he saw it — the way you bit your bottom lip, adjusting yourself on his thigh. So, acting like he had no idea what he was doing, he kept bouncing his leg. One particularly hard bounce gave him exactly what he was wanted.

A moan.

It was like music to his ears. The prettiest sound he’d ever heard in his life. If he could play that on a loop, he’d be a happy man.

“You okay, princess?” He leaned in, his voice a deep, seductive whisper in your ear. His teeth lightly tugged on your earlobe, unable to help himself now that he had you this close.

“Mhm,” you nodded, afraid if you said anything else, you might actually moan louder. It wasn’t intentional, you couldn’t help it but it felt so good. The throbbing in your pussy becoming harder to ignore especially when he was whispering in your ear.

“I think my innocent girl isn’t so innocent after all.” His fingers dug into your hips, slowly but surely pulling you gently back and forth against his leg. “You like that, don’t you, princess? Like the way it feels?”

“Yes,” you breathed, gaining the courage to move your hips along with his guidance.

“Good girl, follow my lead. I’ve got you. Take what you need. I’m at your mercy.”

It was almost embarrassing how wet you were from just a few movements and the words spilling from your boyfriend’s mouth. You’d never heard him talk like this before, it was new and it was one of the hottest things you’d ever heard. The most you two had done was makeout, maybe some heavy touching but that had been it. This was a new step.

With his encouragement, you rocked against him a little faster, your arms anchoring around his neck for support. Seunghyun watched you, his eyes dark and intense. His cock twitched, he knew you could probably feel it, the hard outline brushing against your leg but he didn’t care. He wanted you to know the effect you had on him.

Your dress had now bunched up, Seunghyun’s hands luckily covering up any of your skin that might be showing. Not that anyone would see. You were both far secluded away from anyone else — the rest of the partygoers too consumed in their own business to care about what you were doing.

“Seunghyun,” you whimpered needily. He scratched his earlier thought — you whimpering his name like that was what he wanted to hear on repeat. His hips bucked up, trying to add more pressure for you.

“Look at you, fucking yourself against my thigh in the middle of a public place. My sweet, innocent girl. I bet you’re soaking right now, aren’t you? I bet you’re fuckin’ dripping, princess.” Seunghyun brought one of his hands up to tangle in your hair, pulling you in to crash his lips against yours. His tongue traced along your bottom lip, begging for entry. He bounced his leg up hard, causing you to gasp and he took that as his opportunity to stick his tongue inside your mouth. He kissed you like a man possessed, his other hand now moving from your hip, to slide up between your legs. He knew he was flying too close to the sun, maybe you weren’t ready for him to touch you like that but with the way you were grinding against him like your life depended on it, he figured he’d try,

“Can I?” He mumbled against your lips, almost panting — he had to ask for consent, he’d never do anything otherwise. He could see the hesitation in your eyes, the flicker of doubt. “I won’t do anything, baby, I just want to see how wet you are, show you how better it can feel.”

You nodded and he wasted no time. His fingers found your panties, pulling them to the side. His index finger swiped gently along your slit, sliding through it with ease thanks to how wet you were. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at the feeling, your breathy moan going straight to his aching cock. He was definitely going to have to excuse himself after this to take care of his little problem. He was so hard it was bordering on painful but your pleasure was his priority. This was new for you, a big step and he wanted you to know that forever and always, you were his priority.

He brought his finger up to his lips, tilting your head to look at him as he sucked on the digit, your sweet taste enveloping his taste buds. “Fuck, princess, I can’t wait for the day I can bury my head between your legs and taste your sweet, little pussy properly.”

He kissed you again so you could taste yourself on his lips. His hands found his way back to your hips, a mischievous glint in his eye when he pulled back. “Be a good girl and move against me just like I showed you now that your panties aren’t in the way.”

The way you obeyed him was immediate. It was the way he called you a good girl — something about it made you want to please him, to hear him praise you even more. Praise kink unlocked, maybe? You slid your hips against him again, the fabric of his jeans now rubbing against your bare pussy, the feeling causing you to moan louder than before. Seunghyun watched entranced, his eyes darting down to watch the wild way your hips were now bucking against him. He couldn’t help himself, his hands sliding back to squeeze your ass, pulling you against him harder. It was so tempting to give you a quick spank but you definitely weren’t ready for that yet.

“Seunghyun… I’m…” you gasped as you felt that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’d touched yourself before, you knew what an orgasm was but this felt more intense, like it was barreling towards you and you couldn’t stop it. You buried your head in his neck, hiding your face from him.

No, he wasn’t having any of that.

“Nuh-uh,” he said as he pulled your head away from his neck. God, you looked ravishing. Your cheeks tinted pink, eyes full of lust as your kiss swollen lips gasped and moaned just for him. “Does my good girl want to cum? That’s okay, baby. Cum for me. I want to see you fucking lose it.”

His deep, raspy voice saying those words as he watched you, made you lose it. Your body tensing, pussy clenching around nothing as your orgasm washed over you. “Fuck, Seunghyun.” Your needy moan of his name as you reached your peak, knowing he was the one that had got you there, almost made him bust a load in his pants. Almost.

“Good girl.” He peppered your face in kisses, his grip on your hips gentling. “You did so good for me.”

He finally let you hide your head in the crook of his neck, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing motion. Your voice was a mumble against his skin when you spoke. “I can’t believe I just did that, oh my God.”

Seunghyun chuckled breathlessly. “Neither can I but it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He shifted in place and that’s when you felt it finally, his hard length pressing tightly against the fabric of his jeans. You peered up to glanced down. He caught where you eyes were looking and shook his head, using his finger to tilt you back up to look at him. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. I just care about you. Did you like that?”

“Yeah. I liked it a lot. I liked the way you were talking to me.”

“You like dirty talk, huh? Let me make a mental note of it.”

“You’re the worst,” you rolled your eyes playfully, your fingers pulling your panties back in place, skimming over the wet patch on his jeans. “Oh. I’m sorry. I made a mess of your jeans.”

“I couldn’t give a shit. Nobody will notice anyway and if they do, I’ll just say I spilled wine on myself, no biggie,” he cupped your cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Whenever you want to do anything like that again, you just let me know and I’ll be more than happy to assist.”

“Let me make a mental note of that,” you mocked his words from earlier. He just smirked, suddenly standing, picking you up and placing you down where he’d just been sat. “Where you going?”

“I have something to take care of.”

You blushed furiously knowing exactly what he meant. He shot a wink your way. “Don’t worry, I’ll be thinking of you.”

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @loveesiren @fleabagspurplewife @gdinthehouseee @aizshallnotbefound

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 Where to find good XF fanfics

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[restinslices]

Believe Me

Gwayne Hightower X Female!Reader

Word Count: 2792

Summary: Gwayne bumps into an old flame and smut ensues (from his pov)

Content Warning: Smut (so minors dni), fingering, handjob, cheating, light hair pulling, light degrading and praising, vaginal sex, public sex (I hate this but we move on😭)

Gwayne Hightower was only human, and as a show of this, he had made plenty of mistakes in his lifetime. “It is not worth the stress to beat yourself over what could have been” he'd always remind himself. “What could've been if you chose the right card, woke up earlier, listened more, aimed a little to the left, ate breakfast…”. 

The list went on and on because humans make mistakes all the time. He had vowed to himself that he would never stress over these mistakes. What good would it do? The mistake was already made. 

That's the thought process he tried to keep as he made his way inside the Sept. He was not afraid of the gods deciding to punish him for the sins he was sure he had committed, or of the building crumbling down and burying him underneath. The current war going on wasn't even on his mind. 

What was on his mind was a singular person. And as he got closer and closer to the room he knew they'd be in, the thick fog covering their face in his memories started to move to the side. 

Further. 

Further. 

His steps began to falter when he finally saw them. When he finally saw you. 

You were sitting on the bench, back to him, candles aplenty in front of you. Just as he thought about turning around and leaving, you took off your cloak and set it next to you, revealing the open back to your dress. 

You were inviting him. Discarding your defenses and showing that you were open to being around him again. Or mayhaps he was delusional. Either way, he found himself sitting on the other side of you soon enough. 

“Is that really a dress appropriate for the Sept?” he tried to joke with you as he lit a candle. If it was a different time, you would've lightly shoved him and said something like “oh fuck off” while laughing. Unfortunately, that time had been long forgotten. 

You looked over at him at once, and he wondered if for a moment you thought all this was a dream. You looked him up and down, and must've realized this was all real. “Gwayne…” how could you say his name in such a delightful way? 

The surprise from your eyes soon fell, and instead it filled with resentment. “Gwayne” you said more lifeless. “Anyone is welcome here. A common whore could come, wearing hardly any clothes and she'd be welcomed”. 

“I'm sure common whores do lots of cumming”. 

You simply rolled your eyes at him and looked in front of you. “A jest, dear friend-”

“We are not friends”. 

He had known it, but fuck did it hurt to hear. It was said so coldly and cruel, like you wanted it to sting. It definitely had, though he wouldn't show it. 

“We have not talked in some time” he said with his eyes still trained on you. How could you sit there and be so beautiful? Even with a scowl and pinched eyebrows, you looked marvelous. “When I heard my sister had summoned you here as well, I admit I was a bit surprised”. 

“Why? Alicent is in need of a friend. And I am her friend”. 

Well you really knew how to rub something in, didn't you? “I tried writing to you-”

“Years too late” 

You snapped, eyes glancing over at him. Okay, mayhaps you were right. Mayhaps he should've wrote to you sooner, but he eventually did! That had to be worth something! “Why are you here?”. 

“I thought anyone was allowed here”

“It is the gods you should be speaking to. Not I”

“It is not the gods I crave” he spoke honestly. You simply scoffed in return and looked away again, causing him to sigh. “I should have wrote to you sooner, but I did eventually. And I am here now-”

“To do your knightly duties” you said dismissively. “Not to speak with me”. 

“I can do both!” his hand found your arm and he pulled you close to him, making your legs press against each other. He could hear how your breath hitched. He could see the way your chest rose and fell as a reaction to his touch. 

His fingers inched closer to your chest. “What are you-” you began to say, but the words got caught in your throat when he wrapped his fingers around the long necklace that fell in the long V neck of your dress, right in between your breasts. 

“You've kept this?”. 

Years ago, Gwayne gifted you a necklace with a large green pendant, and while the chain was completely different, the pendant was still the same. “Did the chain break?”. 

You shook your head. “No. My husband gave me a new chain. Said gold fit better”. 

He frowned. 

Your husband. Some boring guy with brown hair, brown eyes, patches in his beard and a voice that was far too high for a man. He had no real talents or skill, besides money and luck. That's how he landed you after all. 

“It is best for both of us that you do your praying and then leave. I imagine I will not be ready to leave anytime soon”. 

The moment his hand fell from your arm, he felt cold. He forced himself to look away from you and focus on the candle in front of him. So what was he to do now? Just let you go? Go off to war and accept that he'd likely never see you again? Accept you'd hate him forever?

“No” he answered himself out loud. “No. I am to just accept that your husband messed with a gift I gave you?”. 

“I beg your pardon?” You asked in disbelief. “That is what you are focusing on? That your gift was ruined?” You scoffed again and rubbed your temples. “Selfish as always. Nevermind to ask how I feel or how I have been. No. It is just stupid jokes and being offended. Did my gift put a dent in your pocket? Here then!”. You unclipped the necklace, grabbed his hand and shoved the necklace on his palm. “Take it!”. 

His chuckle afterwards was filled with bitterness. Here he was, trying to patch things up, and you kept making it difficult. “This resentment you hold towards me is ridiculous. I took too long to write to you after your marriage, but I'm here now. And this-” he set the necklace on the table. “This is a gift I gave to you”. 

“My husband gives me plenty of gifts. I do not need anything from you”. 

As if his gifts were anything special. Probably cheap and terrible material. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than some husband that probably couldn't even make you laugh the way Gwayne had. 

“Husband this. Husband that. Does shoving him in my face excite you?”. Maybe he had no right to be angry, but he was anyway. 

“I wouldn't be able to if you vied for my hand when you had the chance!” You snapped. For once, Gwayne had no response. No witty comeback or complaint. He just watched you as you realized what you said. You huffed, grabbed your cloak and got to your feet. “Good day Gwayne”. 

You managed to make it a few feet away before he finally spoke. “I should have”. Regret had gnawed at him for years now. He let you slip away. Why? Because he wasn't sure he could be committed. Did he love you? Yes. Was he a young man that wasn't fond of becoming a husband and a father? Also yes. 

“You have to understand,” he began as he rose to his feet. “Marriage was not something I wanted at the time”. 

“And you think I did?” You asked in disbelief. “Marriage was not something I wanted either. It was forced upon me. Marriage terrified me, but I knew that if I was married to you, marriage wouldn't be that bad. You were my best friend and lover. And what did you do, Gwayne?”. He couldn't make the answer leave his lips. The words felt like they were stuck in his throat and refused to go anywhere. “You left me” you answered for him. “And once I was married, you avoided me. Then years later you decided you wanted to speak again. What were you too busy doing? Drinking and fucking whores?”. 

That made him laugh. Drinking? Maybe a little. Fucking whores? It's not like he truly wanted to. It made time pass and got an orgasm out the way, but he didn't want painted whores. He wanted you to be under him. He wanted to feel your soft skin on his fingers. He wanted to hear his name pass your sweet lips over and over again until that was all he heard. 

“I made mistakes-”

“Mistakes?!”

“I made terrible choices” he corrected. “Awful ones. But you and I both know that I have always wanted and will always want you”. Those words seem to catch you off guard, which he assumed because you didn't push him away when his hands found their way to your hips. 

His face inched closer and closer to yours until your lips just barely brushed against each other. Unbeknownst to the both of you, your hearts beat as one in that moment. Both hearts erratic but somehow managing to be erratic together. 

“I want you desperately. And I know you want me…”. 

The remaining bit of space was broken and your lips finally met. Your lips responded to each other immediately and your arms wrapped around his neck. Finally… after so long you both were able to taste each other again. 

Reality came crashing down faster than he wanted it to. 

You shoved him away, making him stumble. You breathed heavily and wiped at your lips. “Won't change what happened” he said to your displeasure. 

“You are selfish” you spoke through gritted teeth. “You are an asshole” you shoved him again. “And a liar” another shove. 

Each insult you gave was followed by shove, and instead of feeling insulted, he felt something else. 

Desire. 

That desire is what led to him grabbing you, switching your positions and pushing you onto the table where no candles were. 

Your expression was full of shock, but not disgust or fear. Good. He never wanted to frighten you. What frightened him a little bit though, was his growing erection. Something that made no sense since all you had done recently was insult him. Gods, he was way more desperate than he realized. 

“Get all your insults out” he said as his thumb traced your lower lip, “tell me how much you hate me”. 

A request you had no problem fulfilling. 

“You are a vile man. Seducing a married woman in a Sept. Is there a line you're not willing to cross?”. 

There it was. Just like that. 

He began leaving open mouth kisses down your neck, eagerly awaiting what you'd say next. 

“You are a defiler full of sin”

“I am, aren't I?”. He held you in place as he bit and sucked at a particular spot on your neck, and a small smirk formed on his face when he heard you moan in response. “It seems you enjoy my sins” he taunted. 

“I hate you. No. I despise you. Even that word can't describe how I feel for you”. 

Gwayne untied your dress strap and unbuttoned the buttons in the front, allowing him to free your breasts. 

“I loathe you”. 

“I'm sure” his words dripped in sarcasm. Loathe him yet you allow him to undress you. Loathe him, yet you allowed him to fondle your breasts, then lick and suck at one of your nipples. That's how your little game continued. You'd throw insults at him in between your gasps, and he'd lick and suck harder at each breast, showing them both proper attention. His erection pressed against his trousers, it becoming almost painful. 

You lifted your leg up in response to him twisting your nipple, and your knee brushed right against his erection. He moaned around your breast before he even realized what had happened. His own eagerness being exposed only dawned on him when he felt your palm fully press against him. 

Your other hand pulled his head back by his hair, causing a sharp but welcomed pain to burn at his roots. “I always knew you were pathetic Gwayne, but this?”, a soft breath slipped past his lips when you pressed harder against him. “You like when I insult you?”. He nodded. No point in lying. Still though, he didn't just wanna hand you all the power in your game. 

He hiked the bottom of your dress up and kept eye contact with you as his fingers pushed your undergarments to the side and made contact with your soaked cunt for the first time tonight. He watched you try to keep a stone face, but you couldn't hide the sharp inhale you did. “Seems like you've enjoyed our little game too. What does that say about you?”. 

“What does it say about you that you like being called pathetic?”. 

Gwayne chuckled. He looked you over, watching as you tried not to react to his fingers sliding in between your folds. “You're marvelous…” he said almost as if in a dream. 

You yanked on his hair again and pushed his trousers down, freeing his erection. “Is this when I say you're disgusting?” You taunted. Your hand wrapped around him and shamefully he almost came from that minor touch alone. 

“If it pleases you”. 

His middle and ring finger slowly but surely made their way inside you, all while he whispered praises in your ear. 

“You're so pretty like this”

“You're taking my fingers so well”

“Open up for me. Just like that. Good girl”. 

Your head fell on his shoulder and his fell on yours. The Sept filled with both of your noises as you both continued to pleasure each other with your hands. It was clear that that wouldn't be enough. The question was just who would bend first. 

“I've got you” he whispered before placing a gentle kiss under your ear. You lifted your head off his shoulder to meet his eyes, and while there was still lust behind them, there was clearly something more. 

Longing. 

“Do you really?” You asked. 

He answered at once, “yes. I swear to you on all the gods in every religion that I'm never leaving you again”. 

You swiped at his hands and pulled him closer to you until his tip was lined up with your entrance. “And what about my husband?”. 

Damn your husband. He'd cause an “accident” to happen if he had to. He wouldn't let a man like him keep him away from the one person who truly wanted in this whole world. “I will deal with your husband and I swear you will never be able to get rid of me. Do you believe me?”. 

He asked his question as he began to push inside you. Your answer got stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded in response. Your nod wasn't enough for him, but he'd address that later. For now, he kept whispering encouraging words to you to soothe the stretching he knew you'd feel. He kept telling you that he had you, that you were okay, that you were safe with him and always would be. 

When you finally seemed adjusted, he spoke again. “Do you believe me?”. You nodded. “Out loud”. 

“I believe you”. 

That was all he needed hear. Once he got confirmation, his lips found yours and he moved inside you. Was this an all around terrible idea? Absolutely. Was there a chance of getting caught? Yes. But neither of you could care less about that. How could that possibly be at the forefront of your minds when you were finally feeling each other in the way you both craved?

You both enjoyed each other, ultimately hitting your peaks while you were still connected, mouths swallowing each sound the other made, and foreheads pressed against each other so you could catch your breath. 

His hands cupped your face and he pressed a softer kiss to your lips. Of course there was still that sexual desire there, but he wanted more than to just fuck and be rid of you. He wanted to hold you forever. He wanted to tell you about his tales of knighthood over dinner, and hold your hand as you went on walks in the garden. 

“I swear-”

“I believe you”. 

You believed him. That was all he needed. 

For you to believe him and for you to give him another chance.

Bitch I hate this shit but I haven’t posted in awhile soooooo here we are😭😭. Also the way I forgot about that necklace-

[dreamingbrownie]

Conclave fic recs

A non-exhaustive list of some pearls of this fandom.

Aldo/Thomas

Just Before Spring

The way Aldo went on about it, one would think St. Valentine had gone and gotten decapitated on his birthday specifically to spite him, several centuries in advance.

G, 738 words, oneshot. I loved this for how utterly beautifully written it is. This feels intimate and like you should't quite perceive Thomas and Aldo in their comfortable balance of affection and what-could-have-been, and I adore the characterization of Aldo in this one. The love Thomas holds for him pours off the screen in this one. Such a radiant little pearl of a story, this goes down like a mouthful of peach juice.

Know it's for the better

Bellini stumbles upon Lawrence having broken into His Holiness’ chambers. Title from Waiting Room - Phoebe Bridgers

M, 1,440 words. Touch-starved comfort, alternative scene from the movie as it says on the tin. Bones points for the tag "celibacy my ASS."

We're just two men as god has made us

Having to share a hotel room due to a booking mistake, Thomas and Aldo reconnect with the divine through a bond that is both holy and carnal.

E, 1,803 words, oneshot. This is really solid "there is just one bed" hotel room smut, friends to lovers, real good stuff.

Cardinal sins

Aldo Bellini, going through it, during the events of Conclave (with some ancient history thrown in) This is mostly unsexy, nearly 4k words of being in love with someone you can't have, and God and everyone you hate are also there.

T, 4,043 words, oneshot. What it says on the tin, such a good addition to canon.

The kids have a new take on faith

With every season of change comes regret for the chances not taken. Aldo Bellini and Thomas Lawrence confront their regrets.

E, 6k, oneshot. This is one of my favourite Aldo/Thomas actual smut fics because it's so tender and doesn't spend much time on the internalized homophobia which there are fantastic, but heartwrenching, painful depictions of aplenty in this fandom. Thomas and Aldo feel so lost but determined in this one, holding onto the only thing they're certain of: each other. And it feels incredibly realistic in its portrayal of middle-aged, ageing men learning each other's bodies for the first time ever.

A debt of wine and crucifixion

Here is the worst-kept secret of Vatican City: For nearly a millennium, Nicolò di Genova has dropped in on every single newly elected Pope to give him the shovel talk. Just to ensure none of them gets any funny ideas about Jerusalem again, or that's how it started out, at least. The Holy See has been closing up the holes in their security after him every time, but there is a new hotel built too close to the Leonine wall, there are turtles ambling around the Vestal Virgins' feet, and a new Holy Father from Mexico City sits the Papal throne. That Thomas Lawrence has quite literally signed up for this doesn't help the matter much.

T, 7.3k, oneshot. I humbly offer my own: A The old Guard x Conclave crossover in which Nicky gets introduced to the new Holy Trinity of the Curia, Aldo and Thomas are determinably Not Talking About Themselves, and Vincent still is their pillar of faith.

True Worship

Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God – that is true worship. Smut, that's it. Tedesco shows up at some point. But mostly it's longing, flirting, and you know...

E, 11,5k oneshot of Aldo/Thomas afterglow bliss ✨

I will love you so much that one day you will begin to love yourself

They ended up in the security office, where a spacious black leather couch had been repurposed as Aldo’s makeshift bed. The clothes he wore—likely from the club’s lost and found—didn’t fit him properly. His pants were too loose, and his shirt clung uncomfortably tight.

Not Rated, 11.7k of just hurt/comfort heavy angst with emphasis on the angst. Aldo's self-loathing and destructive behaviour in this is no joke, read with informed consent. Oneshot.

Concerto for Flourescent Lightbulb and Nespresso Machine

the only way to achieve something that sounds strange and divine is by using your hands - Volker Bertelmann on his score for Conclave 3 years after leaving the church and 3 weeks after getting his new hip, Thomas recieves an unexpected visitor.

G, 13,7k, oneshot. Such a beautiful, tender, wonderful story about the two of them leaving the Church to be together at last. They grow together quite accidentally in Denmark, slowly and then all at once. I adore this story so so much. The tag "[Stucky voice] we deserve a soft epilogue, my love" really rings true for this one.

Trinitas

“You’d like him, you know,” Thomas said. “I do like him,” Aldo said automatically, twirling the stem of his wine glass, looking into its deep red like it was a scrying mirror “I mean as a friend. If you spent more time with him. You have a lot in common.” “Do we use the same shampoo?” asked Aldo, raising an eyebrow. Thomas gave him a warning look but his mouth was tugging up. “You’re both stubborn,” he said bluntly.

M, 33.4k, happy ending, oneshot. The tags say this is Aldo/Thomas/Vincent, though it only gets there two thirds down, and up until that point, it's a classic, fantastic Aldo/Thomas slow burn. So tender and just the right mixture of genuine long friendship mixed with what-could-have-been which eventually does, of course, spill over. This had me giggling and cackling over their love confession with glee. Also I love Vincent cheerfully thrashing Aldo at chess in this. Everyone is so very in character and I adore that.

The Vincent/Thomas masterpieces:

Divine Revelations of Love

Following Tremblay's election, Thomas Lawrence is forced to resign and ends up in a refugee camp in Jordan, working side by side with Cardinal Vincent Benítez.

M, 27,6k, multi-chapter and finished. The holy grail, y'all. This fic is going to make you weep, sigh, clench your whole hand in the nearest scrap of fabric or possibly a pillow to scream into, it's going to teach you a thing or seven about refugee camps in Jordan, the disaster that is European dealings with the refugee crisis, the involvement of the UN and various Catholic missions and orders in the humanitarian aid system, and it is going to grip your heart and twist it around and backwards a couple of times before you notice it yourself. The ending hurts like a goddamn stab wound, so it's a good thing there's the follow-up story 21 syllables already being posted which is going to do the exact same things to you all over again. Bon appetite.

Encounters with Turtles

Under the pontificate of Innocent XIV, Thomas Lawrence attempts to further social reform while navigating a web of personal struggles. Caught between his troubling feelings about Vincent and a crisis besetting Aldo, Thomas is forced to reckon with the boundaries of friendship, love, and sexuality.

E, 33k, multi-chapter and finished.

The other holy grail of Vincent/Thomas fics. I'm being completely frank here, this fic deals the most realistic, brutal, honest portrayal of the Vatican's particular brand of homophobia I have seen in this fandom to date. It hurts. It really, really hurts; this is hard stuff to stomach. The way in which Aldo's internalized homophobia and all that self-hatred as a middle-aged gay man trapped in the Curia is portrayed feels utterly heartwrenching especially because it's true for so many queer religious people all around the world. And then Thomas falls in love with Vincent and stumbles down the exact same rabbithole of self-loathing, guilt, love, self-discovery, musings about sin and God and whether homosexuality is or is not a disease and all the ugly rest of it. I still haven't finished this as I'm stuck half-way down Chapter 5, because it's just incredibly heavy stuff. Dead Dove, do not eat, I'm so serious about this. But I do love Aldo's and Thomas' friendship in this one, as well as the characterization of everyone, especially and including the OCs.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 4

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: a striptease?, female masturbation, hints at incest/sexual abuse, mentions of killing, he fingers you at the dinner table, public humiliation aplenty

A/N: I made it exactly *checks clipboard* three parts without smut

The garment bag is composed of the finest fabric you’ve ever seen. Your pulse hammers at the thought of whatever might lay within — what could Feyd-Rautha have possibly chosen for you? You eye his usual all black garb.

Zipper cool to the touch, you glide it open, pushing aside the garment bag to reveal your present. Bile rises to your throat at the same time you feel a familiar swoop of desire in your stomach, a summation of your relationship with Feyd-Rautha so far.

The dress — if it could even be called that — shimmers seductively, black, and somehow inlaid with thousands of glittering beads. Two slim straps keep it secured, dangling, from the hanger. And there’s remarkably not much else to comment on: the straps descend daringly low, barely enough to cover your decency.

A belt encircles the middle of the dress loosely, and you can only imagine how it would withstand even the slightest of breezes without exposing you. You swallow, deliberating.

“Where is the rest?”

Feyd-Rautha reclines back in the chair. “Wife, why would I disguise your beauty with useless fabric? It would only pale in comparison.”

“I hardly believe this is acceptable dinner attire,” you point out, surprised at the coolness in your tone.

“It’s rude to refuse a gift,” Feyd-Rautha says. “Will you deny me the pleasures of gifting my wife for the first time?”

You bite your tongue to keep from lashing out. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to play.

Clearly this was his retaliation for your bold behavior, you just hadn’t expected it to come so swiftly after his arrival, or in the form of public humiliation. Normally you wouldn’t dare wear such an affront to fashion, or your sensibilities.

“Very well. I would be remiss to…deny you.” You look to Asha, who has presided over the entire interaction with wide eyes. With a smile, you say, “I would like you to undress me now.”

Her mouth opens, then snaps closed.

The upper level of the antechamber positions you higher than Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes have taken on the delighted glint of someone encountering a worthy opponent in the arena. Asha nervously obeys your command as you hold your arms out to your sides, allowing her to undo the difficult laces of your dress. The only sound in the room is the sound of it pooling at your feet.

“I hardly think my husband’s generous gift will allow for underclothes,” you laugh. Asha then begins removing your thin chemise from over your head. She tugs it up over her arms and your breasts slip from the fabric, leaving you entirely naked in the glow of the black sun.

Desire unfurls between your legs. You don’t even have to glance at Feyd-Rautha to know that he is fully captivated by your performance, at the sight of your naked form. In any other situation you might’ve been ashamed of your nudity; the curves you found unseemly, or the dimples of cellulite in the soft flesh of your thighs and ass.

But, beholden by the na-Baron, you were resplendent.

“The dress now, please,” you order Asha, voice breezy and carefree.

Feyd-Rautha’s gaze bores into you, sears your skin like its own personal brand. You loathe to admit that you’re actually enjoying this. Your thighs are slick with revel in your own cleverness, in wresting the control from the man determined to wield it over you.

Asha covers you with the dress, laying it gently over you — nipples hardened and skin flushed with self-admiration, in satisfaction of capturing Feyd-Rautha’s attention so wholly.

Asha moves to fasten the belt next but is interrupted. “Let me,” the na-Baron orders.

Which unspoken, is understood as: leave us. Your friend ducks her head and disappears from the antechamber. You silently thank her for closing the door behind her.

Feyd-Rautha approaches you slowly, measured in his movements. A predator reconsidering its prey.

So then why are you so eager for him to devour you?

He stands infuriatingly close to you without actually touching you, absurdly concerned with the so-called belt hanging at your waist. It vexes you that he refuses to meet your eyes, refuses to give you what you so ardently seek.

“I should strip this from you. Tear this dress from you with my teeth and bind your wrists,” he says, tugging at the belt, agonizingly composed, his breath fanning your face. “Show you exactly what you deserve for pulling a stunt like that.”

His fingers are deft as they fasten the belt. He doesn’t touch you once.

“Did you not like it?” You ask, breathless.

His proximity intoxicates you, takes you by the hand and leads you into a fathomless darkness. And yet he won’t look at you, won’t touch you, just turns simply on his heel of his boot and says over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

The smoldering shower water blasts between the blades of your shoulders, sluices over you and scathes your aching flesh. But it’s not enough, not a fit replacement for touch, for his touch.

Your fingers slip between your thighs and find your pleading cunt. A breathy noise escapes you, and you begin pumping your hand, no time for the attention you usually afford yourself — you’re desperate to rid yourself of this feeling, wash it away in the drain and pretend it never existed. Your release comes fast, insipid, and once your legs have stopped shaking with the effort of your touch, you wrench off the water.

And there you stand, cold and wet, cunt swollen and certainly not satisfied, but at least you can direct your thoughts from —

You slam your fist against the shower wall. Pain, leftover from Feyd-Rautha’s boot, quivers through you like a bow across the string of an instrument. How dare you let yourself become so entangled in him, in his game, in his inescapable command. You are a fool.

Quickly you towel yourself off and step back into the sorry excuse for a dress, warding off any traitorous thoughts belonging to Feyd-Rautha. You have no clue when dinner actually is but you won’t be caught shivering and spent. You apply a simple, dark makeup and leave your hair untouched, determined to set yourself separate from the rest of the Harkonnens in attendance.

And when the scents of food and the clatter of guests float through the antechamber, you take it upon yourself to join the others. You follow the din of a party, a sound you are accustomed to from your time on Caladan, and traipse into the Great Hall to find it already engaged.

The long table usually void of company is brimming with noblemen and women dressed in various shades of blacks and whites, and every single one of them turns and stares at your entrance.

Not even the strictest training can prevent the flood of embarrassment through you. It’s so prominent and all-encompassing that your entire body goes rigid with fear.

“Ah, the Lady Y/N,” a booming voice calls. “How lovely of you to join us at last.”

At the opposite end of the impossibly long Hall, the Baron lifts from the table on his suspensors and effectively stamps out any fleeting hope you had of going quietly into the night. Or perhaps dying on the spot. He hadn’t given you enough time to decide which.

“Come, take your place at my side so that you might meet your court and feast with them on this splendid occasion,” the Baron says.

Surprisingly, your limbs do work, and you somehow carry yourself past the leering eyes in your scanty dress and sit upon the only empty chair at the table. If you weren’t so completely mortified, you might’ve taken the time to glare daggers at the man beside you; Feyd-Rautha lounged regally at the right hand of the Baron. To your utter displeasure, he looked disgustingly wonderful in a dark tunic and pants, his lips reddened by the wine.

It looked a lot like blood.

“I apologize, your Baron, I had no intentions of causing a scene or demeaning your gracious invitation.”

The Baron eats in a ferocious manner best likened to a savage beast, wild and without abandon. Repulsion churns in your belly as you are forced to watch, doing your best to mask your horror as he gulps down his food in large, greedy mouthfuls. A smudge of sauce graces the corner of his unsightly mouth.

“There is no need for apologies, Lady Y/N, as long as it does not happen twice. No court is ever won over by a careless Baroness,” he says icily.

“Where were you?” Rabban asks next.

Rabban sits to the left of the Baron and across from you, fixing you with a glowering look. It’s not lost on you that he is already tormented by this, demoted to the less favorable side of the table in favor for his wicked brother, who replicates Rabban’s probing glare, no traces of awareness that he had been the exact reason for your tardiness.

“We met initially in the salon to give you time to appear. Tell us, where were you, wife? What demands did you have grander than this celebration of our upcoming union?”

Your molars might grind into dust by the end of the evening, if you survive it. You smile sweetly at him. “I suppose I was preoccupied with preparations, na-Baron. Your…gift is not easy to slip into alone.”

“However taxing, you look splendid,” the Baron says. He drains the rest of his goblet. One massive hand descends on Feyd-Rautha’s thigh, strangely intimate. “Nephew, will you fetch me more wine?”

Feyd-Rautha’s face storms over. “We have servants for that, Uncle. Besides, have Rabban do it for you. This banquet is for my benefit, after all, I should be allowed to enjoy it.”

The Baron studies him critically then, more sober than you thought possible. “Very well. Rabban?”

The mountainous man snatches the goblet from his uncle and vanishes to find a servant. You’re prompted to heap some of the food on your plate then, disconcerted by the lingering hand of the Baron and Feyd-Rautha’s obvious resentment.

Dinner passes without a hitch, your tardiness smoothed over by your status as the future Baroness. A small grace for such a tremendous burden.

You entertain the guests with stories of Arrakis and spice production, fielding their endless questions with as much charm and elegance as you can muster. And, frankly, it’s not as horribly daunting or tedious as you feared it to be.

The last course is coming to an end when a man strides up to the Baron with an expression of self-importance. He’s dressed similarly to the other Harkonnen guards but there’s something different about him — where the Harkonnens you know are arrogant about their strength, he hides it well. You immediately start to eavesdrop.

“The Emperor needs you for an urgent matter,” the strange man whispers into the Baron’s ear.

The Baron nods as if he’s been expecting this, and then without a word abandons his feast and glides after the man.

Feyd-Rautha had been surveying the party when you ask him, “What urgent matter?”

He sips his wine. “I don’t know.”

Ha, you think, he had been eavesdropping too. You frown. “He didn’t tell you?”

“My uncle does not tell me everything,” Feyd-Rautha replies. There’s a trace of anger in his voice, but it’s difficult to tell whether it’s pointed at you or the Baron.

Either way, this irritates you. You decide to provoke the beast. “What, like you don’t tell me when our engagement dinner is?”

Feyd-Rautha’s gaze cuts to you. “You’re upset.”

“Yes I’m upset,” you hiss. “I thought I warned you not to humiliate me again. Tonight was inexcusable, you filthy —”

“Ah, careful, wife. You must mind your words before our court. And my oafish brother.” He indicates Rabban with a slight incline of his head. You spot the older Harkonnen approaching with quite the entourage and you scowl. “Don’t make that face. Remember, this is a joyous occasion.”

“How could I forget?” You mutter miserably.

At your side, Feyd-Rautha is a study in beauty. Not in the classical sense, of course, but that of something devastatingly cruel and dangerous, the glint of a newly sharpened blade or the ocean during a storm. Breathtaking, in both senses. Unwittingly, you trace the slope of his brow, his handsome nose, the cushion of his plush lips, and you feel the familiar flicker of attraction.

“Where were you?” Feyd-Rautha asks without looking at you, still watching the party.

“Hm?” Did he know you were studying him? “What did you say?”

“I asked where you were. Before.”

“Oh.” There’s something in his voice that suggests that he knows exactly what you were doing. Your moment in the shower emerges unbidden in your mind, of your hand between your legs and his name in your mouth. You answer as flippant as possible, “I was waiting for you.”

Feyd-Rautha finally sets down his goblet. Rabban is taking his time returning, regaling his entourage with an undoubtedly riveting story, so the na-Baron must feel secure in your privacy.

“You forget that those are my quarters too, wife, and the walls are very thin.”

Shame creeps up your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, is that right?” Feyd-Rautha grabs the bottom of your chair and pulls you closer to him. Any outside observer would simply think you’re having a regular conversation, which you suppose is the point, but there’s nothing regular about the way he slides his hand across your thigh and dips down to your heat. “Then I didn’t hear you touching yourself, whimpering and pleading for me? For my fingers? My cock?”

“I thought I was —”

“Alone?” He clicks his tongue. “If you didn’t intend for me to hear, then should I not give you exactly what you were begging for?”

It’s only too easy for him to nudge your dress aside and acquaint himself with your cunt, slide his fingers along your swollen lips and tease your entrance. You inhale sharply, without permission. He takes that as an invitation to delve a finger into your slick cunt.

“Feyd —”

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

You swallow, throat working. Rabban is finishing his story, evident by his boisterous laugh and then beckoning his entourage to the table. Feyd-Rautha keeps one finger inside you, unmoving, a sensation unfolding within you that you certainly won’t be able to ignore.

The rest of his hand cups between your thighs, a reminder to you, as long as you yield to him.

“Just say the words, and I won’t,” Feyd-Rautha says, his lips on the shell of your ear.

You’re frozen in indecision. When Rabban rejoins you, you’re sure that Feyd-Rautha will revoke his teasing hand. But instead he rocks his palm against you and drives his finger, then another, deeper inside you with dizzying ferocity.

You grip the edges of the chair, the force of his fingers cleaving through you, invoking a wave of pleasure that ripples throughout your body. It takes everything in you not to cry out.

“Brother, you remember my friends,” Rabban says. His cheeks are reddened by the spice-laden alcohol and he is oblivious to what’s occurring underneath the table. “Uriens and Ze’ev.”

Feyd-Rautha says smoothly, “Of course.”

“Uriens, Ze’ev, this is the Lady Y/N,” Rabban introduces you. He indicates each friend in turn — Uriens, a man of notable stature but a blank gaze, and Ze’ev, slightly smaller and sporting a sneer.

You dip your head and hope it’s enough to count as a greeting. You don’t trust your voice, not with Feyd-Rautha’s ministrations. Your cunt pulses with each one, clamping down on him, even the slightest of withdrawals enough to ruin you. Fortunately for you, or not, Feyd-Rautha shows no interest in stopping, curling his fingers in and out of you with agonizing precision.

“We wanted to speak to you about tomorrow, actually,” Uriens says.

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes narrow. “What about it?”

“What —oh! What’s tomorrow?” You ask. As soon as you speak, Feyd-Rautha pushes another finger in to join the others, spurring your body to jerk in response. You suppress a shudder.

Uriens, Ze’ev, and Rabban look too intent to notice your falter. Uriens explains, albeit with less enthusiasm, “We want to partake.”

Feyd-Rautha’s jaw flexes. His pace slows as he considers this request, and it’s almost more torturous than his persistent thrusts.

“No,” he finally says.

Rabban’s face darkens with anger. “Why not?”

“Traditionally those who partake do so because they are interested in the hand of the wife.” His tone veers dangerously close to a growl. “Are you telling me that you wish to take her from me?”

Uriens eyes widen. “No, na-Baron, we —”

“We understand the ceremony is purely customary. We ask only for a chance to partake in the revelry,” Ze’ev cuts in.

“There is no killing,” Feyd-Rautha says.

Uriens and Ze’ev nod. “Yes, na-Baron.”

“Then I don’t see why you shouldn’t partake.”

You bite back a moan as Feyd-Rautha then resumes his ministrations. You ask, “What’s tomorrow?”

You’re impressed that you manage to keep your voice even.

The Harkonnens exchange glances as if they’re reluctant to answer you. The slight one, Ze’ev, says, “Dessid aperr. The Crucible.”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Feyd-Rautha says.

Your indignation overcomes your pleasure, and you glare at him. “It does if my hand in marriage is being fought over.”

“The Crucible is a ceremony dating back to Emperor Shakkad the Wise,” Uriens eagerly says, jumping to please you. “When a Harkonnnen of noble standing is to be wed, they will engage in a battle against the other noblemen for the hand of the bride. To ensure that the strongest bonds are forged.”

Feyd-Rautha pumps his hand violently against you, and you feel your orgasm building. You grip the chair even harder. “I would like to partake.”

“The brides are not permitted to watch,” Uriens says. Rabban and Ze’ev both glare at him.

“I don’t want to watch. I want to fight.”

“Absolutely not,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

“Why not?” You ask. You hope the breathy sound of your voice comes across as petulant and not aroused.

Rabban answers, “That’s how it’s always been.”

Feyd-Rautha glances at you. He must know that you’re close, can feel it in the way that you clamp around him. “Wife, is that what you want? Tell me.”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer.

He says, “Tell me that you want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe out, both of you aware of what he’s actually referencing.

More words form on your tongue but you’re unable to say it — your pleasure mounts as Feyd-Rautha buries his fingers inside you with swift finality and your orgasm seizes you. It’s white-hot and dazzling as it tears through you, walls contracting, his fingers stroking you to the end. A shudder racks through you.

Pulse hammering and your thighs trembling, Feyd-Rautha withdraws his fingers. He rises abruptly to his feet. Horror dawns on you as he then pushes his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. Without so much as glancing back at you, Feyd-Rautha says, “Very well. Don’t be late this time.”

You stare after him. The aftershocks of your orgasm rumble through you — you can’t believe that he just did that then left you to deal with the aftermath. Uriens and Ze’ev stare at you in equal parts confusion and shock, while Rabban sneers at you, seemingly more aware than you thought.

You clear your throat. “Well, that’s been settled.”

“Something has been settled,” Rabban replies. His expression is nearly impossible to read, but the comment makes your cheeks heat up.

“You hold considerable sway over the na-Baron,” Ze’ev says.

You stand, smoothing down your dress and trying to maintain some semblance of composure. It’s difficult when your thighs are still slick, the memory of his fingers imprinted in your mind.

“I will be the na-Baroness,” you remind Ze’ev. “I hold considerable sway over everyone here.”

And with that you leave without excusing yourself, feeling the burn of their gazes on your back. It’s suddenly too warm in the Great Hall for you, the sweaty, lingering bodies suffocating. You’re not quite sure where you’re going. Certainly not after Feyd-Rautha. Though you can’t stop the way that your heart skips hopefully when you feel a hand grab your arm.

“What are you doing?” Asha hisses, spinning you around. “The party isn’t over.”

Post-orgasm clarity is eluding you. You shake your head. “I know, but —”

“Also, what was that shit earlier?” Asha asks. She adjusts her hold on a tray laden with champagne glasses. “There was some weird tension in that room. Don’t involve me in your weird — whatever, with the na-Baron again. Do you hear me?”

You nod stupidly, although you’re not entirely sure it’s a promise you can make.

Asha studies you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “But I’m going to retire to my quarters. Can you cover for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Asha says, obviously not convinced.

You huff out a breath. “I’m going to need the rest if I’m participating in the Crucible tomorrow.”

Asha nearly drops the serving tray. “The what?”

“I’ve been invited,” you say, which is also a lie.

“What?” Asha presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “What is wrong with you, Y/N?”

To avoid her gaze, you take to scanning the party. You know perfectly well what’s wrong with you and you’re searching for his face even now, despite the fact that he’s the last person you want to see. You sigh. “I wish I could tell you.”

Part 5

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Not whilst Teddie's around (18+)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings:Fluff, Smut (but like the softest sweetest mushy-gushy kind) cock-waming, kissing, cuddling, horror movie mentions

Word count:1,705

writing this fic was an UPHILL BATTLE, so I'm sorry for the questionable quality, but it's finished at least.

Eddie Muson Masterlist // Main Masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

“Dude, I’m telling you, horror movies get chicks wetter than you can even imagine. Trust me.” Gareth swears downing the last few sips of his beer.

“Yeah right, like any girl in her right mind would let you come within a ten-foot radius of her, let alone get close enough to get all up in her ‘sex-o-sphere’” Jeff laughs incredulously at his friend.

It was the way that all Corroded Coffin jam sessions ended, with a few beers and typical guy talk.

“You know Cindy Nolan? Works down at the roller-rink? We’ve been hanging out, and I rented Friday The 13th the other night, let me tell you that that girl couldn’t get any closer to me if she tried.”

“Yeah right, you’re full of shit Emerson.” Brandon said, shoving his friend with a nudge of his elbow.

“No, no, come on now, let’s hear him out. Maybe you two girlfriend-less losers could learn a thing or two from him.” Eddie says, shushing Jeff and Brandon’s guffawing. Truthfully, Eddie himself was eager to hear what Gareth had to say. Not that he thought he needed any help with his love-life, far from it, actually. His relationship with you was perfect in his eyes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn a thing or two.

“So we're watching the movie right? and it gets to the real scary bit, the music's all tense and shit, and she's pressed up against me, tucking her face into my shirt, and that's when I make my move.” Gareth says, throwing up finger guns.

“Your move?” Eddie asks with a raised brow.

“Yeah, the ol’ ‘yawn-and-stretch’, I fake a yawn and then I stretch my arm around her shoulder. Then to really sell it, I hit her with the ‘don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary serial killer.’ spiel. From then on, she's practically eating out the palm of my hands. Horror movies, I'm telling you guys, are the way to go.”

Both Jeff and Brandon hold their hands up in defeat.

And all that was on Eddie’s mind was that he was definitely going to have to swing by Family video to check out their selection of horror movies.

You rounded your way into the living room with the freshly popped bowl of popcorn getting ready to settle next to Eddie under the throw blankets on the couch.

“So what movie did you pick up for tonight?” you asked, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

He flashes you the vhs cover, a jack-o-latern pumpkin with a knife. He gives you a wide and boyish smile as his deep brown eyes sparkle with a cheeky glint. Tonight was the night that he was going to put Gareth’s claim to the test. He had swung by Family Video right after band practice and slapped Halloween tape down on the counter, causing Steve to roll his eyes and let out an annoyed huff. Oh yeah, Eddie had his plan all figured out.

“Jamie Lee Curtis is an absolute force to be reckoned with in the movie.” he says, reaching over to steal a few pieces of popcorn out of your hand.

This is where your tastes in movies differed from Eddie’s. You were more John Hughes, where the laughs were aplenty and the guy got the girl, whilst Eddie was much more John Carpenter, where the screams were aplenty and the killer got their victim.

But despite horror movies not being totally your thing, you were willing to sit and watch if it made Eddie happy.

Snuggled up to Eddie, with the soft blankets keeping you both cosy, he pressed play on the movie.

You wish you could say that you weren't scared, but then you would be lying. Laurie Strode was certainly a much braver woman than you could ever be, because the very idea that Michael Myers was still on the loose sent a shiver down your spine in the worst way. It didn't matter how much you tried to reason with yourself that it was just a film, and that it wasn't real, the scared and uneasy feeling had your heart pounding against your chest as you tucked your face into Eddie's shirt. Hoping that hiding away in the familiar comfort of your boyfriend would go someway to quell the racing of your heart.

Eddie felt terrible. Scratch that, he felt worse than terrible. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world. As the tense music in the movie swelled, more and more he felt you shrink into yourself and tuck yourself away into his chest. You were scared and it was his fault. 

Flicking the remote at the tv to pause the film Eddie softly turns his attention to you.

“Hey, you know we don’t have to watch this if you don’t like it.” he says, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“But I know you like this film, so I thought we could watch it together.”

“Sweetheart, you've had your face hidden in my shirt for almost the past hour, it's okay if you're scared, I'm not going to be mad at you.” 

“I'm sorry Teddie, I just really don't like scary films.”

“Come on, nothing’s going to hurt you, not whilst Teddie’s around.” Eddie says, flicking the tv off and throwing the blankets off your bodies before taking your hand in his. “How about we head off to bed, where we can snuggled up and I can keep you safe in my arms.”

Cuddled into Eddie’s chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively, you feel his lips softly kiss the crown of your head. It’s safe, it’s comforting, it’s everything that you need right now, but somehow it still doesn’t feel like enough. 

Eddie feels you squirming in his hold and so he rubs his hand up and down your back in his best attempt to ease you.

“What’s going on with you, huh? You’re still scared about that movie?”

Wordlessly you nod your head, feeling so stupid for letting a fictional murderer frighten you like this.

“You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you right? I’d fight Michael Myers a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Just want to be close to you tonight.” you say softly, as you looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes.

“Yeah? You mean close to you like this?” he says softly as his hands began to wander underneath your oversized sleep-shirt. Underneath your shirt where your skin is soft to his touch. Soft and warm, and the sweet scent of your coconut body wash still lingers on your skin. 

“Wanna feel you, please..” You plead, your eyes almost sparkled in the cosily-lit bedroom. 

As if he could ever say no to you.

Reaching down between your closely pressed bodies he stroked a hand over himself, already half-hard, because truly it didn't take much to get him excited. Everything about you drove him wild, and just the intimacy of getting hold you close in his arms stirred a growing heat in the pit of his stomach. 

He works on taking his boxers off, whilst you work on sliding your panties down your legs and once there is nothing separating you from him he slides himself into you. Filling you slowly to just let you feel every inch of him. Eddie knew that you loved feeling him like this, loved the feel of him inside you. Two bodies moving together as one. Your leg hitched up around Eddie’s slim hips, with your heel pressing into his backside, urging him closer and closer to you. 

“This what you wanted, Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice rasps out as his lips kiss just below your ear, finding that steadily racing pulse point in your neck.  “Just wanted to be close to me, isn’t that right?”

You nod against Eddie’s chest, moaning softly when he shifted his hips ever so slightly.

Eddie manoeuvred around with you in his arms laying you down on the bed, caged safely underneath him. 

“You're so beautiful.” He smiles, brushing a stray hair from your face, his deep brown eyes so entirely focused on you. You're the centre of his universe, there's not a moment that he's not thinking about you. And there's no place he'd rather be than right here with you.

Slowly he rolls his hips into you with deep, steady strokes. Drawing back just enough until his tip remains, before sliding himself home into your heat.

Your breath is stolen from your lungs every time Eddie fills you. Playing your body in the perfectly precise way that only he knew how. 

Your nails leave little red half-moon crescents in the pale skin of his shoulders as you hold him close, for fear that if you didn’t you might float off into a universe. The calming warmth of Eddie’s skin on yours is the thing that always grounds you to reality. His touch feels like home.

His skilled fingers reach down between your closely pressed bodies to rub eager circles around your clit.

“Just want you to feel good, pretty girl.” his praises rumbled from the back of his throat, heavy with adoring desire.

 Your quiet whines turn into breathy moans with every roll of his hips, whilst his deep groans of pleasure are muffled into kisses pressed to the column of your throat.

“I’m close, Teddie..” you manage to get out between unsteady breaths.

“I know, pretty girl, I got you.” he kisses your lips sweetly. 

With a few more well-precisioned thrusts he takes you over the edge of pleasure, guiding you through your shuddering high.

And with you looking every inch the goddess of his dreams splayed out underneath him, squeezing him through your orgasm it didn’t take very much before Eddie was stilling his movements, spilling his release into you with a shuddering moan of his own.

He held himself on his forearms above you to brush a thumb over your flushed skin.

“I told you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m going to keep you safe. Always.”

And you believed him. Because if it was one thing you knew with certainty, it was that Eddie Munson was a man of his word.

@penguinsandpotterheads @sweetdreamjellybean

@mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel

@userchai @aphrogeneias @sidereustales

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hot As A Summer’s Eve (Rengoku x Black!F! Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x Black!Fem!Plus-Sized!Reader

Synopsis: In which our favorite sexy, fire-haired himbo Rengoku decides to confess his feelings to you, his favorite Demon Slayer Corp, and show you that he adores your body just for how it was made: by fucking you stupid in the woods at a summer festival.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), Older!Rengoku x Younger!Reader; Public Sex, Forest Sex, Crush Confession, Foreplay, Breeding Kink, Cumpie, Oral, Masturbation, Breast Worship, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Facefuck, Multiple Positions, Sex Against a Tree, Doggystyle, Almost Caught, Spanking, Mild Choking, MDom!Rengoku, fsub!Reader, Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: A thank you to @eevees-hobbies for trusting me to write this commission & post it publicly! I’m gonna start writing more Demon Slayer shit after this lol. I hope y’all enjoy! ❤️ -Jazz

**********

“Rengoku, I…I didn’t know you felt this way about me.”

You say this while standing in the cool, lush forest yards away from the glowing lights, cheery live music, and chatter of visitors coming from the summer festival that you’ve been looking forward to all week.

The highly-anticipated festival is thrown every year to celebrate the summer’s solstice where businesses set up vendors to make a profit, shaved ice and free sake shots are aplenty, and people wear kimonos and adobes to celebrate in full. Rengoku has been looking forward to it too.

But not for the flavored shaved ice, free sake, games to win goldish, live performances, or fireworks that are done at the end of the festival. He was only looking forward to it for a chance to spend time with you.

You, the beautiful and magnetic demon slayer that has been learning and training with him, the eight other Hashira members, and the other new members of the Demon Slayer Corps. You with your soft, curly black hair, smooth skin that he wishes to touch, bright smile, and luscious, beautiful body.

Truth be told, Rengoku doesn’t give a fuck about the festival. He wasn’t even going to go even though the rest of his group and the newest Demon Slayer Corps members were going. But when he found out you’d be in attendance, he rushed to iron his kimono for the occasion. The moment he saw you in your red kimono with its pink flowers, he knew he had to tell you how he felt finally.

And when he saw you laughing at something Tengen said, the flirty, cocky motherfucker, he definitely knew he had to act fast. He felt bad for having such negative thoughts about his fellow slayer. Tengen was always a great guy and an even greater guy! But there was something about seeing him flash his white smile and flirty eyes at pretty, plump little you while you slurped on your strawberry water ice.

Embarrassingly, Rengoku felt his cock stir beneath his kimono as he watched your lips and tongue stained red. He must’ve looked insane because Tanjiro asked if anything was wrong.

He can’t understand why he feels so deeply for you. He’s never felt this way about any woman, let alone a Demon Slayer Corp! Sure, he’s found women attractive, but the feelings you invoke in him are primal. Sexual. Personal. He finds himself going mad seeing you around other men or when you flash one of those pretty smiles his way.

He can’t quite put his finger on why you affect him the way you do. Maybe it’s the way your hair bounces when you walk or how it smells faintly of mangos whenever you’re near him. Maybe it’s how kind and sweet you are to everyone. Maybe it’s the way you always give your all when it comes to training and you don’t let your size stop you from doing what you want.

True, you are a bigger girl. “Chubby”, he’s heard you call yourself before. You need to wear a larger size for the Corp uniform, and your arms have an adorable jiggle to them, as do your thighs, and you have these chunky legs that he wants to see wrapped around his waist, and you’re just so perfect and soft and small to him.

Though you’d probably disagree with the small part, Rengoku doesn’t care. You’d be small to him no matter what size you are being that he is much bigger than you.

He is crazy over you! During the day, he watches you stretch during training sessions, your athletic sets tight on your plump body, or do your warm-ups, your voluptuous breasts jiggling enticingly in your sports bra. Even when you serve him his meals at supper with a bright smile or give him a “Good morning, Rengoku”, he is ready to jump you.

During the night, he is just as unhinged. He tosses, turns, and sweats in his sheets imagining you in them with him. His big hand fists his hard cock, pumping it vigorously at the salacious images of your thick thighs pinned under his hands as he bounces you up and down on his cock, groping your tits, stomach, and ass. You’d be so small underneath him, his big body taking over as he ruts into you and hopefully breeds you, taking you as his own.

He towers over you now, staring down into those big, brown, doe-like eyes of yours that twinkle like the stars above. Realizing he’s been staring at you without answering, Rengoku blushes and quickly tries to recover. “Uh…y-yes,” he replies, clearing his throat. “I felt that tonight was the night I should tell you: I…like you.”

He had told you this minutes before when he randomly asked you to go for a walk with him on the walking trails in the forest. You had agreed much to his shock and relief. You had placed a hand on his bicep, hard and big from years of training, as you walked through the forest darkened by night.

When you came to a clearing of pink flowers that matched the ones on your kimono, Rengoku finally confessed his year-long feelings to you, albeit sweating profusely and stammering. At first, when he confessed, you smiled your beautiful, blinding smile and said, “Oh, Ren, I like you too!” You placed a hand on his arm, making him shiver. “You’re a great fighter and an even greater friend.”

Rengoku can’t lie: he died inside hearing that. But he wasn’t the type to back down. You needed to know how he truly felt. So he elaborated: “No, no…I mean…in a romantic sense. I like you.”

Your smile had faded, replaced with an expression of confusion and surprise. You stand before him now, still looking confused and a little tense. “I-I’m sorry,” he says, feeling guilty and ashamed for making you feel some type of way. “Is this making you uncomfortable? I can sense the tension in your body. Please tell me I’m being too overbearing or if you don’t feel the same way!”

You stare down at your flip-flops sinking into the pink flowers before. “I didn’t say that,” you softly say. “I’m just…surprised is all. You’ve never really made it clear how you feel about me before. You never gave me signals or anything.” Rengoku cocks his head to the side like a lost puppy. “Signals?” he asks. “I’m not sure I follow.”

You look up at him standing a good head taller than you. “Y’know, like your hand lingering on my waist during training more than it should. Flirting. Compliments. Maybe asking me on a date.”

Rengoku blinks and his face flames up in embarrassment. You’re right! How could he tell you this now when he’s never made it known that he feels such a way about you? Tengen has no problem with it. Even Obanai, as shy and as reserved as he is, showed Mitsuri how he felt before they started officially dating.

Rengoku awkwardly rubs the back of his thick neck, right under his curtain of fiery orange and red hair like a lion’s mane. “Oh,” he chuckles bashfully. “I understand. Well, I didn’t want to come off as inappropriate or make you feel fearful of me. After all, I am your superior.”

You shrug to yourself, gnawing on your lush bottom lip. He stares at it a little too intently. “I guess so,” you say. “But that’s not stopping you from telling me how you feel now.” You give a little awkward, soft giggle that eases the tension somewhat.

Silence descends upon you for a few seconds, only filled by the distant sounds of the festival, a lone hooting owl, and crickets chirping in the night. He watches your face, noticing your frown and apprehensive eyes. “So…how do you feel about that?” he softly asks. “You don’t seem happy. Are you with one of the others? Maybe Tengen?”

You blink up at him, shocked. “Huh?!” you gasp, looking horrified at the idea. “No, no, the man already has three doting wives! I don’t wanna be one of them!” Rengoku breathes a sigh of relief. He would’ve probably killed himself if that were to happen.

“I’m just wondering if this is really real,” you admit. “Like maybe I’m dreaming or this is just a prank the others put you up to.” You look like you’re battling with yourself to admit this, still staring at the flowers.

Rengoku is confused by your confession. “What?” he asks, perplexed by such a statement. “Why would you think that?” You flush, playing with the tie to your kimono. “Well, b-because…” You pause, nibbling on that damn plump bottom lip again. He is quiet, patiently waiting for you to finish. When you look back up at him, you look so sad and broken that he wants to scoop you up and hold you.

“Because of my size,” you softly say. “My body. A man as handsome as you could get someone much smaller than me.” Rengoku takes a moment to process this, wondering what your size has to do with anything. “But you are small,” he laughs. “You’d be small to me at any size, Y/N. And beautiful at that.”

You look stunned by his compliment, but more than anything, you don’t look like you quite believe him. That’s when Rengoku realizes it: “Do you not like how you look?” He asks, wounded. How could you not see yourself as beautiful and as sexy as he does?

“No,” you sigh. “It’s not that. It’s just…well, men don’t exactly go for girls like me unless they just want me sexually. I’m not ever pursued romantically a-and…” You trail off, withering like a flower before him.

Rengoku is enraged. He wishes now he would’ve expressed to you how attractive he found you. He wants so desperately to tell you how he would stare at you while you trained or stretched, loving how tight your spandex shorts were on you. He may even tell you how he’d stroke himself at the thought of him taking down those shorts and fucking you, but not right now.

But right now, you do need reassurance. So he bends down and plucks one of the pink flowers before holding it between you. “You deserve to be pursued romantically every day,” he says. “You deserve to be courted not for selfish gain. You deserve to be cared for and taken care of for the beautiful, intelligent, sweet person that you are.”

He pauses, putting the flower behind your ear. He bites back a gasp at the softness of your hair as his fingers graze your curls. “And I’d like to be the man to do it,” he confesses. “I’m sorry it took me this long to say anything to you, but…I’d like to show you how I feel and have been feeling about you. If you’re okay with that.”

He stares down at you carefully, trying to see any kind of sign of a no in your pretty, round face. But when you look up at him with a shy smile and take one of his huge hands in your smaller ones, he knows that you feel the same as he does. “I’d like that, Rengoku,” you say barely above a whisper.

Rengoku cannot stop the smile that stretches across his face. Because you’re so short, he has to bend down to kiss you, but does it slowly, giving you time to change your mind and say no. But you don’t. In fact, you lean in too, moving up slightly on your tip toes to reach him. Then your eyes are closing, your mouth is parting, and your lips are on his.

You feel and taste better than he ever could’ve imagined. Your lips are pillowy soft, supple, and taste slightly of shaved strawberry-flavored ice. He knows you can taste the sake on his, but luckily not the bowls of miso ramen and other treats he consumed thanks to the mint leaves he chewed on earlier before he spirited you away.

A soft moan leaves your lips as your hands move to his chest, pressing against his hard pectorals. He feels his cock surge at the small sound and moves his hand to grab your waist. He doesn’t go any lower than that. Though you are driving him insane, he wants to be respectful of your body.

When you finally pull away, he is left in a daze and hard as a rock. That was so dreamy. Romantic even given the privacy and stars above. It’s the best kiss he’s ever had. “I’ve wanted that for so long,” he sighs. “Was it okay for you?” His hands move up to caress your back, making you shiver in delight.

“Yes,” you whisper and you lean up to kiss him again.

This one is more passionate and eager, yet still sweet, and knocks Rengoku off his feet. He can’t help but moan with you as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He wraps his arms tight around your waist, nearly picking you up off of the ground. Your bodies press flush together in the summer’s night, the only thing separating you being your clothes.

If the clothes were off, Rengoku doesn’t want to think about what would happen. And because he’s about a millisecond away from ripping off your kimono, he gently pulls himself away from you, both of you panting heavily. “We should probably head back now,” he shakily suggests. “The gang may be wondering where we—“

“No,” you protest. “Stay with me a little longer.” Though your eyes are shy, your hands grasp his biceps, keeping him grounded there. “I’ve wanted this too,” you confess, making Rengoku’s heart flutter. “I feel the same, Rengoku. I just didn’t want to tell you because—“

You don’t get a chance to finish because Rengoku’s big hands are grasping your cheeks and his lips are capturing yours in a mind-blowing, toe-curling kiss. You both feel fireworks explode in your head every time you touch. He pulls away and begins peppering your neck in kisses, slowly and sweetly. “I understand,” he breathlessly murmurs. “But it doesn’t matter now. Just show me how you feel now, Y/N.”

You softly moan, leaning your head back to expose your neck, allowing him to kiss every part of your skin. He goes lower, tracing his lips down to your chest and collarbones, right between that little sliver of your open kimono where he can see your cleavage. “Does that feel good?” He whispers. You nod, staring up at him in a daze.

He wants to make you feel even better. His body is hot and tingly for you, needing more of you. He swallows, struggling to form a coherent sentence due to his horny thoughts. “I want to show you more of how I feel. I…I want to…to—“

“Make love to me?” You finish, your smile bemused and seductive. “I want that too, Ren. I want out here, now, with you.” You run a hand up his chest, your fingers pressing against his skin.

“Out here?” He parrots, shocked. “But anyone could see us! We could be caught by one of the Corps or—“

“I don’t care,” you breathlessly protest. “I’ll be embarrassed about it later, but right now, I can’t wait. I’ve wanted you for so, so long!” You push yourself against him, giving him a feel of your hard nipples underneath your kimono. Your body wants him. You want him.

Rengoku cannot deny you even if he tried. “Lay down with me,” he whispers in his deep, velvety voice. You eagerly do so, lay down on your back in the pink flowers before. He lays beside you and begins kissing up your neck, his hands roaming over your body. “You’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’ve wanted you for so, so long. You have no idea.”

He looks at your face, his cock hardening at your eyes closed and your lush lips parted. “Yes,” you moan. “That feels so good, Rengoku.” With a pleasurable shiver, he toys with the tie holding your kimono together and pauses, looking at you. “May I?” You nod, helping him untie your kimono.

When the flaps finally fall open, his eyes widen at the heavenly sight in front of him: rolls, soft flesh, a jiggly tummy, thighs, and breasts. He practically moans at the sight of you. “Look at you, baby,” he coos. “You’re absolutely stunning.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Breathtaking.” His lips trail down to your neck to kiss your throat. “Sexy.” His tongue jets out to lick down to your breasts, much to your enjoyment. He takes one into his mouth and sucks on your hardened, brown nipple, rolling the little pebble around his tongue before popping it out of his mouth.

“Tasty,” he whispers. He smiles at your fit of giggles, your body jiggling under his hands. “You were fixin’ to say that,” you chuckle. “But so are you.” You lean in and give a salacious lick down his chest, coaxing him to take his kimono off from the waist up.

He moans at your hands and lips on him, touching, kissing, and licking up his muscles. While you do, he plays with your sweet, juicy tits, molding the pretty, heavy things in his hands and sucking on your nipples. When he lightly nibbles on one of them, you moan into the night, tilting your head back. “Right there,” you sigh.

“Where?” he teasingly asks. “Here?” He does it again but massages one of your tits as he does, stimulating you even further. At some point, you slide into his lap, causing you to straddle him and your panties to glide against his thigh. “Fuck, Ren!” you moan. Realizing how loud you are, you bite your lip. “Sorry. That just felt so good.”

Rengoku’s eyes flash with an inner fire only you can see at the sound of your sweet, delicious moans. “Don’t be sorry. It’s just us here, baby. You can be as loud as you want.” As he continues to coat your nipples in his spit and bites, you take his hands and put them on your ass as you grind into him shamelessly.

Rengoku can’t get enough of how free and liberated you are tonight. And just for him. He especially loves how soft your tits are and the heat he can feel pooling from between your legs. He stares up into your twinkling, brown eyes. “I want to taste more of you,” he pants. “May I do that?” Wordlessly, you nod, biting your lip and making him harder. “Stand up and lean against the tree. I’ll take it all from there.”

You do as he says and lean against a nearby tree, your body glistening in the silver moonlight. You look so ethereal and gorgeous that Rengoku nearly pulls his cock out and fucks you right against the tree! But not yet. Not until he pleases you first.

Minutes later, he does just that and has you pinned against the tree while he kneels in front of you, his tongue slurping at your cunt with one of your legs hooked over his shoulder. You pant and moan above him, your hands running through his long, fiery, spiked hair, pulling at strands when he gently sucks on your clit or swirls his tongue around your pussy.

You’re so vocal, unable to keep your voice down. “Oh, my God,” you moan. “Fuck, Rengoku, yes! Y-You’re so…oh…good!”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes tight due to the sheer pleasure he’s giving you. He can tell you love it from the way your pretty pussy is gushing into his mouth, giving him more and more of your honey.

He pulls away slightly to look up at you, his lips glistening with your juices. “It’s okay, baby,” he coos into your pussy. “Just let go. I’ve got you.” He dives back in, slurping and eating you as if it’s his last meal. You taste, smell, sound, and feel so damn good! How he’s wanted to do this for you for so long!

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he whimpers. “You’re so tasty here.” You’re the tastiest thing he’s ever consumed. He can feel his cock painfully aching underneath his kimono, leading him to slowly stroke himself as he eats you out. “Fuck!” You sob. “Please, R-Rengoku, don’t tease me!”

He can’t help it. He just loves how loud and slutty you sound whenever he slowly strokes up your slit to your rosebud. You sound so cute. So needy. He’s feeling needy too. That primal instinct to have you returns, overtaking him. “Need more,” he growls. “I need more of you, baby.”

Thinking with his dick instead of his brain, he takes your other leg and hooks it over his shoulder. Suddenly, your feet are dangling over his broad shoulders as he stands up, his hands securely under your ass and keeping you leaned against the tree. “Wait, wait!” you gasp, gripping his hair, your body tense with fear. “What are you—“

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I’ve got you. Just relax for me and don’t squirm too much.” He gives you a wink before diving into your pussy again, drinking your honey straight from the source.

All protests and fears are stolen away as you feel his tongue slide between your lips and inside you, your clit bumping against his nose. Your eyes roll back at the pleasure, the sight absolutely porn-worthy to Rengoku. “Oh, my God, yes,” you whine. “O-Oh, fuck, Ren, yes!”

Even as his neck starts to ache and his jaw tires, he doesn’t stop. He needs you to cum. He needs to make you feel good. When you begin to get louder and your pussy quivers, he can tell that you’re close and moves his jaw faster. “O-Oh, my God!” you sob. “Rengoku, I’m gonna cum! Oh, fuck yes, make me cum!”

His own need makes him insane, causing him to whimper into your pussy and say things he never would say. “Cum,” he begs. “I fucking need it. Give it to me, please.”

Hearing him beg so prettily makes you finally combust. “Oh, fuck!” you loudly sob as you cum around his tongue, that dam inside of you bursting open. Rengoku moans as you flood his mouth and taste buds with your cream, becoming drunk on your cum.

As you moan and babble above him, fisting his hair, he cleans you up, licking your thighs and pussy lips of all of your mess until you’re coated in just his spit.

When you finally come down from your high, you look down at him, grateful and adoringly so. “That was amazing,” you sigh, filling him with pride. “Now it’s your turn.”

He helps you down and switches places with you, so now he’s pinned against the wall, completely at your mercy. Minutes later, you find out just how delicious he is too when you’ve got his cock down your throat. And he finds out just how amazing your mouth is.

Your soft lips cushion around his shaft as you bop up and down on his cock, thick, girthy, and shaded tan. He blushed as you stared at it once he got his clothes off, standing naked before you like a living, breathing Adonis statue. “Your cock is so pretty, Rengoku,” you whispered, wrapping a hand around him.

You stared at your hand wrapped around his cock, your fingers only stretching around some of the base. You weren’t shocked that your big man also had a big cock. Rengoku, however, was a straight-up mess. He has faced the worst of demons in his lifetime yet he could hardly handle seeing such a pretty, plump thing on her knees with her pretty nails and skin contrasting against his pale complexion.

He can hardly handle you now, seeing his cock disappear down your throat, your cheeks hollow and your brown eyes staring up into his. Your wet tongue and soft lips feel like heaven, the closest he feels he’ll ever be to it, and he intends to enjoy it.

“That’s so nice,” he sighs. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

You pull off of him with a wet pop, letting his hard cock fall out of your mouth and slap against his lower stomach. “I hope so,” you giggle. “You’re so quiet.” He bites his lip, bashful. He was keeping it down in fear of others hearing him, but your mouth is so fucking good that he wants to growl, grunt, and scream about his pleasure to the listening skies.

Your hands sneak up his clenched abs and trembling body, caressing his stomach. “It’s okay,” you purr. “You can be loud too. Lemme hear you.” Then, with no hands, you wrap your lips around him again and deepthroat his cock, easing your throat back and forth.

Rengoku can hardly believe his eyes. How is such a beautiful creature such as yourself on his knees for him, throating his dick like this? A whimper leaves him and he begins to crumble, unable to hold himself back anymore. He wraps a hand in your hair, caressing your scalp as you bop your head. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Keep lookin’ up at me, gorgeous, please.”

You do so, giving him a look at the spit dripping from your lips and chin. It’s such a slutty, lewd look that has him throbbing and his balls clenching at the sight. You once again pop off of his cock and begin licking him up and down, even caressing his balls with your tongue.

“Is my mouth good, baby?” you teasingly ask. “Am I makin’ you feel good?”

Whimpers and groans leave Rengoku’s mouth as if a bottle has been opened and can’t be closed unless he cums. “Y-Yes!” he gasps. “So, so good!” Feeling your hot, wet tongue on his balls, filled up with cum for you, makes him want to bust all over your pretty face and body.

You pop his balls out of your mouth and lick up the underside of his dick. “You sound much better than my dreams,” you moan, taking a lick of his cock. You pause, quickly pumping his cock with your hand as you stare into his eyes. “Fuck my face, Ren. I want you to.”

You press a kiss to his head, making him flinch. “Please,” you whimper, batting those pretty lashes up at him. How can he possibly deny you?

Losing all control and restraint, Rengoku pushes you back down onto his cock and proceeds to fuck your face, thrusting his hips into your soft, wet hole. You gag and gargle around his dick, breathing through your nostrils in time with his thrusts. He can feel his mind going blank and his entire body clenching as his balls tighten, ready to empty themselves out of his cock and down your pretty, sloppy throat.

You help him, holding his hips and pushing yourself deeper so his cock hits the back of your throat. He loudly moans at the contact, not even caring if anyone from the festival hears. He can feel his end nearing. “Hah, hah, fuck, gorgeous!” he pants. “I-I think I’m gonna…you need to stop or I’ll…oh, fuck!”

He has no chance to fight it. With a loud, low groan of your name, he spills his seed into your mouth and down your throat. You moan eagerly as he fills your tastebuds with his warm, salty cum, flooding your tongue with the taste of him. You don’t move, instead licking up the rest of him and swallowing his nut. The sight of you taking him so well makes the orgasm last longer and he nearly passes out from the blissful feeling.

When he finally finishes, you pull off of him and lick your lips of his nut and your spit. “I’m sorry,” he sheepishly apologizes. “I couldn’t stop it.” You giggle cutely at him despite having done what you just did. “Don’t be sorry. I enjoyed it.” And he loves that you enjoyed it.

He holds a hand out to help you off of your knees. As you stand before him and wrap your arms around him, only one thing stops you from being flush against each other: his cock which has begun to grow hard again, standing at attention. You look down at the growing appendage and your eyes grow wide at the sight. “Oh!” you gasp. “Y-You’re still–”

“Yeah,” he sighs, subconsciously criticizing his dick. “I just can’t believe I really have you like this and I guess I’m just excited.”

Feeling your soft, plump body against him is more than he can take! He needs to see you underneath him, taking his cock, or bent over, your ass presented to him to spank and massage until he empties himself inside of you again.

But he wants you to want that too, so he presses a hand to your cheek to keep your eyes fixated on his. “If you don’t want to go any further, we don’t have to. It’s all up to you, sweetie.”

You press your cheek farther into his touch and then stand on your tiptoes to kiss him. Your soft lips make him grow harder. “I want to,” you murmur softly against his mouth. “We may have to keep quiet though.” He nods in understanding.

That doesn’t last for long though. Actually, that “quiet” shit goes straight out the window the minute Rengoku gets inside of you and has you pinned up against the tree while you sink down onto his cock. You are both unable to keep your voices down as your sobbing wet, tight pussy slides down on Rengoku’s thick, hard cock over and over again, somehow becoming more intense with each passing second.

“Fuck, Ren!” You moan into his ear. “You’re so…so…oh, fuck!” You wrap your arms and legs tight around him while he bounces you up and down on top of him, filling you up with dick again and again.

Rengoku can barely handle the feeling of your soft, curvy body against him, his big hands gripping your ass as he thrusts up into you. “I know,” he groans. “You feel so fuckin’ good, gorgeous. Fuck, I’m so sorry it took me so long to do this.”

But feeling your bodies, damp and sticky from the summer’s night, against each other and your cunt squeezing around him make it all worth it. “M-Me too!” You whimper sweetly to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt before.” You bury your face in his hair as you moan and whine, trying to keep your voice down as much as you can.

Rengoku laughs lightly as he fucks you against the tree, gripping you to him. “You sound so cute, baby,” he pants. “You love gettin’ fucked out in public like this, don’t you? Who would’ve thought such a great trainer would be such a little slut.”

Your pussy tightens at the vulgar word, leading him to fuck you slower, teasing you. His strokes are still deep and draw sobs and whines out of you that make him want to bust the fattest nut inside of you. To anyone who walked by, they’d see him—a big, tall man—fucking you—a beautiful, curvy woman with the heels of her feet in her man’s firm ass and her nails sinking into his shoulders.

After a few more strokes, Rengoku gently lowers you onto your feet. You look up at him, dazed and cock drunk. In his crimson eyes rimmed with gold, you see passion and lust flared within them. “Turn around,” he demands. “I need to see this gorgeous ass bounce when I cum again.”

He leans down to give you an open-mouthed kiss, swirling his tongue erotically with yours. When he pulls away, he presses a kiss to your earlobe. “And I want us to cum together,” he murmurs into your ear. “Can we do that, baby?” He takes a nibble of your earlobe, emitting a soft moan from you.

You grip his arms and sink your pretty, pink nails into them. “Please,” you whimper. He pulls away and bends his knees so he’s at eye level with you. “Please what, darling?” One of his big hands grips your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

You pull your lush bottom lip between your teeth and utter two little words that feel like a loaded gun to him: “Fuck me.”

It’s like Rengoku becomes a whole other person. Gone is the gold retriever, sunshiney man to see on a regular basis. The man in his place is lustful and demanding. And you love every minute of it, especially when he turns you around and bends you over, even gives your ass a smack. At the sound of your pleased moan, he does it again, the sharp sound of his hand connecting with your jiggling asscheek a symphony.

“Ready for me?” He softly asks, sliding his cock against your slit. You whimperingly beg him to just take you, your knees bent and hands braced against the tree. As soon as he slides back inside you, he can’t stop the moan that escapes him: “Fuuuuck.”

You let out a moan as well, feeling your pussy stretch around his thick cock as he slides in, his pelvis flush against your asscheeks. His strokes start off slow and deep, his hands gripping your juicy hips, his face buried in your hair as he whispers sweet, dirty nothings to you, like “You’re such a good girl” and “You look so perfect with my cock in you, darling”.

At the sound of your voice rising above the trees, he goes harder and faster, his big hands gripping your tits. Wet plap-plap sounds fill the air, mingling with your mindless babbling as Rengoku wears your pussy out: “Shit, Rengoku, yes, fuck me! Fuck me just like that, oh, oh!”

You begin to grind back into him, meeting his thrusts and causing him to sink even deeper inside of you. “Yes, gorgeous,” he praises you, laying a spank on your ass. “Fuck me back. Take me like you own me.”

You fuck each other, giving all the energy that you have in bringing each other pleasure. Rengoku can feel his balls tightening at the sight of your soft, round ass bouncing against him while you moan and whine. He’s so close! You are too and you make that known to him. “Oh, f-fuck, R-Ren,” you whimper. “I’m so close! Please don’t stop! Don’t—“

“Did you hear that?” A distant voice asks. “I think I heard it back there.” Tanjiro.

You and Rengoku share a look like you just heard a murder. He sounds like he’s at least five feet away from you.

“No, no, wait!” Zenistsu cries. “It could be a trap! You know the legends about spirits waking up during festival season!” He gasps. “Or what if it’s a demon?”

“If it is, we’ll kill it!” Inosuke bellows. “What’s the big deal, you big baby? We’ve fought off demons before!”

“Rengoku came out here, so he can’t be far,” Tanjiro says. There is the sound of footsteps and a twig snapping. “Uh, Rengoku-sama?” The young man calls. “Is that you?”

You look over your shoulder at Rengoku, terrified. “Don’t move,” he whispers. He clears his throat though still deep inside of you. “Uh, yes, Tanjiro!” He calls, keeping his voice steady and level. “It’s me! Why are you guys out here? Enjoy the festival!”

“Well, we were just wondering where you went,” Tanjiro explains. “It had been a while since you went on that walk with Y/N. We thought you guys got spirited away or were in trouble.”

“No, not we,” Insokue says with a scoff. “You two babies thought they were in trouble! I only came because Zenitsu was too much of a scaredy cat to go with you!”

Zenistu makes a noise between a whine and a scoff, offended. “That’s not true!” He protests. ”Why do you gotta always poke fun at me? It’s a forest! Anything bad can happen!”

The two begin to argue while Tanjiro desperately tries to stop them. “Guys, guys,” Rengoku firmly says, silencing them. “I’m fine! I just followed Y/N out to take her to gather some flowers. We’ll be back soon, so just head back to the festival.”

Your pussy clenches around him as his hand sneaks down to rub your clit, making him bite back a moan. “Are you sure?” Tanjiro asks.

“Absolutely!” he calls, his heart hammering against his chest. “Go and enjoy the festivities! We’ll be back before the fireworks!” He hears the three whisper amongst each other before finally, Tanjiro announces that they are heading back. ”We’ll save you a seat,” he says before his and the others’ footsteps descend.

Once their footsteps fade, Rengoku’s body relaxes. “They’re gone,” he announces and sighs in relief. “Thank goodness. I’m sorry about that.” He gently strokes your back, hoping to ease your body out of its fight-or-flight state.

Shockingly, you are still wet and still horny, looking back at him with the sexiest eyes he’s ever seen. “Don’t be sorry, baby,” you purr. “It wasn’t your fault. Just cum with me.”

You begin to toss your ass back into him, your pussy swallowing him up. “Please fill me up,” you beg. “I need it so badly.”

Rengoku, helpless to deny you and needing release, wraps a hand around your neck and gently squeezes. The way your lips form an O is an erotic sight, indeed. “You’re such a little slut, you know that?” He growls. “Such a good little girl for me.”

With his other hand, he grabs your hip and pistons himself into you again and again, plunging his cock into the wet depths of your soft pussy and flicking your needy clit at the same time.

It doesn’t take long for that button inside of you to flicker on and Rengoku feels your pussy tighten around him, squeezing him tighter than a vice.

“I’m cumming!” You sob. “Ren, I’m cumming! I’m…I’m…”

You don’t get a chance to finish because your pussy is spasming around his cock and cumming on it, dripping cream down to his balls. Your little body spasming in his hands and your loud moans cause him to cum too, triggered by all of you.

A low yet loud groan leaves Rengoku’s mouth as he empties his balls inside of, rope after rope of cum escaping his cock and into your womb. He grips you to him, afraid that you’ll vanish and he’ll never be able to get this moment again.

“Shit!” He hisses, pressing his face into your soft, sweet-smelling hair as he goes through the motions of his orgasm. ”Take it,” he growls. “Take it all. It’s fucking yours.” You gasp at the onslaught of warmth and wetness, feeling overloaded with cum.

You are absolutely full of him.

After a few more shallow thrusts and a feeble grab of your breast, Rengoku presses a kiss to your forehead and gently pulls out of you. The sight of his nut dripping down your pussy and thighs is damn near too much.

Together, you both lie down in the flowers side by side, Rengoku’s big, muscular body curled into yours. Legs tangled, fingers stroking, and lips touching each others’. You lay in the sweet afterglow, only the stars witness to what just transpired.

For a while, you lie in comfortable silence. And then you speak. “That was amazing,” you sigh. “You were so good.” You press your hand and cheek to his chest, feeling and listening to his thumbing heart.

Rengoku feels pride and joy swell within him. “So were you.” He takes your hand and presses several kisses to them. Once again, he holds you close, not wanting to lose this peaceful moment. But alas, everything good must come to an end.

The only thing that makes him happy is that you will get many more moments like this now that he knows how you feel.

He sighs, lamenting. “I don’t want to leave, but we should probably head back.” You nod in agreement, sharing one last kiss before you separate and rise to your feet.

You get dressed and fix your hair to make sure neither of you look like you just fucked in the woods. Rengoku watches you wobble slightly. “Can you walk?” he asks, concerned. You nod though you keep leaning against one of the trees.

He tuts, stalking over to you. “That won’t do.”

In one swift motion, he scoops you up and carries you bridal style away from the clearing. “Rengoku, no!” you squeal in protest. “I’m fine! I-I can walk! Put me down!”

But he doesn’t listen, gripping you tighter. ”Just enjoy the ride, honey,” he chuckles. “We’ll be back in no time to see the fireworks.” He gives you a wink and his laugh echoes among the trees as you flush embarrassingly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

When you and Rengoku make it back to the festival, the fireworks have already begun. He puts you down and you find the gang among the crowd. Mitsuri greets you first, yelling among the boom of the fireworks. “There you two are!” she shouts. “We thought you got lost! C’mon, the fireworks started and I’ve got the best seats.”

She grabs your hand and drags you over to her seat on the grass with Tengen’s wives. Speaking of Tengen, he comes up to Rengoku’s side with some shaved blue moon ice, a smirk playing on his lips.

“That was some walk,” he comments. “Guess you got her before I could, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at his fellow slayer and friend.

“That’s right,” Rengoku confidently says, raising his chin and smiling. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this, Tengen.”

Tengen just keeps smirking, ever so cocky. “How flashy of you,” he chuckles. “I guess my plans for a fourth wife have been ruined.”

Rengoku must look horrified and absolutely murderous because Tengen nearly doubles over cracking up. “I’m kidding!” he laughs. “I just wanted to see your face!”

He pats Rengoku on the back and leans in. “But you may wanna break this lightly to my girls,” he whispers. “They were looking forward to a fifth in our little family.”

Sure enough, the sister wives are doting over you, talking about how pretty you look in your kimono. Tengen gives Rengoku a wink before walking over to join his wives on the grass.

Shaking off his words, Rengoku joins you on the grass shortly after and watches the colorful beams explode in the night sky. “Isn’t it so pretty?” you dreamily sigh.

He turns to you, watching red, green, and pink illuminate your face. He slides his hand over to yours and interlaces your fingers. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is.”

THE END.

[edenspoem]

what do you imagine ellie smells like? which perfume/body wash/scent would she use? im curious!!

i'll cut this off based on product + natural scent causeee ideas aplenty! ౨ৎ MDNI implied smut

perfume/cologne— im gonna project just a tad and propose black ice cologne. it's my fav, plus the smell is attractively tantalizing. if my nose caught a whiff of ellie wearing that scent, ohh boy, i would be FAWKING on her. but besides personal projection, i'm catching a lingerance of anything fusing aromatic, dry woods, or soft oriental scents. like amber or leather, and i weirdly feel the scent of apples is something you'd be inhaling when going in for a hug. you're at her door, greeting her, and as soon as you nosedive that collarbone— forest of apples. a peculiar occurrence, ellie never dons a scent to mask her own, so what's the reason? you. oh my goddess, she definitely sprays a few clouds to her wrist and neck if crush!reader was coming to hang out at her place in jackson. pursues the act of impressing you— bluffing up her true appearance with the perfumes, the freshly ironed and tucked–in shirts, a pair of warm mahogany boots that aren't nearly as scuffed as her converse. literally doesn't need all that, I'll take her as she is. I bet she also applies way too much on accident the first few times, welling a sear to your nose and a lake to your waterline when you sniff. ackk.

natural scent— so steering off the beaten path of her smelling sweaty, in an attractive manner, i just know that girl reeks a vintage aroma. like a dad scent. naturally comes with wearing cast–offs from the pre–apocalypse age, but also because i hc ellie borrowing several pieces from joel's closet sometimes— in tandem with his jacket. hopping hurried feet back on that beaten path though, B.O. yeah, body odor can transmute into nose–curling pungency when baked beneath the sun or vigorously pushed to surface because of jolly little ring–a–round–the–rosies with blathering infected that refused to die during patrols or hustiling workdays, but normally? when that tang settles upon her skin by the lick of warmths gentle spirit, cuddled up in a blanket with you? ugh, a pheromone fest, piquant. has her dumbfounded when you nudge the wad of your nose in her neck, sniffing noises coming from you as you take that shit in greedy. she tchs low in her chest, the little jitter of her chuckle budging your shoulder, "y'gonna watch the movie ooorr sniff me out like a dog?" cooed she, meshing a snort afterward as her palm whole on the base of your spine lifted, pressing a new presence on your shoulder and piano–tapping her fingers, which shifts a reply out of you, "stop smelling so good, n'maybe i won't get distracted.." you enchant at the level of a whisper, spoken lacy with red, flirty ribbons for tone. a sigh leavens above your head first, then a sough of fabric below— and a zipper, "alright, as long as you don't distract me."

and that's how ellie got fingered while watching an 80s action movie.

[tetsunabouquet]

Hi! First of all, I'm so glad you still take requests! You're my favorite KnB writer, especially for Akashi stories! <3

In one of your headcanons you wrote that Akashi and his special other would have their little hideout moments. So, I have this little reader-chan in mind who, like Akashi, comes from a powerful family. Both Akashi and reader-chan have been arranged to marry someone they don’t love, but they’re secretly in love with each other. Because of their circumstances, they can only see each other in secret, so they’re essentially having an affair.

Now, for the hideout part, could you write a oneshot of their secret "meetings"? Something with a lot of softness, inculding soft smut, where they feel safe and cozy for this little moment where they're together. Basically a moment where they feel like the rest of the world doesn't matter.

Akashi hummed against the skin of your throat, the light of the rising sun tickling the inside of your family's cabin through the window. Though his arms kept you warmer still. The howling of wolves earlier had woken the two of you up, but you weren't scared of it. Your bravery was one of the many things Akashi loved about you. Many of the other rich girls were so pampered that none of them had grown a spine and would burst into tears at even the thought of adversary or danger as they were used to being protected and sheltered. Not you. You weren't a princess who was happy in the confines of a tower with bodyguard aplenty. No, you were the kind of young woman who frolicked around in the woods, looking for adventure even if it was as innocent as befriending a beaver and holding a conversation about how tough it must be to build a dam and if you could help. Besides, you knew you were safe inside and had snuggled up to Akashi with a relaxed expression. However, Akashi had a wonderful pleasant dream about you and not having to force himself to pretend otherwise and squash his feelings like he usually would have to when waking up next to his witch of a fianceé, had grabbed hold of you just as he dreamt of. Just having you in his arms, knowing you were actually there, had his heart perform loopings in his chest. "You're so lovely in the morning sun," came his sweet compliment and you smiled warmly. "Lovelier then you?" "Of course." He said, the red in his hair glowing even a more vibrant red in the light of dawn as he started suckling on your collarbone, relishing in the rare moment he was allowed to leave makrs on you when your own bethroted was away on a business trip for your father-in-law's company. "You're such a liar," you said breathlessly. Akashi chuckled against your collarbone before playfully biting down. You yelped and shivered under the administrations of his touch, the sensual caress of his hands on your hips. Truly, he knew exactly how to touch you and leave you speechless. He alwas seemed to know everything about you, but you knew this was because he cared for you. Unlike the pathetic manbaby your parents had set you up with. He was the definition of selfish and entitled incarnate. It's one of the reasons why your love for Akashi had only grown in the steps advancing to your wedding. He was everything you needed as well as wanted. Nothing could compete with the way Akashi made you drunk with a primal need and how your heart would explode afterwards when he smoothed down your hair and pressed a kiss on your nose. Just the thought of it, made you push at Akashi with all your strength who fell down the bed out of surprise as you climbed on top of your lover. You kissed him posessively, hating to think of the life the two of you were actually living, just wishing you could have more of this. That this sweet lie was your life. You could feel his rockhard member poking you from below and moaned against his lips. He chuckled against your lips. "You're so adorable when you're needy and trying to dominate me. It reminds me of a kitten trying to imitate a tiger." You pouted at him, to which he responded by peppering your cheeks with kisses. It felt a little ticklish and you giggled as you straddled his lap. "Really, so I'm adorable?" You asked as you playfully grinded your body against his, Akashi's bashful grin slipping into a blissful expression. "You're adorable and so much more, sweetheart," Akashi's whispered in your ear, his voice as soft and pleasant as silk. It made shiver run down your spine and you couldn't help but dig your fingers into his shoulders, drunk on the sweet sensation of his breath brushing your ear. "I wish I could stay wrapped in your arms forever" you whispered and Akashi kissed your temple tenderly. "I know, me too. " You sighed and kissed him, positioning your entrance above the tip of his cock. "Let's make the best of this, shall we?" You asked and your bodies connected as one as you sunk into his desire and love, always his love.

[kimberbohwrites]

Ok but think about Rolan with a non tiefling and being turned on by how soft and smooth their skin is. He’s so used to ridges that the sight of his partners chest, collarbones and shoulders turn him on 👀 he can’t help but trail kisses and bite them… just a thought 🫣

Thanks for your patience on this ask as I clear through and get organized in my inbox. I love where your head is at on this and to reward your patience, I have this for you which is a combination of your thoughts and some brain rot I currently have:

The Dance

754 Words Rolan x GN!Tav: Sweet, Romantic, Fluff, no smut

There really hadn't been time for celebration in the days and weeks following the fall of the Netherbrain and the defeat of the Absolute. Not on the scale there should have been. Tragedy and loss seemed to be everywhere and Sorcerous Sundries had been turned into something of an aid station for those in need. Tav and their friends had joined Rolan and his siblings to help. Having Tav around at all times was a blessing and a curse for him. Sure, they were a skilled healer, kind and patient to all, and a friend. But it was much harder for him to ignore the constant pull his heart felt toward Tav when they always seemed to be around. He'd never touched a human before -- not like that. They looked so soft that Rolan had the hardest time concentrating every time Tav was too close. His mind drifted away at the thought of what their skin might feel like under his touch, usually at the most inopportune times. From their few brushes in passing he knew their skin was cool and soft, like silk on an autumn day.

So lost was he in these thoughts that he failed to notice Tav's desperate return of his feelings. They had begun to lose hope until a few weeks after the final battle when things had finally begun to slow down for them. Alfira and Lakrissa had helped organize a celebration at the Elfsong tavern to thank everyone who had helped with the rebuilding. Rolan had been convinced to come by his meddling siblings, "Tav will be there," they mentioned in a sing-song tone until he'd cleaned himself up and followed them out the door of the Tower. The party was lively, with musicians and libations aplenty. Tav had been in the center of it all, dancing to the cheerful music with their friends and fellow revelers. Rolan had watched from the edge of things, content to sip his wine and work up the nerve to approach them. If only there was the right opportunity, he thought to himself. He found the opportunity toward the end of the night when the musicians needed to cool the atmosphere of the lively party, lest the Fist be discharged to break up the celebration. At the end of a tune which had filled the dance floor with bawdy dancers and cheers of applause, the musicians had chosen a slow love song to follow. A groan from many fell over the crowd at the sign that the night would be winding toward an end. The few with partners pulled them close on the dance floor but most people wandered off in search of drinks or company for the night. From his vantage point he had seen Tav's shoulders fall as the music turned slow and their companions all paired off on the dance floor. He saw the sad smile on their face as they began to walk away with the rest of the crowd, it was just like them to be happy for everyone around her even when she was sad. Rolan was moving before he even fully aware. Pushing off the wall and depositing his glass on a table as he passed it on his way to them. He intercepted them before they'd made it off the dance floor, taking their hand in his gently and pulling them back out with him. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of their hand in his, they looked at him questioningly -- a nervous smile painted on their face. "I didn't want you to be alone," He said softly as he pulled them into the embrace of a slow dance. He melted as he felt their head rest on his chest, at how they fit so perfectly together. "Thank you Rolan," He heard them murmur softly into his robes. He couldn't help but run his fingers along their soft arms and imagine how his lips would feel in their place. Every thought he'd ever had about how they'd feel in his arms was nothing in comparison to the reality before him. The sweet smell of honeysuckle in their hair, the cool perfection of Tav's buttery soft, smooth skin. Later he would work up the courage to kiss them, he knew it now for sure. He'd walk them home and if they were keen, kiss them breathless under the night sky. But for right now he was very content with them in his arms, swaying slowly on the dance floor.

[cantstoptheimagines]

Smutty Alphabet (Kassandra | Assassin’s Creed Odyssey)

Summary — Smutty Alphabet Prompts for Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed Odyssey!

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Nothing but smut, so tags aplenty!

Notes ➳ Word Count is 1,046. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). ➳ Based on these prompts by fairy-tail-babes.

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule

aftercare — what are they like after sex?

she’d never admit it, but she becomes quite soft and sentimental after being with you. conversations in hushed voices while she runs her warm hands over your bare skin, tucking you deep into her ribs in a fruitless effort to melt your bodies into one.

body part — what’s their favorite body part of theirs? of their partner’s?

she likes her arms the most — and why wouldn’t she? a lot of blood, sweat, and tears have gone into building those muscles. she loves how easily they allow her to pin you beneath her, how they frame your body as she sinks her teeth into your neck. she adores your eyes, especially after she’s made you cum more times that you can count. she loves the tired glaze that overtakes them as they droop with a sudden need for sleep. she can’t help but be satisfied with herself upon seeing how they sparkle with fresh tears, begging for her more, more, more.

cum — anything to do with cum.

she loves making you cum on her fingers. it gives her the chance to make you watch as she pulls her glistening digits out of your pussy before she presses them against her tongue and sucks them clean. then, as soon as she’s done, they’re shoved right back inside your tight entrance until you’re left shaking and crying in her arms.

dirty secret — pretty self explanatory. what’s a dirty secret of theirs?

she wants nothing more than to find an artist who would paint her a portrait of you. (with nothing on, of course.) however, she has yet to find a painter with enough talent to do your beauty justice.

experience — how experienced are they?

she has explored nearly every corner of the greek world, meeting people and helping those in need of a misthios. it’s basically a given that she’s had a few relationships prior to finding you. i’d say she’s pretty experienced in more ways than one.

favorite position — this goes without saying.

69. she loves having your dripping pussy right in her face while your tongue explores her folds. her fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, allowing her to hold you down while you eat each other out.

goofy — are they serious or humorous?

this one is a little difficult because while she’s a rather serious person, she also has an awkward streak. despite being a misthios who meets people from all walks of life, this woman has little to no social skills. therefore, things might get silly, but it’s not necessarily intentional.

hair — how well groomed are they?

like most women in ancient greece, her appearance is kept as neat as possible. everything is cleaned and trimmed regularly.

intimacy — how are they during sex?

she may be rough and tough on the outside, but kassandra is far from cruel. she lays kisses on your exposed collarbones, whispering your name with a smile on her face. she wants nothing more than to be close to you. deep down, it’s love she craves, and you’re always willing to provide.

jack off — masturbation headcanon.

she loves making you get off in front of her. she bites her lip and chuckles whenever you beg for help because you can’t cum without her anymore. she’s got you wrapped around her finger, literally and figuratively.

kink — one or more of their kinks.

she loves overpowering you. as i said before, she’s worked hard to build up her physique, so she’s constantly using it to her advantage. she enjoys grabbing and manhandling you into whatever position she wants, no matter the time or place.

location — favorite places to have sex.

as a traveler, she can’t afford to be picky, though she does have a particular interest in tossing you onto the ground next to campfires. what does it matter if someone sees?

motivation — what turns them on?

when you beg her for more, no matter how sweaty and exhausted you are. she could listen to those pleas forever.

no — something they wouldn’t do.

despite all her strength, i don’t think she’d hit or slap you. maybe an occasional spank, but nothing more than that.

oral — do they prefer giving or receiving?

it can go either way with her, but she often leans towards giving. she’s never been one to waste a good meal.

pace — are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?

whatever you prefer. if it’s her decision, though, expect to see stars as fucks you into oblivion.

quickie — their opinions on quickies.

she’s a fan, mostly because she’s always on the move. any chance she gets, she’s bringing her horse to a stop on a mountain path, yanking you off the saddle, and then having her way with you on a nearby patch of grass before the journey continues.

risk — are they down to experiment? do they take risks?

she’s always ready to try out new, pleasurable ideas. whether they come from your mind or hers, she doesn’t hesitate to implement them. as for taking risks? this is kassandra we’re talking about.

stamina — how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

as a misthios, she has a lot of stamina and endurance, so expect to be wrapped up in her for at least four or five rounds. the real question is, can you keep up?

toy — how do they feel about toys?

she prefers to be the only source of your pleasure. however, if you ask to bring an olisboi into the mix, she won’t deny your request.

unfair — do they like teasing their partner?

one hundred percent, no doubt about it. teasing is just another part of the whole ‘overpowering you’ kink she’s got going on. she mostly does this by edging you over and over until you’re sobbing uncontrollably into your pillow.

volume — how loud are they? what sounds do they make?

why would she be quiet when she could let everyone know she’s yours? she isn’t afraid to let other people know what’s going on behind closed doors. with your mouth delving into the space between her legs, she has no shame, tossing her head back with every moan that escapes her.

wild card — a random headcanon.

i feel like she’s into pussy inspections for some reason. like, she needs to see exactly how much you came, how messy you are, and if she needs to keep going.

x-ray — what’s going on under those clothes?

her pussy is literally gorgeous. it’s a nice shade of tan that glistens in the light whenever she’s wet. you can’t help but pull apart her folds to play with her clit whenever she spreads her legs for you.

yearning — how high is their sex drive?

most of the time, she enjoys having sex as a way to relieve stress and take a break from her life, in which danger seems to be never-ending. therefore, considering how busy she usually is, i’d say she has a pretty average sex drive (but only because she’s too distracted by nearly everyone in the greek world trying to murder her every day).

zzz — how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?

it takes her a while. she’s your protector and primary source of comfort, so she usually waits for you to fall asleep first. she wants to make sure you don’t need anything — like another round — before her dreams take over.

[youthereader]

Near Zero part 11.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.4k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; age gap (10+ years), infidelity, period-typical sexism, angst, smut

A/N: Though based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character. This is not intended to be historically accurate, merely written as entertainment. 

MASTERLIST

You cherish your heartache, because it is all yours. You nurture it with drink after drink at Christmas, and then again on New Year’s Eve. You hear people swear this is the last winter in Los Alamos, it has to be, you’re all so close—and yet you have no faith in returning to a world like the one before this.

You used to lurk on the outside of social circles but alcohol makes everything easier, except the mornings. Hungover most of the time, sometimes waking up in strange positions in your tiny quarters, you light a cigarette and try to shake the cobwebs off. You don’t want to feel anything that belongs to Robert Oppenheimer anymore. You no longer look him in the eye, and your reputation nosedived since John. You sense it among the housewives most of all, since they fall silent every time you go near them. Buying groceries becomes such a chore that you live off of soups and black coffee. Cigarettes aplenty, bottomless gin martinis and chalk dust is all you smell now.

Whenever you feel yourself sinking down into the malaise, you go find a colleague or two and play cards, listen to records, read the newspaper aloud and drink. If you’re lucky, it’s Lawrence or Feynman you sit with. They talk at you and you can feign interest in their wives’ lives, until they sense you’d rather speak of more masculine things like war.

The work is all-consuming, and so Robert comes and goes like a ghost. The martinis cure your insomnia temporarily.

The tension in the labs sharpens like a blade. Rumors circulate that some expect a test before spring is out, and the theoretical team has grown skeletal. There is so little joking now. Only numbers and chalkboards and the whine of equations that won’t solve themselves.

One afternoon, you spot Robert in the hallway, bent in conversation with a chemist whose name you forget. You do not mean to stop, but your legs betray you. You ask him for something banal—a file, a document, you don’t know—and he glances up like he’s surprised to see you still exist.

“Of course,” he says. Then, after a pause: “I trust your work’s been progressing.”

“It never stops,” you reply.

A brief nod. Then he says, more gently, “None of ours does.”

You walk away before he can say anything else, his voice lingering.

Late at night, the desert sky presses down with unbearable silence. You smoke at your table and wonder if the stars feel sorrowful for what’s coming. You think of what you’re building—not just a bomb, but a future, one that seems to have no place for softness, for doubt, for joy.

Feynman murmurs one afternoon, peering over your shoulder at a page of calcs, “Funny, isn’t it? We might be solving ourselves out of existence.”

You don’t disagree. You just keep writing.

As the finish line draws closer, you realize that none of you will emerge untouched. Not Robert, not yourself. The stain of this work—its weight—won’t wash off so easily.

In March, the engineers stop laughing altogether. Everyone walks faster, their eyes sunken, their greetings terse. There is a sense that the air is changing, thickening with something no one names. One morning, outside the laboratory steps, you notice a small bird frozen in place, its wings splayed awkwardly, feathers dusted in frost. Its head is tilted just so, as if it had turned to listen for something before it died. Its glassy eyes catch the light as you pass, and for a second, you could swear they follow you. You hesitate. Then you step around it, pretending you hadn't seen it at all.

Some nights, the calculations hum in your head long after the lamps are dimmed. You lie awake and think not of the bomb, but of what comes after. You wonder who will use it. On whom. What it will look like when a city disappears.

The closer you draw to the end, the less you can speak about it. You drink more. You laugh when someone makes a cruel joke about vaporized buildings. You pretend it’s funny. You pretend you’re still human.

And always, the desert waits, patient and wide and silent.

In April, the president dies. The news comes as a kind of psychic rupture—Roosevelt, the man whose war this had always been, is suddenly gone. The voice on the radio is low and grave, speaking of dignity and continuity, but you hear the fear between the lines. Truman, his successor, is unfamiliar to most. A man scarcely involved in the project at all. You gather at someone’s house to listen, the air heavy with smoke and confusion. No one speaks much beyond the obvious. You try not to say aloud what you’re all thinking.

Roosevelt had been the symbol of order, of momentum. He had sanctioned the impossible and wrapped it in national purpose. Without him, the chain of command feels looser, shakier. More fragile. What happens now to a machine set in motion by a dead man?

Then, almost before the silence settles, another headline arrives: Hitler is dead. Suicide in a bunker, they say. Berlin is crumbling, the Reich in ruins. The man whose shadow once justified every moral compromise, every sleepless night, has vanished like smoke.

A few weeks later, Germany surrenders. The war in Europe is over.

There are no parades in the high desert, no dancing in the streets. There’s a toast, a few murmured remarks, someone opens a bottle of bourbon. But no one looks proud. If anything, they look cornered. The victory that should have meant relief instead exposes something bleaker.

The purpose, once so clear, is blurring.

The bomb was built for a world that no longer exists. Hitler is dead. The Reich has fallen. The newspaper shows images of emaciated survivors at camps you cannot bear to look at for more than a few seconds. For a brief moment, you remember why you began. Why you justified it. But that moment passes.

Now the target has shifted. Japan is still fighting, yes—but it's clear to you, and to others, that this was never only about necessity. There’s something else at play. Power. Prestige. Legacy. You see it in the briefings, in the way the military men speak more freely now, assuming no one will challenge the plan. You hear it in the new vocabulary that circulates behind closed doors: demonstration, maximum effect, unconditional.

Oppenheimer speaks less than he used to. When he does, it's in abstractions. He has become careful, elegant with silence. You can’t decide whether he’s tormented or merely distant. You wonder if he’s made peace with it, or if he’s doing the same as the rest of you—watching the political tides swell and simply hoping not to drown.

The tension at Los Alamos shifts into something harder to name. No longer urgency, exactly. More like inevitability. You are all attached to a thing that will happen whether you want it to or not.

And beneath it all, a question persists, unanswered and unanswered again: What are we doing, if not building a monument to the end of reason?

One late afternoon, you find yourself at the Oppenheimer house. You didn’t mean to come. Somehow, your steps brought you here.

Kitty answers the door barefoot, a cigarette in one hand, her baby perched on her hip. She squints at you as though you’ve been summoned by the desert itself.

“You look like hell,” she says, and steps aside to let you in.

The house smells faintly of milk and tobacco. Papers are stacked on nearly every surface—scientific journals, half-read novels, government memos.

Kitty deposits the baby on a quilt on the floor. The girl is chubby and solemn, with her father’s eyes and her mother’s mouth. She gurgles at a dust mote in the sunlight, entirely unconcerned with war or weapons or history.

You sit on the sofa. Kitty hands you a glass—something brown and smoky—and sits opposite, tucking her legs underneath herself. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. That’s new, too.

“I heard about the German surrender,” she says finally. “Isn’t that supposed to mean something?”

You shrug. “Only that the target moved.”

She makes a sound like a laugh, but it isn't one. Then she asks, “Do you ever think about what you’ll do after all this?”

You consider lying, but it seems like wasted effort. “No.”

She studies you for a moment, and then looks at her daughter, who has discovered the pleasure of sucking her own fist. The baby coos.

“She won’t remember any of this,” Kitty says, almost to herself. “She’ll grow up in a world we made, but she won’t know how. Or why.”

That should sting, but it doesn’t. Not anymore. You watch the baby wiggle and twitch and sigh, and instead of envy, you feel something like distance. As though that life, the one with softness and future, is not yours, and never was. And that’s all right.

“She’s beautiful,” you say quietly.

Kitty doesn’t reply. But she leans back into the light, and for a second, you both just sit there, two women in a crumbling world, watching a child who has not yet learned what to fear.

You turn a corner and collide with him like fate.

Robert steps back, startled. He’s without a hat, cigarette between his fingers, coat unbuttoned like he’d stepped outside without thinking.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes.

You shrug. “Just walking.”

He nods. You both stand there, neither moving.

“I’ve seen you around,” he says. “You’ve been… out. With people.”

You say nothing.

He adds, “I don’t blame you.”

Another silence. Then: “But I hate it.”

You look at him. He looks tired, which isn’t new, but there’s something raw in the way he says it—plain and unguarded, not theatrical. He’s not trying to win you back. He’s just saying something true, maybe for the first time in months.

“You made your choice,” you say.

“I thought I had to.”

You study him. The wind picks up, but you stay still.

“I miss you,” he says.

Your voice is steady. “Is that meant to fix something?”

“No.”

He puts the cigarette to his mouth. Doesn’t light it. His hands shake, barely.

For a long second, neither of you speaks.

There’s no apology in him.

He says your name like a fact. Like a possession. Like something he’s still allowed to want.

And when you kiss him—again, harder this time—it’s less reunion than collision. His hands cup your face like he never lost the right, and your body arcs into his like instinct.

A voice breaks somewhere down the road—laughter, too close. You pull apart with a gasp. He watches you, flushed and unrepentant.

“Come with me,” you whisper, grabbing his hand.

You dart behind the post office, cross the utility lane behind the mess hall. The wind snaps at your coats. The sand crunches loud underfoot. He follows without a word, coat flapping open, tie askew. You don’t look at him—you can’t, not yet—but you feel his presence like static.

No one sees you.

The compound is hushed this late—no headlights, no piano, just the distant murmur of a generator and the occasional bark of a sergeant’s voice from the barracks. You keep to the edges of light. Around the corner of the machine shop, down behind the rows of sheds, until finally, your shack looms up in the dark.

You open the door and slip inside, heart hammering. He follows, ducking his head like it matters, like this isn't already treason.

You don’t turn on the light. You just breathe. Hard.

The room smells like smoke and winter and you. Your coat lands on the chair. His stays on.

“You can still leave,” you say, not turning around. “You probably should.”

But the door shuts behind him. You hear the lock catch.

When he steps forward, there’s no hesitation now. His hands find your waist. His mouth finds your neck. He presses against you like he’s staking a claim.

There’s nothing contrite in the way he moves. He touches you like he never stopped being allowed. Like marriage, loss, silence—none of it ever revoked this.

And maybe it didn’t.

He mouths at your throat, your collarbone. His hands slip beneath your shirt, finding heat. He’s rougher now, like the wait has frayed his control. You drag him down with you onto the bed, this narrow iron thing with a mattress barely wide enough for one kind of grief.

You undress him in pieces. The wool, the cotton, the fine white undershirt. He sheds history like a snake sloughing skin.

There’s no performance to the way he touches you. No script. Just heat and claim and memory. The curl of your name in his mouth. The hand braced beside your head. The other pressed low on your belly, fingers dragging up slowly, too slowly, like he means to take his time wrecking you.

“You were always mine,” he murmurs.

You could hit him. You could come undone.

You do both.

You grip his jaw and kiss him like you’re trying to hurt him, bite his lip and pull a curse from his throat. He laughs into your mouth, dizzy and dark. You grind down against him, make him lose rhythm. Make him beg.

He fucks you like he never let you go. Like he’s been living in the echo of this moment for years. It’s not gentle. It’s not tender.

But it’s true.

When you come, you bury your face in his shoulder. He doesn’t stop touching you. Not even then.

And when it’s over, when the air is cooling and your breaths slow, he stretches out beside you like he belongs there.

“This won’t save us,” he says eventually, voice quiet against your temple.

“No,” you say. “It won’t.”

But you still reach for him in the dark.

And he still lets you.

I love my morally grey Reader. I love her lack of remorse. I love that we are so, so, so back.

taglist: @indulgence-be-thy-name @mrsbond @amiets2 @dilfsffx (hmu if you'd like to be added)

[circle--of--confusion]

A collection of the Ghost fics I've written. ╰(*°▽°*)╯

So far it's all of my Dracopia X OC (Sarah) 'verse stories featuring my Terzo X OC (Amelia) fics in the same "world".

My other Fics not in this universe are here

Fics and musings about this AU can be found here

COPIA | PAPA IV 💙

The Cardinal and the Seamstress | Read on AO3 [12.5k words \ 5 parts]

Dracopia X OC [Sarah] The Cardinal is thrust into the spotlight and finds solace in Sarah, a newer clergy sewing assistant. [Fluff and sweetness!]

Wanna Bewitch You In The Moonlight | Read On AO3 [10.7k words]

Copia and Sarah keep getting interrupted before they can have sex for the first time as a couple. [Fluff and smut aplenty! ]

Pumpkin Carving | Read on AO3 [900+ words]

Ghostober prompt! Fun pumpkin carving escapades! [fluff]

Watching a Scary Movie | Read on AO3 [1.2k words]

Ghostober prompt: watching a scary movie [fluff] Copia finds an old horror romance online and they watch it together. Something seems familiar about the male lead...

It's Such a Ride | Read on AO3 [2.6k words]

Kinktober prompt "Quickie". [teasing, smut] What happened between Copia and Sarah when she mentioned to Amelia that the hall closet doesn't have good back support for having sex and how did they get there?

Most Ardently | Read on AO3 [1.4k words]

Summary: Copia and Sarah planned to have a picnic but their plans go topsy-turvy when a sudden downpour interrupts their day. when they rush home, they relax on the couch and watch a movie. The gentle caress of sleep washes over them soon into their movie. Ghostober prompt: falling asleep to the sounds of the rain [FLUFF]

Hunter's Moon | Read on AO3 [4.1k words]

Summary: Copia would say eternal life has been pretty good but it comes with one small issue. The caveat of the occasional bloodlust. Sarah softly brushes her fingers through his hair. “Tell me what’s on your mind, my love.” Copia nuzzles his head into her hand while she touches him. He decides then and there to tell her. “I need to hunt.” Ghost/kinktober prompt: primal/feral [smut, role play, fluff at the end]

Happy Halloween! | Read on AO3 [10k words / 2 parts]

Sarah and Copia celebrate Halloween with Terzo, Amelia, and Alex. she plans a "sexy" Copia costume and it goes better than she expects. Ghostober/Kinktober prompt: Aftercare/Freeplay. [Fluff, smut, aftercare]

While You Sleep | Read on AO3 [5.7k words]

Summary: Copia's nerves have him pent up and Sarah's new nightgown isn't helping. He has a secret that he can't tell her and the anxiety has caused his bloodlust to return once again. He asks Sarah to try something new, something while she sleeps, to release his energy and she obliges but when she wakes, Copia's nerves aren't settled. Sarah takes the reins and takes care of him. In the end his secret is revealed and they bask in their shared love. [Tags: consensual somno, smut, fluf, light angst]

First Christmases | Read on AO3 [3.5k words]

Summary: Copia and Sarah attend an outdoor market with the rest of the group to look for Christmas gifts. Copia meets an old friend and receives help on what to buy Sarah for Christmas. In the end, we see the reactions to what they got for each other. Prepare yourselves for cuteness, fluff, and first Christmases of hopefully many more! [Tags: fluff]

In Sickness And In Health | Read on AO3 [2.3k words]

Summary: Copia gets sick from a bad batch of blood and Sarah makes sure to take care of him. Copia makes sure to return the favor when Sarah comes down with an illness. [Tags: fluff, sickfic]

In Dreams I'm Always There | Read on AO3 [8.7k words]

Summary: Sarah has come home from work absolutely exhausted. She along with the rest of the studio have been working around the clock to finish Copia's papal costumes for his ascension and feeling guilty, Copia decides to treat Sarah to a pleasant evening when she falls asleep. The POVs switch between what Copia is doing in reality and what Sarah is dreaming. tags: smut, fluff, somnophilia, dual POV, dubcon, dreams, edging

Anniversaries and Affection | Read on AO3 [4.9k words]

Summary: It's Copia and Sarah's once year anniversary! They spend the day relaxing and kiss a lot. Tags: fluff, blood, suggestive dialogue

[more to come]

Misc/Drabbles ❤

Holiday Hijinks | Read on AO3 [13.3k words/4 chapters]

Summary: The Holidays are here! Amelia organizes a "Secret Satan" gift exchange for the gang and along the way we see the first Christmases of Copia and Sarah along with Terzo and Amelia. [fluff and first christmasses as a couple]

Drabbles [both pairings]

A few prompts I wanted to write. They're all pretty much fluff and rated teen+ with some suggestive dialogue here and there but nothing explicit

TERZO | PAPA III 💜

This Love is in Retrograde | Read on AO3 [20.3k words \ 2 parts]

Terzo X OC Amelia [dracopia 'verse] The backstory and then aftermath of their relationship. Part 1 details moments of when they got together all the way to the end when Amelia leaves him out of anxiety. Part 2 picks up right after "The cardinal and the Seamstress" where she can't take the separation anymore and confronts Terzo about his obvious flirting in front of her. It's almost like he's provoking her for some reason. [fluff, angst, love confessions, getting back together, smut, happy endings]

Wandering Hands | Read on AO3 [1k words]

Ghost/Kinktober prompt! "foreplay." [playful teasing]

Terzo's Not-So Hidden Secret | Read on AO3 [1.8k words]

Ghost/kinktober prompt: Hands [smut but its also a bit tender?] In the past, Terzo has mentioned his adoration for Amelia's hands. She always assumed he was just being flirty but recently, she suspects there may be something more to it. Amelia intends to get to the bottom of it.

Can You Hear the Thunder? | Read on AO3 [1.4k words]

Ghostober prompt: getting caught in the rain with a "rival". [pre-relationship, slight angst, heart to hearts] “What do you have against me?” Terzo’s voice cuts through the air. “Why do you hate me?” Amelia turns her body to look at him. She cringes at the slight squelch of her clothes and shoes as she moves. “I don’t hate you.”

You Are Here to Stay | Read on AO3 [2.8k words]

Terzo and Amelia come home from a double date, loose from good wine and food. They spend the rest of the evening reveling in each other's bodies. Ghostober prompt: tender sex [smut and fluff]

[more to come]

If you read these, I hope you enjoy them! :)

[lvmimis]

cw: minors dni. smut. fem!reader.

in retrospect, "i don't fuck men who've been around the block," was a pretty bold phrase to say upfront on a reluctant first date. judging satoru for his popularity without saying those specific words could have been aplenty, but you'd had the audacity to open your mouth and let vitriol fall out.

now your mouth is still open but no longer moving in shapes to reject the beautiful man in front of you, but rather stretched wide to accommodate as much length and girth as possible, lips gliding up and down along a spit-slickened shaft.

all you'd agreed to was dinner, in hopes of hitting two birds with one stone - getting a free meal and also having the satisfaction of getting his hopes up but not letting him bed you.

but here you are now on your knees, just hours after dinner, slurping him down like pasta of your own free will.

"fuck, you're so good at this."

his fingers twist in your hair, tugging gently to guide you up and down, but you bob your head obediently anyway, hands gripped tight around his muscled thighs. he's standing, and he groans as you take him as far down your throat as you possibly can. you like to think you can make him louder, bend his proud will to yours, but for now you're content to taste every bit of him, the salty-sweet desire leaking from his cock.

gojo's body tenses, abs contracting as he holds in his release as best he can as he doesn't dare cum down your throat on the first date. in fact, he pulls back, breathing in, letting the cum hit your chin and drip down the front of your dress. he's terrified for a moment of your reaction, but you offer him a satisfied smile, and he grins back devilishly.

without bothering with an additional exchange of words, he pulls you into his arms, and clothes come off seamlessly, shed like a worthless second skin, and you are laid on your back, pressed into your mattress that has yet to ever bear his weight or form. gojo smiles down at you, smirking but the smugness is lost in that first thrust in wipes the smile off his face, drawing his mouth open with shock and awe as he feels the warm pressure you surround him in, as he really gets a look of what you look like under him.

his for the taking. if not forever, at least for now.

he has never felt pleasure like this, and you'll show him he's in for more than he bargained for.

[sky-scribbles]

20 questions for fic writers

@mirthrilwren tagged me to answer some fic questions, tysm!

How many works do you have on ao3?

35!

What’s your total ao3 word count?

316,894! Gravity, and all that’s born within makes up more than a third of that, which is very funny to me.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Every single one is a Critical Role & Shadowgast fic, mostly written during the great CR hiatus of 2020 where I had nothing to do but think about Essek constantly:

Show me where my skin begins (Essek & Caleb’s relationship explored through touch)

I wake up more awake than I’ve ever been before (AU-ish thing where Essek dies and is revived fighting the Tombtakers)

I shine only with the light you gave me (The Nein attend a Dynasty ball)

Some truths are stubborn as gravity (soulmates au where you can’t lie to your soulmate)

My reasons for defying reason (Essek slowly realsing how much all his friends, and Caleb, love him)

Some of these fics aren't my favourites anymore, but I'm glad people are still enjoying them :')

What fandoms do you write for?

The majority have been CR fics, with a total of 21 – but there are also a handful of Dragon Age and Star Wars: The Old Republic fics, and one single BG3 fic.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Oh, I wish I could. Sadly with my eye condition, just writing and posting the things can be difficult, and I just… can’t, at the moment. I do miss being able to chat more with commenters, and show them how much I appreciate them.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely And let me speak to th’yet unknowing world – but that’s kind of a cheat, since it’s a retelling of the end of EXU: Calamity, which is a tragedy by definition. Honestly, I don’t tend to write angsty endings; call me a sap, but generally I like to round things off happily, or if not, hopefully. I’ve definitely had some bittersweet finales before, though; it’s my favourite emotion!

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It’s not the lightest ending, but the happiest ending has to be Gravity. Because… it took so much work to get there. Caleb and Essek end the fic with scars aplenty, but with so much growth behind them, and such a deep understanding of themselves and each other. They really did earn that happy ending.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not in a very long time – and even then, it was back in the old deviantart days when people would come onto your fics and yell ‘I hate [character x]’, rather than being about anything I wrote!

Do you write smut?

There’s a bit of a story here! I have quite recently started posting smut, though I’ve been writing it for a while longer. Thing is, for a long time, I had this irrational fear that if I ever posted smut, people wouldn’t believe I was really ace. (How my brain contrived to believe that when I saw ace writers posting excellent smut on the reg, I do not know.)

But writing a book about asexuality and aromanticism has really strengthened my confidence in being ace and aro whatever way I like. And I do, it turns out, really really enjoy it for all that good vulnerability. Honestly, what is sex for if not for helping characters realise they’re going to be loved and taken care of, even if they don’t feel they deserve it????

Do you write crossovers?

Generally no. Though there was the Inquisitor!Essek AU; I never wrote anything for it, but I did have fun discussing it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

Hae you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, but very very long ago. I’ve had a couple of podfics, too, which were lovely!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, though @talesofsymphoniac was an absolutely indispensable beta on Gravity and offered some wonderful insights <3 <3

What’s your all time favourite ship?

It’s got to be Shadowgast, hasn’t it? Redemption, themes of self-forgiveness, space magic, yearning… those wizards have got it all.

What’s the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

To be honest, I don’t think there’s one I want to finish – usually if I abandon a fic, it’s because the inspiration/motivation has run dry. But I do sometimes feel a fond pang for what I called ‘the Essek soup fic’, which could be summarised as ‘three scenes of Essek enjoying soup over his life, except it’s  a way to show his character growth and him slowly letting his friends into his life.’

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I’m pretty strong when it comes to character analysis. I really enjoy starting a fic, or a chapter, with a specific emotional problem a character needs to overcome, and spending the story digging into how that problem got there and what the character needs to do to start healing.

I’m also quite proud of my ability to take concepts that might come across as a bit silly on the surface, and commit to them wholeheartedly. And let me speak was a retelling of the end of Calamity in Shakesperian verse. The Rook!Blackwall and Inquisitor!Jowan AUs speak for themselves. The Source of Winter (Translated by Rook) was a weird little ‘found document’ fic that I knew only a handful of people would read.

Heck, even a big chunk of Gravity depended on me saying ‘there’s this robot. She’s a consecuted divine soul sorcerer with anxiety’ and trusting that I could convince readers that I wasn’t totally nuts. Given how much people seemed to love Quaera, I reckon I did ok :’)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Gotta say, villains are hard work for me. It’s why, for instance, Trent never showed up in my Shadowgast fics – I can really struggle to write bad guys without them feeling cartoonish to me. For Gravity, it took weeks of planning before I felt I had constructed Brashaar in a way that would be convincing. (Fortunately, I had some help making her, since she was designed from the start of be a foil for both Caleb and Essek, and that gave me a lot of framework to build on.)

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I don’t really feel qualified to offer opinion on this phenomenon in general, but I can say that for myself, I want it to have a purpose. It’s been coming up a bit lately (tho in the context of a conlang) with Taren in my Veilguard fics, because being a translator is a fundamental part of who they are. In the Taren fics I’ve written/am working on, speaking elvhen is often a tool to help them express themself, and part of their journey to connect with the culture that was stolen from them.

First fandom you wrote for?

Torchwood, back when I was very very tiny. God, that show was a weird mess, but it was a very fun weird mess.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Of course it’s Gravity, and all that’s born within. Three years of work, eighteen chapters, so many complex character arcs and dynamics to explore – and god, it was so, so worth it.

I shall tag my dear @choccy-zefirka, if you'd like to do this!