anoonesblog

[anoonesblog]

Lactating!reader w/ Simon "tits man" Riley

Laying down on your bed reading a book before your nightly pump when he comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

You pretend not to notice the cheeky tent he sports as he walks to his side of the bed and flops down next to you.

Your chest is leaky and uncomfortable, so you reach over to the night stand for the cordless pumps you can put in your maternity bra.

He looks like an oversized man baby with the way those big brown eyes stare up at you through thick lashes, almost like he's waiting for you to ask him for help.

As you lean back against the headboard, Simon wordlessly lays down on his side, head cradled in your hands while he helps you bare your chest to him.

He gives your skin chaste kisses and slow, sloppy licks. You feel the shivers like little lightning strikes to your core, and he closes his mouth around a puffy bud and sucks.

You hiss through your teeth, pain and relief and arousal coursing through your veins in an overwhelming cluster of feelings. Your arm cradles the back of his head to keep him there (as if he'd ever move) and your other hand cups his face, stroking up and down a strong, scarred cheek.

You can hear his quiet suckling and occasional swallow, your milk putting him into almost a trance like state. His hips giving aborted thrusts into the air, an (pathetic really) attempt to relieve the pressure from his groin.

The hand stroking his pretty face wanders down his neck and chest, slowly petting back and forth, lower and lower, until you're able to grip his length and give it a gentle squeeze before moving your hand in time with the thrust of his hips.

Simon starts to make noises, muffled slightly into the swell of your breast. As your hand speeds up, his abs flex and his thighs tremble, like he's finding it hard to remain still for you (he thinks he'd die if you stopped).

It's not long before his hips still from fucking into your fist, thick creamy seed spilling from his cock and down your hand/onto his abdomen.

He pulls away from you for a mere minute to flip you on your back and lick your soiled hand clean (the dirty bastard).

Now it's time for the other side as his cock gives a needy twitch between you.

[anoonesblog]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 50: Flashback

Summary: You face down a nightmare as your life starts to move forward.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,371 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, unsafe bondage practices (don't do this), restraints, creampies, overstimulation, squirting, angst, flashbacks, panic attack, PTSD, angst, emotions, language

A/N: Sorry this one took so long but it kicked my ass. Also sorry for the emotional roller coaster...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s cold, the wind strong enough to whip sand at your legs. You don’t care, treading through the soft white sand towards the darker, firmer wet sand. Your hands are shoved in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm, and the closer you get to the water, the more you can feel it in the air, whipping around you.

“Don’t go too far.” A voice carries on the wind, John treading behind you in the sand.

“Yes, dad.” You roll your eyes, ignoring him to walk along the water’s edge. The beach is empty, as would be expected on such a day. Even though spring is on the horizon, it’s still not nice enough weather for the tourists.

Even today was a lucky break from the rain that fell for two days straight leaving muddy puddles everywhere.

They only let you come down here because you know you’re leaving soon. The time has come, the inevitable return must happen now. There’s nothing keeping you here, and life has to move forward. As much as you’d prefer to stay here, the last thing you need is for your pack to get hit with AWOL or even desertion charges. Kate can only keep things this way for so long, and now that the threat is gone, the excuses are wearing thin. They’re still part of the military, they still have their duties.

John has to go back while he waits for his retirement to be processed. He has things he has to do to make that possible, things he has to close, things he has to pass on to Simon. Kyle has to wait until his gets filed and approved. And you have to go back with them until it’s over.

You’re not happy.

You won’t be happy until you can put that place behind you for good.

Arms wrap around you and you swing blindly, jumping with a yelp.

“Bloody hell, stop.”

You’re breathing heavily, heart thudding in your chest. You hadn’t even heard Simon approaching, too lost in your head again.

“Scared the shit out of me.” You breathe.

“Shouldn’t be so lost in your head.” He says. “You think we’d let some random person approach you?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Nice job, though. Swing first, ask questions later. Need to work on your swing again, though.” He says, keeping his arms around you. “Barely felt it.”

“Rude.” You pout, turning your gaze back to the sea.

“We’re heading back now. ‘S too cold out here. You’ll get sick.”

You don’t want to go. You’d stand out here all day if you could, watch the tide come and go. You know they wouldn’t let you. Too many risks.

“But I don’t want to.” You deepen your pout, blinking up at him with the best puppy-eyes you can give.

“But you have to.” He says, unwavered by your cuteness.

“No.” You say, crossing your arms and turning away from him.

“Yes.” He says, adjusting his hold on you.

You’re flying for a moment before you end up draped over his shoulder. “Hey!” You yell, trying to kick his stomach. “That’s not fair.”

“Should have listened.” He says, carrying you back through the sand.

You tilt your head up, staring back at the sea while it slowly gets further and further away. It might be your last chance to see it up close for a long time.

“Help me,” You plead as you pass by Johnny.

The Scot only shrugs. “Sorry, cannae help ye, kitten.”

You let out a frustrated groan but go limp on Simon’s shoulder, knowing there’s no changing their minds. You’re not sure you could even get them to convince Simon to let you down. You’re going to be carried back to the car whether you like it or not.

Some deep part of you enjoys it.

You’re self soothing.

That’s what you tell yourself as you mix the batter in the bowl. You’re waiting for the moment when John tells you to start packing, that you’re leaving this safe haven to return to the brutal world you left months ago that you hoped maybe by some small mercy you might be able to avoid going back to. How silly that thought was, though. Of course you’d wind up back there no matter what, even with John retiring.

You jump when hands close around your waist, squeezing gently as a body presses up against your back.

“That bowl insult you or somethin’?” Johnny breathes into your ear, lips brushing the skin. “Been staring at it like it placed a curse on ye.”

You shake your head, going back to mixing the batter. “No. Just got lost in thought.”

Johnny hums, pressing kisses to the skin behind your ear. “Anythin’ important?”

You could tell him the truth, but it will ruin the moment. He’s in a playful mood and the last thing you want is to bring him down. “No.” You say, pushing him back so you can turn in his arms, the bowl of batter in your hands. “Just thinking about how tasty these brownies will be.”

He stares down into the chocolate mixture in the bowl before looking back at you. “Mama’s recipe?”

“Of course.” You say, trying to wiggle out of his hold but he doesn’t let go.

“Bless.” He almost moans, slipping a finger into the batter before sticking it into his mouth. He does moan as he tastes the batter, slowly pulling his finger from his mouth to savor it. “Delicious even raw.”

You make a face, pulling the bowl out of his reach before he can dip his finger in again. “No eating it all before it gets baked.”

“C’mon just another taste.” He whines, trying to reach around you as you shove your hip into his stomach to push him away.

“You can have one once their done.” You slip around him, stepping up to the stove to dump the batter into the pan.

“Please let me lick the bowl.” He says, saddling up against your back again.

You roll your eyes, smoothing the batter before turning back to him. “Here.” You reach into the bowl, gathering some of the leftover batter onto your finger before wiping it on his nose.

He goes crosseyed as he stares at it, taking a step back. “That’s not fair.”

“You wanted some.” You hum, putting the brownie pan into the oven before setting the bowl in the sink.

“What are you two getting up to?” Kyle asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Getting harassed for brownie batter.” You say, filling up the bowl with water so he can’t steal anymore.

“’M not harassing her.” Johnny says, gathering some of the batter on his nose onto his finger.

Kyle raises a brow, staring at him. “Right.” He takes a step forward, crowding into Johnny’s space. “Here.” He grabs Johnny’s jaw, fingers dimpling into his cheeks as he holds him still. Kyle leans in, licking the rest of the batter off his nose.

Your lips fall open as you watch them, warmth starting to pool in your stomach as Kyle cleans the batter off Johnny’s face. “Fuck…” You breathe, watching as Kyle leans in, giving Johnny a soft kiss before releasing him.

“Think she liked tha’.” Johnny breathes, still staring at Kyle.

Kyle inhales deeply, his lips twisting up in a smirk. “Think she did.” He steps closer to Johnny, putting his hands on his waist. “Should put you on your knees right here you needy whore.”

Johnny lets out a deep groan, your face starting to get hot as you watch them.

“Look at you.” Kyle groans, his hand pressing against the front of Johnny’s pants. “Already so worked up.”

“’S not fair, I havenae gotten any yet.” Johnny whines, pushing his hips up against Kyle’s hand.

“You just have to be patient.” Kyle scolds him.

“Fuck being patient.” Johnny growls, turning on you.

He crowds you back into the counter, looming over you. You can smell the sweet chocolate on his breath as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. He hums, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before he kisses you hard, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, his hands finding your hips to lift you onto the counter. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as you can. You can feel his bulge pressed right up against the seam of your jeans from this angle, his hips starting to rock slowly against yours. He’s desperate for any friction he can get, whining needily into your mouth.

“Fuck…” Kyle groans, stepping up behind Johnny, pressing his chest against his back.

Johnny’s hands slide down your sides until they reach the waistband of your jeans. “Of all days tae wear jeans.” Johnny groans, fumbling with the button.

You bat his hands away, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down. He wastes no time, batting your hands away this time, sinking one of them into your pants. You moan against his lips as his fingers push against your folds, already slick with arousal. He nips at your bottom lip as Kyle’s hand flattens against the bulge in his pants, letting out a quiet moan as his hips press into the other man’s hand.

He wastes no time sinking two of his fingers into you, a moan slipping out at the stretch. His fingers press deep into you, your hips shifting to push against his hand.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Johnny groans, his own hips rocking against Kyle’s hand.

A moan leaves your lips as Johnny’s fingers curl inside of you, pushing up against that spot. Your hips jerk, sliding closer to the edge of the counter to give him more room. His fingers move inside of you, thrusting in and out as his palm pushes up against your clit. Pleasure is blooming in your abdomen, racing outwards to your fingers and toes as Johnny moans against your lips.

You could cum just like this, and you might have, had there not been an interruption.

“Can’t leave you three alone for five minutes.” Simon’s deep voice ruins the moment.

Kyle backs away from Johnny, adjusting his own pants. Johnny lets out a whine, fingers still stuffed inside of you.

“Right where we make food, too.” Simon sighs, tugging Johnny away from you. You let out a whine as his fingers are tugged from your pussy.

There’s a bulge in the front of Johnny’s jeans, clearly evident through the thick fabric. Simon lifts Johnny’s hand to his face, his fingers shiny with your arousal. He sucks the digits into his mouth, Johnny nearly crumpling to the floor.

Simon hums appreciatively, licking Johnny’s fingers clean before releasing his beta. He approaches you, looming over you as you sit on the counter. You stare up at him with innocent eyes, trying to read his face, but once again he’s an emotionless mask. His hands grip your hips, lifting you down off the counter.

“Don’t want the brownies to burn.” He murmurs, zipping and buttoning your jeans for you.

“They wouldn’t have burned.” You pout, staring up at him.

“You really think Johnny could have stopped himself at a quick fingering?” Simon tilts his head.

“No.” You say quickly. He’s been chomping at the bit for a chance to get at you these last couple days. You’re certain if Simon hadn’t interrupted you’d be bent over the counter with your jeans around your ankles.

“Finish the brownies first.” Simon says, leaning down to kiss you.

“Yes, sir.” You murmur against his lips.

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his scent starts to thicken in the air.

“Little shit.”

It’s quiet in the cottage. John, Kyle, and Johnny are upstairs doing lord knows what, and Simon is on the couch across from you. Both of you are reading, happily sitting in silence aside from the occasional pop and crackle from the fire. It’s nice, this brief moment of quiet and stillness. The cottage has started to feel small and overwhelming, alive with energy all day. Not that it hasn’t been that way for a while, but perhaps it’s just your brain looking for a way to cope with the reality that you’ll be leaving soon. Looking for some negative to attach to this safe space.

Footsteps thud down the stairs, your eyes glancing up over your book to find Johnny hurrying into the living area. He beelines for you, pulling the book out of your hands.

“Hey!” You complain, reaching for it but he’s faster, tossing it on the coffee table before bending down.

Suddenly you’re in the air, Johnny’s arms wrapped around you as he hefts you over his broad shoulder. You cling to his shirt as he adjusts you, his hand patting your ass.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” You ask, staring at Simon as Johnny turns.

Simon simply smirks, watching Johnny as he heads for your room.

“Don’t break her!” Is all Simon says, giving you a little wave before he disappears around the door frame.

You land on your back on the bed, bouncing just a little as Johnny dumps you there. He flicks on the lamp after closing the door, before moving to stand in front of you. You lift yourself up onto your elbows, eyes trailing his body. He’s hard, the bulge evident as it pushes against his jeans. Your eyes trail further upward until you’re staring at his face, his eyes dark and hooded as they stare down at you.

“Finally.” He says, his hands dropping to your thighs. “I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“I know.” You say, your stomach clenching in excitement. You’re going to be tired tomorrow but that’s alright. You’ve got nothing better to do besides sleep.

“Much as I don’t want to,” His hands squeeze your thighs. “I’m gonnae take my time.”

A shiver runs down your spine. It’s a promise. You know he’s telling the truth. Johnny doesn’t play when it comes to sex.

His hands trail up your legs until they’re teasing the bottom of your shorts. He plays with the fabric there for a moment before sliding his hands higher to your waist. Your toes curl in anticipation as he dips his fingers beneath the waistband. Goosebumps break out across your skin as his warm fingers slide higher under your shirt, trailing up over your ribs to your breasts.

He groans as his fingers brush the undersides of your breasts. “No bra?”

“No point in one,” you breathe, nipples hardening in anticipation.

He breathes out a curse, pushing your shirt up over your breasts. He doesn’t bother taking it all the way off, leaving it there bunched up around your neck. His hands cup your breasts gently, thumbs stroking the soft skin.

“Perfect fuckin’ tits.” He groans, squeezing them in his hands.

“Thank you.” You say breathlessly, arching your back to push them more into his hands.

He chuckles, his thumbs brushing over your nipple. A heavy breath leaves your mouth at the sensation against the sensitive bud. Johnny’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he pinches your nipple, tugging on it lightly. There’s a burst of pleasure and a hint of pain that has your stomach clenching again. He tugs on it harder, a sound leaving your mouth at the intense sensation.

Johnny hums in response, leaning his body down over you. His fingers release your nipple, his tongue instead flicking over the bud. You gasp at the warm, wet sensation the cool air in the room cooling the dampness on your nipple, making it harden.

“There ye go.” Johnny says, his lips wrapping around the stiff bud to suckle at it.

His hand cups your other breast, his fingers tugging at your other nipple. The combined sensations has warmth pooling in your stomach, the pleasure from the stimulation coursing through your body. You never thought you could cum just from someone playing with your breasts before, but Johnny continues to try and make that a reality.

“Johnny,” You sigh, running your fingers through his short-cropped mohawk. “Feels good.”

He hums, continuing to suckle at your nipple, his fingers pinching and twisting the other. Your panties are quickly dampening, pleasure shooting from your nipples straight between your legs. His teeth scrape against your nipple, a gasp leaving your lips from the intense sensation. They’re starting to get sensitive, aching and burning but you can’t deny the pleasure still coursing through you from Johnny’s ministrations.

Quiet moans leave your lips as Johnny continues to tease your breasts, pleasure building deep in your stomach. Your legs lift, squeezing around Johnny’s waist as he leans over you. Your hips press upward, grinding against the front of his jeans to try and get more friction against your pulsing clit.

Despite the discomfort you can feel yourself starting to tiptoe towards the edge the more Johnny continues to play with your breasts. You can’t believe it, how good it feels, how quickly you’re approaching an orgasm just from Johnny’s mouth on your nipple.

He sucks hard, lifting his head to tug at your nipple with his mouth. You moan from the pleasure and the pain, his other hand tugging hard at your other nipple.

“Johnny,” You gasp, fingers curling in his hair as your pussy begins to pulse. “F-fuck…”

“C’mon.” He goads you, switching nipples to suck on the other.

Your legs start to tremble, squeezing hard around his hips as your own push up against his jeans. You’re grinding against him needily, pushing yourself closer and closer to the looming edge of pleasure.

His teeth sink into your nipple, biting lightly. Your entire body shudders, hand tugging hard at his hair as a half yelp, half moan leaves your lips. He sucks hard at your nipple, tugging hard on the other and you’re cumming, soaking your underwear.

Johnny suckles at your nipple for just a moment more, until you’re tugging at his hair, lifting his head from the over-sensitive nub. You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling as your pussy flutters from your orgasm.

“Good girl.” He praises you, leaning up to kiss you before he’s sliding down your body, heading straight between your legs. He tugs your shorts down, tossing them somewhere behind him as he presses your legs up. “Look at that.”

He leans down, pressing his face against your panties. He takes a deep breath in, your lips parting in surprise as he buries himself quite literally in your pussy. You’re not quite sure how he’s breathing, but you can feel the warm exhales against your damp panties. He lets out a low groan, teeth tugging at the fabric for a moment before he sits back up straight.

He pushes your legs up farther, moving your hands to the backs of your thighs. “Hold those fer me.”

His thumb drags along the fabric of your panties, pressing hard until he reaches your clit. You sink your teeth into your lip as he pushes his thumb against it, making small, tight circles through the fabric. The friction against your clit has your pussy dampening again, nails biting into your skin from the sensation. He really wasn’t kidding about taking his time. You’ve never seen him quite so patient before. You thought he’d be quick and desperate just like he was when he ate you out on the table in front of your pack.

The thought of that moment has your sensitive nipples hardening, more slick starting to soak your panties. What you wouldn’t have given to let them all have a taste, one right after the other. You’d have let them do anything to you in that moment.

When you sat up and realized no one had their cock out, it had disappointed you a bit. Was Johnny eating you out not enough of a show?

Johnny continues to rub your clit through your panties, slow, methodical circles that drag the fabric against the sensitive bud. You’re moaning quietly, still holding your thighs apart for him. Your panties are fully damp now, his eyes glued to where the fabric has darkened.

He moves his hand from your clit, a disappointed sound leaving your lips. He grips your underwear, tugging upwards and stretching the fabric until it’s tight against your pussy. It’s pushing against your clit, your hips pressing upwards, seeking out friction.

“Fucking Christ.” Johnny moans, releasing your underwear only to grab the waistband and pull until the fabric snaps into pieces.

“Johnny!” You complain, releasing your thighs to push yourself up onto your elbows.

“I’ll buy ye a new pair.” Is all he says, his hands parting your thighs again, forcing you flat on your back once more.

His hands push your thighs apart until they can’t go any further, tense against the strain on your muscles and ligaments. He stares down at your pussy, spread open for him. He licks his lips, hands firm against the backs of your thighs as he lowers himself down, hot breath fanning against your slick folds.

He mumbles out a curse as he presses his face against your pussy, uninhibited by the fabric of your panties this time. He hums, his tongue darting out to press into you just slightly. You let out a quiet sound, lifting your head to stare at him.

He lets out a sigh before lifting his face, pressing his tongue into you as far as it can you. You whine at the sensation, legs pressing against his hands in an attempt to close them around his head. He’s stronger than you though, his hands keeping you spread open wide for him.

His tongue continues to dip into you, drinking your slick straight from the source. The sounds he’s making are obscene, slurping at your pussy like he’s parched. In a way he is, having been denied this opportunity for days, at least until he buried his face in your pussy on the table. Your toes curl at the memory, your hand dropping to grip his mohawk. He groans as you tug at the short strands, pressing your hips up against his face. You’re the one trying to drown him now, but it feels too good for you to care much about his own safety.

You doubt he cares either, not from the way he’s thrusting his tongue into you.

It’s not quite enough, though. You need more, your pulsing clit feeling neglected. You reach a hand down, fingers brushing over the sensitive bud in an attempt to finally ease some of the pressure, but his hand darts out, grabbing your wrist.

He tsks, squeezing your wrist in his hand. “Naughty little kitten. What am I gonnae do with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, letting out a contemplative hum before he’s standing, his hands falling to your waist to flip you over. He grabs your wrists in his hand, the other unbuckling his belt. Excitement and nerves flush through you as you feel the leather against your skin, Johnny tying your hands behind your back with his belt. He slips a finger under the leather to make sure it’s not too tight before he’s forcing you forward, your cheek pressed against the mattress as he hikes your ass up into the air.

“Maybe this’ll teach ye.” He says, patting your ass before he kneels down behind you.

He buries his face in your pussy once more, a muffled moan leaving your lips as he drags his tongue through your folds, finally reaching your clit. He wraps his lips around it, suckling it like he did your nipples. Pleasure courses through your body, your hands tugging at the belt instinctively.

He drags his tongue through your folds again before swirling his tongue around your clit. Your legs jerk, the neglected bud finally getting the attention she deserves. You’re soaked, dripping slick and coating his face in it, not that he really cares. He’s probably enjoying it. You can tell by the way he’s moaning into your pussy, eating it like a man starved.

Your legs are already shaking, knees trembling where they’re holding you up. Johnny’s hands are on your ass, keeping you spread open for his tongue. Pleasure is pooling in your stomach, your sensitive body quickly hurtling towards another orgasm.

Johnny sucks hard on your clit, his teeth scraping against the sensitive bud. You’re moaning into the mattress, hips pressing back against his face as your orgasm rapidly approaches you.

It slams into you like a truck, your legs nearly giving out as pleasure courses through you. Johnny’s hands hold you up, his tongue dipping into you as you cum on his face. He thrusts his tongue into you, lapping up every last drop as you gush around him, shaking and moaning in pleasure.

Johnny moans into you, his fingers dimpling your skin as he holds onto you, still lapping at your pussy.

You’re quickly approaching overstimulation, hips pushing back against Johnny’s face. “Johnny,” you gasp, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

He holds you there, his thumb dropping to rub tight circles around your clit. You whine, writhing against his hold as more pleasure burns from your clit straight through your veins. You can’t stop shaking, sweat beading on your skin as you’re pushed more and more towards another orgasm.

Johnny is moaning like a whore, still fucking you with his tongue as you cum again. His hands hold you up as your knees slip over the edge of the bed, your body unable to function after another orgasm.

He finally relents as you start begging for mercy, dragging his tongue through your folds one last time before he legs your body drop onto the bed on your stomach.

“Screamin’ Jesus.” He breathes, his hand resting on your ass. “’Bout did me in.”

His hips press against your ass, rutting just slightly. The drag of his jeans against your bare skin offers a delicious friction, not enough to hurt but just enough to leave your skin burning.

You turn your head, neck straining as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “Gonna fuck me or just rut against me like a teenager?”

Johnny’s movements pause as he stands there for a moment, hands indenting the mattress by your hips. Those hands move to your waist, sliding down your skin as he pushes himself up to stand. His hands land on your ass, kneading the skin before he slaps one cheek. “Got a mouth on ye. I like it.”

You hear rustling and the zipper of his jeans sliding down as he takes a step back from you. There’s a soft thud as the fabric gets tossed to the floor along with his boxers. He steps back up to you, legs framing yours as he pushes you further up the bed until your clit rests against the edge of the mattress. You let out a quiet sound as his fingers drag up your folds, two of them dipping into you.

“So fuckin’ tight.” He groans, pressing those fingers as deep as he can. Your pussy is still fluttering from your orgasm, squeezing around his fingers.

He slowly begins to thrust them into you, pushing your clit against the comforter with every press of his hand. You whimper, the overstimulated bud pulsing from the pressure. It almost hurts, the overwhelming sensation of the stretch of Johnny’s fingers and the pressure against your clit.

Johnny pushes his fingers downward as he thrusts them into you, brushing up against that spot inside of you. You’re not sure how much more you can take, your legs already shaking from the sensitivity in your body. You’re going to cum again quickly, you know it. Your body has never felt so sensitive before, every inch of you alive with electricity. Your nipples are raw where they press into the comforter, your clit throbbing as its pushed against the edge of the mattress, your pussy clenching tight around the delicious stretch of Johnny’s fingers, the digits hitting every spot inside of you as they can.

Your head is reeling, mind foggy. Your shoulders ache but the pleasure is quickly blotting that pain out, hands pressing against the leather of the belt around your wrists as you get closer and closer to the edge. You can feel it, the building of the pressure, the warmth pooling between your thighs. You’re about to gush around Johnny’s fingers, hurtling straight towards a fourth orgasm and he hasn’t even stuck his dick inside of you yet.

Your back arches, pushing your head up as you cum, legs giving out again as another orgasm rocks through you. It’s almost painful, thighs squeezing around Johnny’s hand. His free hand rubs your back, trailing over the sweat-slick skin.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling his fingers free from your pussy. You hear the slick sound of slapping skin for a moment before something wet hits the backs of your thighs.

You lay there for a moment, feeling the viscous fluid start to slide down your skin. “Did you just cum?” You ask, voice slightly muffled where your face is pressed into the mattress.

“Couldnae stand it anymore.” Johnny says, panting slightly.

Fuck, you think. He got so worked up just touching you he’s cum already.

What a whore.

Fabric touches the backs of your legs, Johnny wiping his cum off your skin with his boxers before tossing them to the floor again. The strain on your shoulders eases away as the leather gets pulled from your wrists. You let out a sigh, letting your arms flop to your sides.

“Easy,” Johnny mumbles, leaning over you to rub your shoulders. You can feel him, still hard and pressed against your ass. Of course he’s still hard. Johnny’s stamina is near legendary.

He massages your shoulders for a moment before his hands fall to your waist, gently easing you over. He takes your hands, pulling your arms up towards him to stretch them the opposite way. You sigh at the stretch, the joints popping after being forced in one direction for so long. He gently rubs your wrists, raw and sore from tugging on the leather.

He presses a kiss to each palm before letting your arms drop. He bends over you, hands pressing into the bed on either side of your head. He stares down at you for a long moment, and you stare right back into those bright blue eyes. “Ye ready fer more?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching up in a smirk.

Your pussy clenches at the prospect of what’s hiding behind that playful grin.

You nod, taking a deep breath in. Your legs are still shaking, but you think they’ll be permanently stuck that way after tonight.

Johnny pushes you up the bed before crawling onto the mattress. He grabs a pillow, slipping it under your hips to prop you up before he’s kneeling between your legs. His hands slide up your thighs, blunt nails scratching at the skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Ready?” He asks, his hands sliding to your hips, his fingers wrapping around them.

You let out a breath before nodding.

“Use yer words.” He says, a shiver running down your spine.

So he’s playing dominant tonight.

“Yes, sir.” You say, your pussy clenching at the look that flashes through his eyes.

“Gonnae kill me.” He grunts, his hand releasing your hips to fist his cock.

He drags the head of his cock up along your folds, slick and wet still despite the numerous orgasms you’ve already had. You’re in for a lot more before tomorrow, you think.

Your head tilts back at the stretch as he pushes his cock into you, the thick head pushing through the slight resistance your overstimulated walls offer. You whine, hands clutching the sheets just from the feel of him stretching you open. He’s barely moved and you’re already pulsing, pussy squeezing around him as he pushes into you. He presses his hips forward, pushing more and more into you, your pussy gaping around his girthy cock.

“Fuck…” He groans, bending his body over you as he continues to push into you, fighting the slight resistance as he seeks to sink as deep as he can, until your hips are flush.

You’re panting, sweat still slicking your skin as he finally gets there, hips pressed tight against yours. He’s so deep inside of you, filling your pussy so perfectly. A perfect cock, you think. They’re all so perfect, but Johnny especially. How you’ve missed him and his ability to wield it.

You almost regret making him wait until last.

Johnny folds his body over you, shifting his position inside of you. You let out a moan as he lays himself against your chest, his lips pressing against yours. You kiss him, pressing your tongue into his mouth. You can still taste yourself a bit on his tongue, sweet and musky. He groans against your lips as you flutter around him, squeezing his cock.

“Fuckin’ love ye.” He grunts, kissing your lips sweetly.

“Love you too.” You breathe, tangling a hand in his mohawk and tugging. He lets out a groan, his hips shifting just slightly against you.

He presses one last kiss to your lips before pushing himself back up onto his knees. He looms there over you, his hands sliding down your sides until they reach your waist. He grips you tightly as he starts to rock his hips. You lay there, staring up at his face as he moves, slowly thrusting into you. You can feel him deep inside of you, his cock dragging against that spot with every thrust. You’re not going to last long, not with how sensitive you are. You don’t imagine he’ll last long either, not with the way he’s already twitching inside of you.

He keeps his pace steady, thrusts slow and even as he does as he promised, taking his time with you. He’s trying to savor every moment, almost like he thinks he’s not going to get this chance again. He certainly will. You know he’s most likely to pull you into his room and fuck the life out of you on a whim.

You think back to all those quickies before he had to go train, all those quickies before meals, those nights he’d pull you into his room in the barracks and bend you over his bed until your legs were shaking so bad you couldn’t leave if you wanted to. The amount of times he ate you out in the rec room, pants down around your ankles as he knelt on the floor.

Spontaneity is Johnny’s middle name.

Johnny starts to pick up speed, thrusting his hips faster against yours. His strokes are deep and even, cock pushing up against you over and over again. You’re already trembling, back slick with sweat and dampening the comforter under you. You can see the sweat beading on Johnny’s forehead as he continues to pick up the pace, the room hot and stinking of sex from your activities.

Neither of you last long, your legs shaking with an orgasm quickly, over-sensitive pussy fluttering around Johnny’s cock. He’s not far behind you, moaning as his body folds over yours as he spills into you. That doesn’t stop him, though, his hips still rocking into you as he fills you.

His hands press into the mattress by your shoulders, his hips grinding into you as he fucks you through your orgasm. You can already feel the burn of overstimulation approaching, the uncontrollable shaking and clenching of your limbs overtaking you.

“Johnny, Johnny,” You whimper his name like a prayer, his hips rhythmically snapping against yours. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even falter as he continues to fuck you. “Please…” You whine, reaching up for him.

He bends his body down, letting your arms wrap around his neck as he continues to snap his hips against yours. “C’mon.” He groans, his teeth scraping your jaw. “One more.”

Another orgasm slams into you, your legs shaking and squeezing around his sides as your entire body writhes under him. He groans loudly in your ear, his hips finally stuttering before he cums again, filling you up until his cum is leaking out around his cock.

His hips still, his body resting against yours. He presses his face into your neck, your head tilting to give him more space. Both of you are slicked with sweat, breathing heavily. You lay there still for a moment, your body still trembling

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ, kitten.” He breathes, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You giggle, squeezing your arms around him. “That good, huh?”

“And more.” He says, letting his weight pin you down for another moment before he pushes himself up to his knees again.

His cock slips out of you, his cum following as it drips onto the pillow under your hips. His fingers gather it before he’s pushing them inside you, pushing his cum back into your pussy.

He chuckles as your mouth drops open, his fingers pushing against your still fluttering walls. “What, thought ye were done?”

You gulp, staring up at that playful grin and those shining eyes. Of course you’re not done. You’re just getting started.

There’s a slickness between your thighs when you wake. You press your legs together but find resistance. Something vibrates through you, your body shuddering on instinct. It takes a moment, but your brain begins to wake up, becoming aware of your surroundings, and what’s happening to your body.

Your hand drifts down, sinking into the short-cropped mohawk. Your legs squeeze against Johnny’s head again, his mouth suckling at your clit lazily. “Johnny?” You breathe sleepily.

“Mornin’ kitten.” He murmurs against your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit again.

You moan, tugging at his hair. How long has he been down there? A while, you think, judging by how wet you are already. Your pussy is sore after last night, but still pleasure blooms in your core. It’s nearly overstimulating, bordering on that painful edge that’s loomed since last night. Johnny has pushed your body beyond what you thought it could handle, making every inch of you sensitive to every little stimulation.

“Gonna cum,” you whine, stomach tensing in anticipation of the pleasure building inside of you.

“Cum fer me.” Johnny almost commands, biting down softly on your clit.

Your hips jerk at the near painful sensation, your legs squeezing so hard around Johnny’s head you’re almost worried you’re hurting him. He offers no complaint, though, sucking hard enough on your clit you almost see stars.

Your hips lift off the bed, pressing your pussy against his face as you cum. Your hands tug at the sheets, heels digging into his back. Johnny sinks his teeth into your inner thigh, grinding against the bed. You yelp as his teeth sink into the sensitive skin, your body jerking from the pinch of pain.

He soothes the spot with a kiss, trailing kisses down your thigh back to your pussy. He offers you no respite, no break longer than he’s already given you, his tongue immediately back to your clit. Your legs jerk as his tongue drags across the overly-sensitive bud, the sensation almost painful after so long.

“Johnny,” You whine, tugging at his hair but he doesn’t let up, starting to suckle at your clit again. “Please…” You whimper against the almost painful sensation.

Your head turns as the door opens, Simon’s big form looming in the doorway. His eyes narrow as he stares at your position, Johnny ignoring him as he continues to suck on your clit.

Simon steps forward, moving towards the bed. “Going to let the bird eat breakfast?” He asks, pausing at the edge of the mattress.

“When I’m done.” Johnny murmurs from between your thighs, sucking hard on your clit.

You yelp, legs shaking from the painful pleasure. Simon’s hand brushes yours away, taking its spot in Johnny’s hair, forcing his head up. Johnny’s eyes glaze over as he stares up at Simon, lips parted, face shiny with your slick.

“Ease up.” Simon says, forcing Johnny back onto his knees. Your legs drop from around his shoulders, falling limp on the bed. “’S time for breakfast.”

Johnny whines, tilting his head back to stare at Simon. “But she hasnae cum again.”

Simon glances down at you before pulling Johnny off the bed. He climbs up onto his knees, the mattress sinking beside you. You get no moment of relief before Simon is stuffing two of his fingers into you, the other hand pressing down on your belly. Johnny stands at the end of the bed, breathing out a curse as his hand drops to his cock.

Simon’s fingers are fast and rough as they thrust into you, curled upward to hit that spot over and over. You know where this is going as hot pleasure burns through you, your legs already shaking. You can’t even try to protest as your back arches off the bed, hands tugging at the sheets as your brain starts to go numb.

You let out a long, loud moan as white hot pleasure shoots through you, Simon’s fingers pistoning in and up inside of you. Your entire body shakes, hips lifting as you squirt all over Simon’s hand and the sheets.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Johnny groans, his own body shuddering.

Simon pulls his fingers out of you as you try to breathe, your head spinning. He pats your pussy before pushing off the bed. “There. She came.” He looks at Johnny and the mess he’s made on the sheets. “Clean yourself up then come out for breakfast.”

All you can do is lay there and try to breathe as you watch his back retreating out of the room.

You’re definitely not going to cry.

Well, not cry again.

You cried packing up the room, making the bed fresh like it had been when you first arrived. You cried double checking every inch of the room to ensure every trace of you was gone.

You didn’t cry loading up the two cars with boxes and suitcases. You didn’t cry standing out on the deck one last time to stare out at the sea. You wanted to go down to the beach one last time, but as usual, it was pouring rain and John said no. You’d get to see the beach again soon, he said. The weather will be clearer by then and warmer. Spring is approaching which means more rain.

You’ve come to hate the rain.

“Holding up back there?” Kyle’s voice cuts the quiet in the car.

It’s a four hour drive from the cottage back to Hereford. There would be no flying this time. You almost wish you were. It would have made this torture go by faster.

“Yep.” You say, head leaned against the glass as you watch the green hills pass by outside. You’re too warm, tucked in under a blanket, but you don’t have it in you to fight it off your body.

Your big bear is buckled in the middle seat next to you, and next to it a few bags and suitcases. The two cars were packed almost full of things you accumulated during your months at the cottage. Stuff bought to make it seem more like home. Home. The barracks. The place you wish you’d never have to see again. Now you’re going back to that cold, sterile world surrounded by alphas and betas you don’t know.

Tears are pooling in your eyes again.

“It’ll only be for a couple weeks.” John says, glancing at you through the rear-view mirror. “I’ve already filed the paperwork.”

Despite the warmth you huddle deeper under the blanket, looking away from the rolling green hills to lean against your big bear. You almost made it ride with Simon and Johnny in the car behind you, but instead you’re glad you stuffed it into the backseat with you.

Kyle turns on the radio, breaking the tense silence that’s settled over the car. You ignore it, closing your eyes. You won’t sleep, but at least you can pretend for a while that you’re not going back to the place you want to see least in this world.

You’re silently glad John somehow had your ID with him as you roll up to the gates of the base. It hasn’t changed at all in the months you’ve been away, still so unwelcoming and cheerless. You forgot how plain their world is, how boring and cold as John drives through the base back to the barracks. It feels like so long ago this had been your normal. You’d walked this base over and over, back and forth to the mess hall, the gym, the training areas. Nothing’s changed here, but everything has changed with you and your pack.

You don’t want to get out of the car as John pulls to a stop outside the familiar white building. It looks just like it did months ago, looming and plain. You sit there for a moment, still bundled under the blanket, leaning against your bear. You don’t want to get out. You want to run back to the cottage, back to the warm, small space that had been your home. It feels more like home than this place ever will.

Just a couple weeks.

That’s what John said. A couple weeks then you’d be leaving for good, never having to step foot on this base again. You, John, and Kyle would be leaving for Scotland to find a permanent home, one that actually felt like home.

Your door opens, John leaning down. “Come on. I know you don’t want to, but we have no choice.”

You have no choice.

You really don’t.

You sigh, undoing your seatbelt before finally pulling the blanket off. The cold air outside makes you shiver, your hands sinking into the sleeves of the oversized sweater you’re wearing. One of Simon’s, you think. You’ve stolen so many of their clothes over the last couple weeks it’s hard to tell what used to belong to who.

Nerves start to twist in your stomach as you move towards the door, propped open by a box as Simon and Johnny start to move your belongings back in. You don’t want to pass over that threshold, step back into the world you so desperately were trying to avoid going back to.

The doorway hangs open like the maw of some hideous beast, some monstrous being waiting to devour you. That mouth will close and swallow you whole down into some nightmarish realm.

There is no escape. It seems to taunt you, lashing out, playing to your greatest fears. Once you step over that threshold, there’s no going back. You’ll be stuck in there forever.

“Come on.” Kyle’s hand presses against your back to nudge you forward. The temptation to dig your heels in, throw a tantrum like a child is strong, but you won’t. There are others around you now, watching, assessing. You’re no longer safe to do as you want, the freedoms you had at the cottage have been rescinded and now you have to play their game again.

Despite your hesitance, despite your unwillingness you force your feet to move, dragging yourself closer and closer to the gaping maw waiting to swallow you. The soles of your shoes seem to sink into the asphalt, every step like wading through quicksand as you force yourself closer and closer to the place you want to be least in the world.

You’d take Texas over this.

You’re shaking as you take the final step, aware of Johnny behind you with a box in his hands, but you can’t make yourself move faster than you are. Just one step and you’ll be through the door, back into the world you left behind, and had hoped would be behind you for the rest of your life.

Foot meets tile and you’re inside. The lights are bright, burning your eyes as they adjust from the cloudy grey outside. It’s only noon but the world seems dark outside. Rain, you think. It’s going to rain.

Johnny nudges you forward gently, feet stumbling to the side as you move out of his way. You’re shaking, knees almost knocking together as you stand there in the barracks for the first time in months.

You’re not glad to be back.

The hallway seems to go on forever, stretching on and on like a hallway in a horror movie. If you ran down it, it might seem to stretch on forever. A five-and-a-half minute hallway.

“Hey,”

You jump as a hand lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps to the side, heart racing at the thought of some random solider entering the barracks, approaching you so openly while your pack is distracted. That’s a hypervigilance you’ll have to return to. They’re all threats, every one of them. You’re surrounded by unfriendly betas and alphas, ones who would jump at any chance to go after an unguarded omega.

They have before.

Kyle’s the one behind you, his hand on your shoulder. You only recognize him through scent, the soft smell of salty air and the gentle scent of beta fills your nose. Your eyes are blurry with tears you didn’t even realize were gathering there.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Kyle says, his hand heavy on your shoulder, trying to ground you in your panic. “But we have to. Let’s go, yeah?” He nods his head down the hallway.

You don’t want to. Spending the next few weeks in the car feels like a better compromise than having to be back inside here.

Instead you let him guide you forward, feet scuffing on the tile as you make your way down that clinically white hallway. It’s all so sterile and unwelcoming, unlike the soft warmth of the cottage. It’s nearly giving you whiplash, the change to the harsh cold of the barracks. There’s no changing it, no making it gentler, more easy to bear. This world is harsh and cold and they’re shifting back into it so easily.

You suppose they’re used to it. Their entire adult lives have been in this. You adjust to where you are because you have no choice. Even sleeping outside in the cold would be welcoming to them. Not ideal, but they’d do it.

You’re not like them.

Kyle squeezes your shoulder before stepping ahead of you, making his way to his door. It squeaks quietly as it opens and he disappears into the darkness, leaving you behind. The world starts to contort, your vision tunneling as you pause outside your own door.

It’s closed as best it can be. The door jam is splintered, the wood cracked from where it had been kicked in. There’s still a boot print imprinted into the wood. You remember the shoving against the door, the jiggling of the handle. It’s cold as you press your hand against it, pushing it open. It only opens a couple feet before it hits something. Your dresser. You’d pushed it against the door to try and buy as much time as you could.

Your hand shakes as you reach through, fingers fumbling until you find the light switch. The overhead light flickers on, shining ugly and yellow from above. You slip through the gap in the door, stepping into your old room.

It smells like dust, all hints of any scents being gone after months of being empty. The window is closed. Someone came in and closed it. Your desk is still in disarray, items knocked over and on the floor from your scramble to get out of the room.

There’s a band tied around your chest, squeezing and squeezing tighter and tighter. Your breaths come in ragged inhales and shaky exhales, faster and faster until your fingers are starting to go numb. You can’t look away from the window, your brain starting to go fuzzy. There’s a pit in your stomach, a violent twisting and dropping sensation. It makes you sick, nausea starting to crawl up your esophagus.

Blood pounds in your ears, no...something is slamming against the door. Panic seizes you, freezing your body in place, stiffening your muscles.

You need to get out. You need to go.

Someone is coming.

You scream as arms wrap around you, tugging you out of the room. You’re flailing, panicking, fists swinging blindly.

“Stop.” A firm voice commands, hands closing around your wrists, tugging you closer. “Stop.”

You’re pushed up against a chest, firm and solid against you. A strong scent floods your nose. Leather, something soft and fresh.

“Breathe.” A voice cuts through the blood pounding in your ears.

You can’t. Every inhale and exhale hurts, your hands curling into fists from the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Come on.” Something wraps around you, squeezing you tightly.

You’re crying. The tears are falling, burning paths down your face as you’re pinned against the solid warmth in front of you. Your lips are shaking, snot sliding down your lip as you cry.

There’s a steady pounding against your ear, thumping evenly. Your mind focuses on that, listening to the rhythmic thump, thump against the side of your face. It clings to that rhythm, your breaths starting to slow. Your hands curl into the t-shirt pressed against your face, the soft fabric wet from your tears.

That steady thumping continues to beat against your ear as the world begins to take shape around you again. You’re pressed up tight against something solid, your body trembling against it. Your fingers are numb, trembling as they grip the fabric of a t-shirt tightly. Your whole body aches, muscles tense, joints locked in place. Your own heart is pounding hard, racing so fast it’s almost painful.

The scent of leather and eucalyptus seeps into your nose, the steady scent of alpha mingling with something else in the air. It’s clouding your brain, soothing its way through your synapses down into the very atoms of your being. It’s easing away that fear, the cloudy haze that’s settled over your mind as you lose yourself to panic.

You’ve had a panic attack, a flashback. Your room hasn’t changed since that day, but why would it? No one has been back to the barracks since that day. Of course it would still look the way you left it months ago. That day you escaped out the window in fear for your life.

No one thought about that.

There’s a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you against a solid chest. The steady thumping against your ear is a heartbeat, strong and slow, calm. It’s comforting, easing you back into your mind and your body and the present.

It’s Simon you’re being held against. Simon pulled you out of the room in the midst of your panic. He’s holding you tightly, arms nearly painful around you as he keeps you pinned to his chest, trying to pull you out of your panic attack and back into reality. You don’t want to get back into reality, into the situation you know you’re in. You want to float away, stay ignorant of everything for the next few weeks. What you wouldn’t give to be sedated right now.

But you can’t. You have to exist in this world again, this world that put you in danger, threatened your life, nearly killed you.

You shift in Simon’s arms, wrapping them around his waist, clinging to him. He keeps his arms tight around you, trying to ground you, trying to keep you calm and make you feel safe. You wish it would work. You wish he could keep you there, safe and secure in his arms for the next few weeks while you’re stuck here. He won’t let anything happen to you, none of them will, but it’s not enough. Their promise, their word isn’t enough, not while you’re stuck in this nightmare.

There’s nothing anyone could do to make these next few weeks any easier.

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[anoonesblog]

Gaz x female!reader, breast kink, lactation kink, nipple play, nursing, milking

Gaz loves your tits. He's always groping them, pinching your nipples, using them like stress toys. When you're fucking he's got a hand on them, or his mouth, sucking your nipples until they're sore. You think it's just a honeymoon period, he'll back off as he gets used to having you around, but instead he gets worse.

Sitting down with a movie and he's got your shirt shoved up and playing with your nipples, ignoring your half-hearted whining, and then spends another hour in bed with his fingers and cock in your pussy as he sucks on them until you come, shoving at his head to try and get him to release you.

Waking you up to his hands oh so gently rubbing and squeezing your breasts, his cock already hard inside you, tracing the tips of his fingers across your nipples so softly you can barely feel it, driving you insane until you beg him to just fuck you already- and then groping your tits so hard the flesh bulges around his fingers, twisting your nipples until you shriek, his cock driving into you like a machine as you fall apart.

You put on a little lingerie as a surprise and find that the lacy cups scratch your tender nipples too much, you're too sensitive, but Gaz pins your wrists above your head and sucks them through the lace as you sob, tears leaking from your eyes as your pussy drools around his fingers, the lace panties rubbing tight where he's shoved them aside, and when you come he shoves the cups down and fucks his cock between your breasts, striping the red, sore skin with his come.

The first time he sucks on them and you feel a strange, pinching sensation you brush it off- of course you feel weird, Gaz has worked your nipples over so much they're perpetually hard and swollen, thick nubs standing out all the time, your breasts heavy and hot from the way he squeezes and slaps and pinches.

The second time it's harder to ignore, and you squirm where Gaz has you on his lap, suckling as you ride his cock. He hums when you mention it, and sucks harder, bucking his hips up sharply so you forget about it in the rush of coming.

The third time it's coming up in you from deep in your breasts, but you're distracted, Gaz fucking you so slow and deep, playing with your clit as you come over and over. He's sucking on your nipples again, his other hand pinching and tugging, and you cry out as everything reaches a fever pitch, cunt drooling and clit hard, your poor nipples so sensitive under his strong fingers and hot tongue, your breasts ache like they're coming too- and oh, they are, as your cunt squeezes and throbs you feel a little liquid drip from your nipples, wetting Gaz's fingers and drawn into his mouth.

He stops as you shudder under him, staring at your tits, and tugs one nipple like he's- oh fuck, like he's milking you, and you moan as a creamy pale droplet forms and he licks it away.

He's relentless even more now, and you can't won't stop him as he suckles your breasts, drawing more milk up day after day until he's swallowing it, wet little gulps to match the slick dripping from your pussy. Your breasts ache all the time, growing bigger and heavier, and the first time he's gone on a mission for more than a few days he returns to you crying as you try to squeeze enough milk from your breasts to relieve the pain. Your tits are overfull, skin stretched, and Gaz barely gets his mouth on your nipple before you're moaning in relief, milk filling his mouth.

He tears your pants off and gets his cock in you before he switches to the other, playing with the now softened breast. You're so wet he can just slide in, and fucks you in sharp thrusts as he sucks the other nipple to the same rhythm, draining your poor aching tit until you're coming around him, whole body lax and loose, blissed out on pleasure and physical relief.

He kisses you with a mouth sweet and damp with your milk, and you suck it off his tongue eagerly, already looking forward to the next day when you're filled back up and ready for him again.

[anoonesblog]

He Paints a Picture (Price/Reader)

WARNING: PERIOD BLOOD KINK

You have been warned!

“Wait,” Price narrowed his eyes at you, “why not? Is everything alright?”

You hated to break the news to him. Ever since you’d had to be off your birth control, your periods had returned with a vengeance. You’d always had rough monthlies, but it almost seemed like your body was getting its revenge. The elevator scene from The Shining came to mind as you considered confessing why you’d been dodging Price’s advances. 

Your ex had been so disgusted with you when it was “that week,” that you’d been conditioned to think you had to hide it. Unfortunately for you, that week was also when you were the most sensitive, craving a delicious pounding to relieve the cramps and satisfy your sexual cravings. 

You didn’t think John would be so cruel, but even just imagining a negative reaction from him truly upset you, so you’d evaded his attempts to fondle you for three whole days. He’d dip a finger into the side of your panties, and you’d scoot away, playing dumb. You’d given him so many blowjobs this week that he started to get suspicious. Now, he was asking you flat out why you were denying him his favorite midnight snack: your pussy. 

“We just…can’t,” you shrugged, hoping he would drop it. 

Fat chance. His brow furrowed, growing concerned,

“Love, did I do something wrong? I thought you were enjoying the back rub. Did I hurt you?”

He was so large that, when he pouted, it looked like you were comforting an disgruntled wildebeest in your bedroom. His big, sad eyes and his frowning, bearded face broke your damn heart. You bit the bullet, realizing you couldn’t go one more minute with him thinking this was somehow his fault,

“It’s that week.”

“What week, love? Did I miss an anniversary? I know I’ve been away last week. Maybe I accidentally had the wrong calendar…” he was frantically flipping through his smart watch, confused and distressed. 

“John,” you grabbed his forearm, shaking your head, “my time of the month, you know?”

You could see the realization wash over him, softening his features before returning immediately to confusion,

“And?”

“What do you mean by that?” You didn’t understand what he was asking. 

“So, the painters are in. What about it?” He looked so lost. You decided to be very upfront, the clarity burning in your throat,

“You don’t care that I’m bleeding?”

Still, no reaction. He shrugged, shaking his head,

“Why would I? I mean, if you don’t feel up to it, I’m happy to fetch the hot water bottle and neapolitan out of the fridge,” he grabbed you around your shoulders, “but a bit of blood isn’t going to scare me off, love. In fact, I bet you’re wet and ready for me right now. Hot.”

He kissed your neck, sucking into your skin, licking your throat, and pulling at the flimsy straps of your tank top. He exposed your breasts, and with how high your hormones were, they felt swollen and hypersensitive. As he rubbed them, kissing your nipples and laving his tongue over them, you moaned from the strong tingles he created in your nerves. 

“Are you sure?” You panted, still nervous about his perception. 

“Mm,” he tugged a nipple into his mouth before looking up at you, darkness shrouding his gaze, “very sure. Lay down. I’ll grab a towel.”

He yanked your top off, throwing your clothes on the floor and dipped into the bathroom to grab a towel. He came back with a big beach towel that he’d had for years. Big palm trees swayed against a perfect blue background. You hoped you wouldn’t ruin it. 

Price signaled for you to raise your hips, and he put the cloth underneath you, protecting the bed. Roughly, he stripped you of your bottoms, making you naked when he was still fully clothed. Then, to your horror, he assumed his usual position with his head between his legs, licking his chops like a hungry wolf. 

“John!”

Mid-lick, he looked up at you, frozen in place,

“What?”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything. Keeping his eyes on you, he continued toward his destination, licking and sucking on your folds, ignoring your worried throat noises. 

“You can’t! It’s…it’s gross, right?”

He mumbled, his mouth full of pussy between phrases,

“No, sweet girl, mmph, ‘s good. Gets my blood up. Cock’s gonna be achin’ in a moment.”

You tried to relax, even getting close to coming since you were so sensitive, but as he licked you, your shame became too much. You thought he was just appeasing you,

“John, please. You don’t have to pretend…”

He was on you in a flash. His hand slipped around your neck, crushing your jawbone, forcing you to look at him in the face, snarling at you like a hound,

“Are you really trying to keep this pussy from me? I don’t care if you bleed every day for the rest of your goddamn life. This is my cunt, and I’m starving for it. You know your safe word. Use it!” 

His sudden aggression stunned you. Price waited, patiently, knowing you needed time to think. He was already covered in red smears, his mouth and beard caked in your blood and sparkling with your slick.  

You looked up at him, eyes worried and full of past pains,

“Are you sure?” 

The captain smiled maliciously, 

“Does this feel sure to you?”

Your heart almost stopped when you felt him slap his cock on your thigh, letting you feel the heaviness of his impossibly hard erection. Your face must have worn your shock all over it because he chuckled darkly, obviously feeling vindicated. 

“That’s what I thought, love. Now, can I get back to my mission, or do you need to stop?”

You stared at him for a while, searching for any deception. Finding none, you shook your head, giving him free reign to proceed as he saw fit. 

Price was such a grizzly when he needed to be, roaring to stand his ground, but you knew that, with just one word from you, he’d release you, forfeiting his claim at your whim. You couldn’t believe that he wasn’t repulsed. If anything, he was turned on. 

He ate you like a man possessed, sucking at you and covering his cheeks and lips and nose in red, sticky blood, not giving a shit about the mess. Your thighs were covered. You could feel every bit of effort he put into making you come, and he seemed to be celebrating each and every moment you moaned or jolted your hips up towards his waiting mouth. 

Then, he reached his hand up toward your hole, sinking two of his fingers into you as deep as they would go, massaging your walls in slow circles as he pushed inside. You groaned in a deep, guttural voice, feeling like your whole body was quivering for his touch. Watching as he pulled his hand out to thrust into you again, you saw the dark burgundy fluid that had fallen from your womb. 

Price paid it no mind. He was too busy humping his cock into his other hand to care, readying himself for your shared pleasure. He began fucking you on his hand in earnest, his knuckles hitting that space between, sending shocks of pleasure through your body, the wet, milking sounds echoing in the room with both of your ragged moans. 

“Oh, fuck, love,” he grunted, “you’re damn well flooded.”

He licked his lips, smearing your blood with his tongue. Then, he bent to suck your clit again, groaning as he did, making it vibrate with his low voice. Even when he made you come from his lurid efforts, he didn’t let up. If anything, it made him wilder to see your redness staining his hand. 

Finally, he pulled away from you, and he used his dripping hand to stain his cockhead, lubing himself up for his entry. There was little resistance to him as he pushed forward into you. That was very abnormal for your coupling. He was heavy and thick, and it usually took quite a bit of grinding to reach your warm middle. Not tonight. 

Tonight, his head sank all the way to your womb, pressing against the soft, sensitive flesh like a wet kiss, and he was beside himself,

“Fuuuuuckin’ hell…” he growled, “That’s good. So. Damn. Wet.”

Each word was a struggle, punctuated by his rough thrusts. As he fucked you, you felt your blood and come coating the skin between you, making a mess of your thighs and ass cheeks, dripping down onto the towel and onto his balls and legs. His face was still covered in blood, as were his hands. He was rubbing his hand on his chest, enjoying the slippery feeling over his nipple, taking turns rubbing your breasts as well. Your skin had red streaks all over it, painted like a Pollock. 

He didn’t last long, and just when he was ready to come, he pulled his cock out to explode all over your belly, rubbing his dick on you and smearing your fluids across your skin. 

The aftermath looked like a war zone. He didn’t help you to the shower until he had repeated his sanguine worship twice again, each time more feral, almost animalistic. It was as if it made him hungrier, watching your blood dry sticky and dark on your body. When you finally walked to the bathroom with him, he made you stand with him in front of the mirror, dipping his finger into you like an ink well, painting more lines and shapes across his ruined face and body, eating it, marking himself with your blood.

[anoonesblog]

Illyrian Mating Season

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.3k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: smut

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬:

mutual pining, friends to lovers, az is in heat, tiniest bitta gore, mating bond, heavy on the creampie, FITA, breeding kink, & cum play

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Trouble finds you when your Illyrian friends are away, and just as you’re about to meet your fate, the shadowsinger comes to save you. But now you have an entirely new issue at hand— he’s near-feral and in the peak of his heat, and you’ve both reached your breaking point.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

I don’t… have any words to explain myself. Do Illyrians have a mating season? Not that we know of. Does Az have a breeding kink? SJM hasn’t explicitly said anything, but…  I’d like to imagine so, yes. At least, in this fic, I sure know he does ;)

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

‘...Warm liquid splattered across the side of your face.

A sickening thud sounded before you and a gust of air and dirt washed over your trembling form. You held your breath, your arms still up in defense. 

Another second passed before you slowly chanced a look… only to find a tall, winged figure looming over you, deathly silent. You could see the violent glint in his eyes even from your position on the ground, the sapphire of his siphons shimmering in the moonlight. They only reflected the light from the sky, not from the use of his power—  no, he hadn’t needed to tap into that imposing, law-defying reserve— not in order to rip the ulf’s head clean off its shoulders; his brute strength had been enough for that…’

– - – - – - – - –

Four long days had passed since the Illyrians had left for the harsh mountains of their native lands, and in their absence, a quiet unease had settled into the House of Wind. 

Family dinners had initially been amusing— with Nyx thoroughly enjoying the undivided attention of all who stayed behind. But the house still felt too empty without the three males’ presence— perhaps one in particular, for you. Ultimately, you’d dismissed yourself to the quaint little cottage you kept at the edge of Velaris in attempt to escape the longing that lurked in your heart, and the void left by the absence of a certain hazel-eyed male. 

The place was stationed on a hill atop a sleepy meadow, a stone wall curbing the property and the twinkling lights of the city on the horizon on one side, the other a breathtaking view of the sea. You liked to come here for reprieve every now and then— a haven from the bustling city and the busybodies that were your friends. It had been quite some time since you last visited; your friendship with the Night Court’s “Inner Circle” had grown stronger than ever lately, and as the newest addition to their little group as in-house healer, you found yourself rarely leaving the residences they often frequented.

The cottage was just as you’d left it, if not a bit overgrown; the grasses and various plants from your garden climbing over the trellises and fences, leaves spread wide and stems heavy with luscious crops. A little slice of peace; the perfect place for your solitude.

The only person you had ever brought here was Azriel.

You had been in the heart of the city with him, in search of presents for Starfall many months in advance. You’d told the Spymaster that you had to stop somewhere else before returning to the House of Wind. You insisted that you’d manage yourself, that he didn’t need to accompany you. But he was equally as firm in joining you on the errand– finally resorting to mention the thousands of stairs that you’d have to face if you split ways. 

So, he came along with you to your humble home, quiet and observant as you guided him down the winding cobble path, through the garden, and inside the quaint walls. He had given few words of acknowledgement, but he did seem satisfied to gather another scrap of information about you, for you’d caught him examining the framed art and dried flowers that adorned the walls, even going so far as to peek into your ceramic cookie jar when he thought you were busy in the other room. That night you’d hidden your small smile as he tucked you into his chest and shot into the sky, content that he found your residence intriguing. 

Azriel– the male that plagued your thoughts, the elusive shadowsinger. He who was content to observe instead of join the conversation, the one who was absent half of the time as his spymaster duties so often kept him busy. Always you noticed his presence when he had the time to entertain a social gathering, always you would meander over to his side to greet him. And always would he return the gesture, saying hello with a soft smile and kindness in his warm, hazel eyes. It was a look you cherished; one that sent butterflies fumbling in your stomach and warmth trickling into your cheeks. A look that you hoped was reserved just for you.

It was only natural you had grown feelings for him. How could you not? He was the kindest, most intelligent, and by far downright sexiest male you’d ever grown close to. Even his scent of cool cedar, of a needled forest just revitalized by heavy rain drove you wild, your crush in the male was irrefutable. And by Gods, when he stood next to you. He completely towered over you, those massive wings high and proud behind his strong back. Any interaction with him always reminded you that he was in exquisite shape, too… and that he would be perfectly capable of both protecting you and having his absolute way with you at any moment he so wished. 

Unfortunately, such enamor for the male only made his current absence harder to withstand. Especially under such circumstances. 

Your thoughts constantly wandered to him, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was with someone right now— how many he had already taken in just the short time he and his brothers had been away. All because it was Illyrian mating season; a rare event that occurred only once every three hundred years or so, when for one week, hormones would rage in all sexes of the warrior race and the camps would inevitably become— as Mor had so eloquently put it— an all-out fuckfest.

The very camps the trio had flown off to just days ago.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and pointed your attention back to the meager meal you were making. Your stomach was painfully empty, but the idea of eating was completely lackluster, even as you sliced the plump tomatoes you had gathered on your way in with careful precision. Hunger had evaded you recently, with the queasiness that took hold of you at the notion of your beloved’s cock balls-deep inside of another. 

You knew you didn’t really have the right to feel such things… Azriel had never explicitly said or done anything to suggest he desired you, and you liked to think you kept your crush a secret which only you were privy to. But he was, after all, the spymaster of the court; a centuries-old being— it was certainly possible that he was indeed aware of your feelings and simply did not return them. 

Nonetheless, you hoped that he felt some similar sentiment for you– there were times when it would be just the two of you that stayed up after everyone else retired for the night, full of smirks and jokes and undivided attention. Times when you would wear something tight and sleek, and you swore you could feel his eyes burning into your curves… only to find them elsewhere when you turned to face him. And all the times he would take you as his sparring partner during the training that he insisted you take under his instruction, when he would best you and hold you there for a moment, the tip of his blade or his fist just brushing you, hazel hues locked to your gaze. 

But that was all conjecture. He hadn’t once done anything beyond that for you to think his rare lingering touches and stares truly meant anything. And then, there were always rumors that he had his fair share of lovers. But that wasn’t surprising— he was one of the most handsome males in Prythian, and a powerful, mysterious one at that. It was to be expected that various fae threw themselves at his feet, legs spread and ready for the taking.

Frustration hit the bottom of your barren stomach, and you sighed as you grabbed a knife from the wooden block on the counter. You made your way to the garden at the back of the cottage to collect some extra herbs. Surely some food could help your spirits lift from the gloom they’d settled into, so long as you were able to force yourself to chew and swallow. You tried your best to rid your thoughts of the shadowsinger as you pushed the door open and wandered into the yard. 

A few sconces were lit around the perimeter of the home, a lonely lamp post flickering at the end of the stone path that wound through the garden. A cluster of spindly trees loomed further on in the distance, their murky shadows nearly blending with the otherwise dark night sky. You hadn’t realized it had gotten so late; stars shone through the clouds above, their light barely reaching the moist blades of grass that tickled your bare feet. You took a second to admire their blazing brilliance; even just a short distance from the city, their dazzling glow seemed brighter. 

Finally finding the plant you had been searching for, you crouched down and rubbed your fingers on the leaves, its earthy scent releasing into the air. You took a deep breath of it, savoring the pleasant, spicy aroma… until your eyes opened wide and you froze, limbs going stiff. 

That smell… it was of rotten flesh and matted fur. It was… 

A twig snapped behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. Fear shot down your throat to form a tight ball in your gut, your fingers tightly gripping the puny paring knife that would be your only weapon to defend yourself. 

The ulf lunged forward at the same moment you whirled around, the tip of your knife now raised as you struck across where you hoped its throat would be. 

But an emaciated, leathery arm was outstretched there, and it let out a terrible cry as you plunged the blade into the limb. Almost instantly it had struck you with its other hand, sending you flying into the cottage wall. 

Your breath whooshed out of you as you collided with the rough stone bricks, your ears ringing as your skull smacked into the arm you threw up to take the brunt of the blow. Your vision shook as you sat there stunned, the doubled image of the furry beast before you merging into one just as it lept toward you. 

You rolled forward, tucking out of range from the assault, narrowly missing its gnarled teeth, canines glinting in the starlight.

Just as you got your feet under you and you braced your legs to shoot up into a run, its wretched claws sank into your exposed ankle. 

Your scream pierced the silence of the empty meadow, pain racing up your leg as the terrifying creature dragged you toward it, digging deep enough to scrape bone. 

Tears flooded your vision but you forced them away, focusing all your strength into a kick across the creature's muzzle, and a second one straight  to the neck. The impact summoned a garbled wheeze from the ulf, and it released you as it stumbled back in recoil. 

You scooted back on the grass, shaking and one hand covering your fresh wound, the other reaching out blindly behind you in search of whatever you could use— something you could throw at it, stab it— anything. Your blood began to spill onto the dirt beneath you, a dark trail smearing the grass as you kept moving backward. With it was the fragile hope of defeating the beast, as though all the grueling hours of training were leaking out of you along with the scarlet. 

Your wide, fear-filled eyes would not leave the terrifying beast, tracking its every movement. You took in its horrifying face, its filthy lip that curled back at you and those wicked eyes that locked onto you as it regained its bearings. 

Your brain screamed into your subconscious, a desperate plea that would reach no one. Help! Please, oh Gods, help me! 

There was nothing you could use to defend yourself— your tiny knife was still lodged in its flesh, and the only thing you’d managed to grab from behind you was an unripe carrot from the soil. The ulf seemed to realize it had you, for it sat back on its gnarled haunches and pounced for you. 

This was it.

You closed your eyes, a whimper leaving you as you braced for impact, wishing for a quick and painless death.

A high-pitched whine. And a horrible ripping sound. 

Warm liquid splattered across the side of your face.

A sickening thud sounded before you and a gust of air and dirt washed over your trembling form. You held your breath, your arms still up in defense.  

Another second passed before you slowly chanced a look… only to find a tall, winged figure looming over you, deathly silent. You could see the violent glint in his eyes even from your position on the ground, the sapphire glow of his siphons shimmering in the moonlight. They only reflected the light from the sky, not from the use of his power—  no, he hadn’t needed to tap into that imposing, law-defying reserve— not in order to rip the ulf’s head clean off its shoulders; his brute strength had been enough for that. The rest of the beast’s decapitated body was slumped on the soil just a foot away from you, black blood oozing into a pool that slowly crept outward. 

You still hadn’t taken a breath as your gaze flicked back up the male before you— only to then realize he was shirtless. The ridges of his muscles stood out in contrast between shadows and starlight and he stared down at you, practically fuming where he stood, icy rage billowing down broad shoulders. His toned torso glittered with sweat, dark whorls of ink dancing across tan, firm skin. You wondered what he had been doing in order to glisten with exertion like so; he had killed the ulf with such ease that certainly the perspiration couldn’t have been from that. 

The cool caress of shadows at your ankle managed to pull your attention, sparing a glance at the tendrils that fussed over the scarlet trickling through your digits. They wiggled beneath your fingers and you gasped as they turned colder, binding around your skin. A soothing calm seeped through the limb, and you finally dared to breathe again. 

Azriel still had yet to say a word, observing as you slowly shifted to sit on your knees, unsheathing the kitchen knife from the ulf’s corpse. He seemed fine, almost– perhaps if you didn’t know him so well, he could’ve gotten away with such a judgment. But you could see how his hands were clenched into pale-knuckled fists, see that his breath was forced, coming out in clipped, ragged pants. The male was as stiff as a board, braced as though he was ready for flight or fight. 

You’d never witnessed an Illyrian during their mating season– not many had. It was a sacred event that the race liked to keep to themselves, cooped up in their camps and locked away, not to be disturbed. Amren had told you of an elders’ tale that claimed that once, an army had tried to attack an Illyrian settlement during the season, thinking the warriors would be vulnerable… only to find that the winged race was tenfold more vicious and bloodthirsty, and had decimated the offenders with abhorrent devastation, leaving no survivors before returning to their ritual. It was said the race was only capable of two things during the season: fighting and fucking.  

Now as you examined the male, you could imagine the fable holding some truth. 

The shadowsinger was visibly pumped– even in the dark, you could tell that his muscles were bigger, making his already-impressive frame even more intimidating. Pure power and testosterone pulsed off of him, weighing down the air with cedar musk. The silhouette of his massive wings loomed behind his shoulders, making him appear even larger as you studied him from below. To any other, it would be a terrifying view to behold. But all you felt was security; absolute safety in his presence. 

“Are you alright?” Azriel finally rumbled. His voice was deep, gravely as if he’d just woken up. Maybe it was another physical side effect of his current predicament. 

You pushed yourself up from the ground and stood on fawn legs. “I think so..,” you said, taking a tentative step. 

It took that full step for you to realize that the shadow tourniquet only numbed your pain— it did nothing to heal your wound. You whimpered and tumbled forward, mortification flooding your cheeks as soon as you began your descent. 

But you never touched the grass. 

In an instant, Azriel’s corded arms were wrapped around you, and you were pulled snug into his chest. You gasped at the same time he groaned, his skin a thousand degrees where it touched yours. Heat burst in your cheeks at the sound, your eyes going wide.

Not a second passed before you were off of him, his hands planted firmly at your arms’ side, thrusting you as far away from himself as possible. His head hung down toward the ground, silky locks falling into soft waves that shielded his face from you. You noted the way he panted, fingers like steel digging into your skin.

“Um… are you alright, Az?” you asked, observing the tremble that reverberated throughout his tense body. 

Something akin to a growl tumbled out of him.

“I’m fine,” he replied, voice clipped and his eyes still fixed on the grass at his feet. 

Maybe it was stupid to be toeing the line with him when he was in such a state… but you couldn’t help it. He had saved you from a nasty fate, he had come for you even when he was under such stress, when he was so far away. You weren’t quite sure how he knew you were in danger when he was so very far away in the Illyrian mountains— though you had an inkling. If maybe somehow… perhaps the two of you were… 

You swallowed. 

Reaching for him, your fingers stretched out before they met his stubbled jaw. The male stilled, unable to fight himself and pull away. His shaky exhale washed over your exposed collar, something stirring low in your stomach. 

“I can’t be here,” Azriel said, his voice hard yet soft somehow. His eyes flickered toward your lips before he scrunched them closed, his form taut and coiled, like a snake ready to strike.

His statement made your heart deflate, your hand falling to your side. You crossed your arm over your middle, rubbing your forearm awkwardly. “Right, I… I’m sorry for interrupting you, you must’ve been…” you gulped, “… busy.” 

Hazel flew up to meet your gaze but you wouldn’t look at him. Instead he took in the way your brow was slightly furrowed, a ghost of a pout on your pretty, pink lips. 

“I wasn’t …” he paused, tongue parting his mouth. “Don’t apologize. I’ll always come for you,” the male vowed, fixing you with his intense stare. 

Butterflies swarmed your stomach at his promise, your cheeks fuzzy with sudden emotion. Wordlessly Azriel closed the distance between you and you froze, wide eyes locked on his close face. And then your feet were swept out from under you and your body was secure in Azriel’s embrace, your head snug against his naked chest. 

You didn’t miss the low inhale from the male, your heart racing at his attempt to subtly take in your scent. Your core throbbed and you blushed at the intensity of your body’s response to his. Never had you been up against his bare chest like this… the proximity made you dizzy, your fingers tingling with the urge to explore every inch of him. His skin was so warm– or maybe that was yours, feeling hot wherever you directly touched him. And whose heartbeat was thumping like crazy up against your chest? 

Azriel stalked his way inside your home, feet heavy and strides rushed, but careful not to hit you on the doorway. His wings tucked in as he entered the kitchen, and you swallowed at his large silhouette. His head was only a short distance from the ceiling, the apex of his wings nearly dragging against the plaster. 

“Did you get… taller?” you peeped up as he gently deposited you on the edge of the sturdy wooden table in the middle of your kitchen, large, scarred hands making sure you were balanced before they drew back. 

Shadows slithered off into all directions, melting into the darkness of your dimly lit home. You watched them disappear before you looked at the male once again, only to find his gaze already trained on you. 

“Yes,” was his curt reply, hazel tearing off of you as shadows supplied the first aid kit from beneath your bathroom sink cabinet into his waiting hands. 

“Oh,” was all you could muster, not quite sure what to make of that. 

Your eyes followed long, agile fingers as he opened the kit, rifling through the gauze and bandages. He wordlessly handed you one of the little vials of tonic that would help with the pain and speed up the healing process. Popping the little cork off the bottle, you tipped your head back and gulped down its bitter contents without protest. 

Azriel was silent save for his burning gaze and heavy breathing. Even if you couldn’t hear his labored breaths, you could see he was somewhat off by the way his firm chest muscles heaved. 

“It’s because of the season,” he explained, voice rough. His wings shuddered and then let loose a brief shake— the claws that lined each joint flexing inward. You shivered as you studied them, imagining the talons would slice through flesh like water, the hooked tips glinting with the promise of pain. 

You had to admit, there was something remarkable about just how deadly the male before you truly was… and even more so in his current state. Your eyes wandered to his lean forearms when he uncapped a metal tin of salve, mesmerized by the way his veins bulged with the smallest exertion.

What else could those fingers do? 

Your tongue poked out to wet the seam of your lips, just at the same time you turned to look at him. Hazel was ablaze and focused entirely on you, the corner of his eye twitching as his hands turned to fists. 

“Don’t,” he warned, tone hard and unwavering. 

You swallowed, wincing as he smeared the paste onto your oozing gash. A rough thumb smoothed over the adjacent skin as if to apologize for the fleeting pain, skilled hands wrapping your ankle in bandages with practiced precision. 

“Don’t what?” you asked, your voice not sounding your own. The overwhelming terror that had filled you just minutes ago was completely dissipated now; washed away and drowned under fresh waves of desire. 

Azriel ripped the gauze from the roll with ease, taking care not to pull too tight as he finished the job with a little bow. The male shook his head, trying to clear the lustful fog that permeated the usual disciplined walls he threw up whenever he was around you. 

“If you’re okay now, I have to leave,” he said through clenched teeth, each second spent in your presence making his fight all the harder. There was no venom in his voice— but it was hard, and heavy. His words seemed empty– his body remaining still before you, a scarred hand lingering on your leg.

“Can you stay? Please?” you said, tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eye, giving him your best attempt at demurity. Normally you would never be so bold, but this was far from usual circumstances. 

Azriel flashed his teeth at you in what could’ve intended to be a grin, but it came off as more of a grimace, shaking his head. He removed his hand from you, retreating a step. Shadows slowly gathered toward him, and panic flashed in your chest. 

“I can’t,” is all he replied with, darkness melting into the edge of his silhouette.

“Why?” Your spine went straight, pushing yourself up to sit upright and face him fully. “Is there… someone waiting for you?” You wanted so badly to sound strong, accusatory… but it only came out as hurt, your words soft. 

“No,” he denied instantly, some unknown emotion making his wings flap with indignation behind him, making scrolls scatter around the room, tiny herb jars rattling at the force. Neither of you paid them any mind. “There’s no one. I can’t—” he huffed, turning his face to the side, eyes falling to the floor. He continued, his voice low, “I’ve been alone this season.”

Relief exploded through your body, warmth blooming at his admission. He hadn’t been with anyone else? Worry quickly weaved its way into your heart— why hadn’t he been acting on his instincts? He’d been fighting his desires for the last four days? Wouldn't refraining from… fulfilling his urges have repercussions? 

You frowned, taking in the sight of the male before you. He was clearly a divine specimen– there was no way that the other Illyrians simply didn’t want him. And wasn’t he supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust right now; a hunger, a need to fuck anyone who so much as looked at him? You thought harder about what you knew of the season, about the little scraps of knowledge you had discovered deep in the library catalogs. 

During mating season, Illyrians are filled with an immutable need to procreate, to extend a lineage with as many partners as possible. Hormones skyrocket within the race and their thirst can only be calmed through physical exertion. Some activities may provide relief, such as violence or self-stimulation, but ultimately, the urge may only be temporarily quelled by sexual intercourse. The only circumstance an Illyrian may abstain from such primal needs is through the recognition of the mating bond. Only through such unparalleled devotion may an Illyrian remain loyal during the mating season, either choosing to spend their rut in solely their mating bed, or in extremely rare cases, solitude.

Your heart felt funny, your stomach flying up into your throat. Wasn’t it possible that Azriel was… your mate? No– because he wouldn’t keep such knowledge from you… not if he knew. But then, if he was truly alone, then it was clear that he knew he had a mate. He had come running to your call when you mentally cried out into the abyss, when you hadn’t even known who you were calling to, if anyone could hear you. 

But Azriel heard you. And he had rushed here to save you, even in such a state. 

“Then stay,” you said simply, hands coming to lay behind either of your hips on the table. 

The shadowsinger bared his teeth, a growl ripping through him that shuddered your core. Your invitation was testing him– you were pushing him too far, and you had the audacity to bat your eyelashes at him while doing so. He was just barely shaking, muscles so tight with restraint that he looked to be in physical pain. “Can’t you see that I’m losing my fucking mind at the sight of you? I can’t control myself right now,” he groaned hoarsely, sweat lining his temple. 

You leaned forward, excitement sparking as his eyes immediately flew to the bit of cleavage that was revealed with the motion. Slowly, you spread your legs, your fingers trailing your inner thigh. Your face felt on fire— every part of you did. This was so uncharacteristically bold of you; the two of you had been walking on the eggshells of your attraction for so long now. 

But you couldn’t look away from him, couldn't stop yourself from tempting him. You were tired of the games, tired of the questions, of the chase. You wanted him. 

You wanted him now. 

Your heart felt like it was beating a thousand times a minute as his gaze fixed on the apex of your legs, and you whispered, “So lose control.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, jumping to your face as shock flooded them. His shadows didn’t need to be told twice, immediately twirling around your feet and crawling up your parted legs. He stepped back after a moment of buffering, his shadows seeming to shriek with protest as he yanked them back, withdrawing further away from you. 

“No— I could hurt you. This is not how this is supposed to go, we—“ he huffed, fists curled and muscles wound tight. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” 

You melted inside, his sentiment sending warmth echoing through you like the wake of a stone plunged into placid water. He had thought about the two of you being together before? The pieces of the puzzle were all falling into place, your doubts dissolving by the second.

Azriel’s eyes widened, surprised he had actually just revealed that to you. A faint blush dusted his tanned cheeks, and he closed and opened his mouth, shocked at his own confession. The inner battle with his raging hormones had made his iron-clad restraints weak; letting words slip from his tongue that had been lingering there for so fucking long.

You slid off the table and took a step forward, palms open at your sides as if he were a wild animal that could be scared off at the slightest wrong move. “Az, you’re right,” you said, eyes fixed on his. “This was supposed to happen a long fucking time ago.”

The male gaped and blinked, hazel eyes wide as they raked over your advancing form. 

You drank him in, too— gaze lingering on the sizable bulge that jerked in longing beneath his pants. You pursed your lips, salivating at the thought of what laid beneath. You chanced another step. 

“Fuck,” he swore, his breath ragged. He licked his lips, pecs heaving with every labored pant. “Y/n please, you can’t— you don’t know what you’re doing, I’m not myself right now, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled softly. Didn’t he see? “You won’t, Azriel. I trust you…” 

“You shouldn’t,” he said, protests growing weaker with every second. You could tell his resolve was slipping, his shadows inching closer to you, stretching for another taste of your skin. 

Azriel twitched when your hand met the hot, inked skin of his chest, throwing his head back as he swallowed a moan. His hormones were wild with the season’s influence, heavy pheromones permeating the air with infectious lust. It was becoming unbearable to be this close to you without pressing you against the nearest surface and plunging into the tight heat that was surely slickening between your legs. Kept fingernails dug into the palm of his hands as he clung desperately to the last thread of his composure. 

“Please, Az,” you murmured, lips finally touching the column of his throat, as high up as you could reach, just beneath his jaw. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you for another second.” Your tongue poked out to taste him, salt and musk ambrosial on your taste buds. 

This time, the male didn’t hold back his moan, instead letting it fill the heavy kitchen air and making butterflies explode in your stomach. The sound sent a rush to your core and you clenched hard, fingernails digging into his flesh. 

You squeaked when scarred hands gripped you and flung you back onto the kitchen table, hard enough to concuss. But there was only shock, no pain; for Azriel cushioned the impact, an arm curling around your waist and hand cushioning the back of your skull so you didn’t slam your head— the male fluidly moved with you, ending up pressed above you chest to chest. Your body thrummed with anticipation, excitement bursting forth in your veins. 

Now you’d done it. 

The last scrap of his restraint had been ripped away and now you were in for the fuck of your life. You blinked in stupor, but Azriel left no time to waste. Hazel was blown wild as he stared down at you, pinning your wrists with each of his large hands. 

“Trust this,” he asserted, rutting your clothed sexes together. You gasped, the hard, huge length of him shocking even through the clothes between you, your eyes growing wide as they met his burning hazel gaze. “I am steel for you. Only you.” 

His hot tongue lashed out to claim your neck, full lips joining to mark the divot between your clavicle and shoulder. The intensity made you keen, your head tossing to the side as you screwed your eyes shut and sang for him, hips rocking up against his. You could feel your panties wet with slick, his savage behavior making your body throb, readying itself for his taking.

This was insane. There was nothing that could compare to this— the need, the depravity of this, of him. 

You could hardly believe that he had come for you, had saved you. Was this the gratitude every maiden in peril felt, or was this something more? Something much more? From the way the male was possessively claiming your skin with his mouth, your heart leapt into your throat, stomach twisting with hope.

But you couldn’t dwell on it, his fingers quickly traveling to the front of your blouse and promptly ripping the seam down your middle. Buttons clattered all around you on the floor below, your breasts spilling out for his eyes to devour. His mouth followed, lips quickly catching a nipple and sucking you in, nose poking into your flesh as he drowned himself in your supple skin. 

Your back arched as you mewled, lashes flying shut and digits flying to curl into his hair. Soft onyx locks twisted between your fingers and you couldn’t help the grin that sprouted as he moaned your name into your skin— you weren’t the only one lost in the throes of pleasure.

You couldn’t slow for a second, couldn’t stop— he was hard as rock beneath his leathers, every piece of him lined with lean muscle. But the part of him that melted your brain most was his cock; you could feel it reaching for you, the thick outline of it pressing against your core through the layers. It made you ache, intolerably so— your pussy stirring as you imagined what that length would feel like stretching you out and filling you to the brim. Your hands reached out before you could even comprehend what you were doing. 

Azriel roared when your fingers landed on the stiff forearms of his wings, his front surging forward and rutting into yours. The surprise in his gaze quickly morphed to voracity and your body shook in response, your legs spreading to curl around his waist and draw his lower half closer. You squeezed the hard appendages, fingertips sliding down to rub closer to the joints.

Shadows swarmed the pair of you and you cried at their cold touch, having forgotten them completely. But they were sure to remind you of their abilities, and you’d never underestimate them again. One second you were engulfed by darkness and the next, you were completely bare, your nakedness on full display for the shadowsinger’s ferocious gaze to drink up. The tendrils lashed out and snatched your hands from his wings, growing taught around your wrists and holding them down atop the table.

All you could see was his piercing eyes taking in every inch of the sight before him, his shadows covering his body as the silhouette of his massive wings hung high and dark behind him. Obsidian swirls curled into his hair and licked upon his skin, blending easily with the dark whirls of ink that marked his frame. 

Your mind was now wholly consumed with lust; the utter primality with which he was treating you made your core stir like nothing else. Your hips wriggled as you waited for him to touch you, but immediately the shadows strapped you firm against the tabletop, your ankles dragging to the corners to expose your most intimate part right before his eyes. 

Heat burst into your cheeks, embarrassment blooming in your chest at the exposure. But you saw the way Azriel’s face twisted when his eyes traveled down from your face, down past your tits and your navel and down until they fixed on your pink, glistening hole. Thick brows furrowed and you could practically see the steam from his heavy exhale, his pupils dilating til you swore his gaze had been engulfed by shadow too. 

And then all you could see were the wicked talons that crested the tips of his wings, because the male fell to his knees and shoved his face directly into your cunt. 

You cried out, body ringing taut when his nose shoved into your clit. The heat of his tongue flat against your entrance drew a subsequent moan out from the depths of your lungs, fingernails digging into the lacquered wood beneath you. 

Azriel took you into his mouth and you melted as his guttural moan vibrated through you, your body tingling all the way to your toes. His stubble tickled your thighs as he nudged deeper, drowning himself in your essence. He dove into you without holding back, tracing your slit with precise flicks of that wicked tongue and then slipping the warm muscle inside your quivering hole. The lower half of his face was soon coated in your slick, and with every movement of his, only more wetness leaked out of you for him to savor. 

Scarred hands curled around the tops of your thighs, calloused fingertips digging into soft flesh. They spread your legs wider, broad shoulders coming to hold you open as he ravaged you, pulling you closer so that no space remained between the pair of you. 

You sobbed when his tongue finally trailed from your entrance, following your folds the short distance to your clit. He growled into your center in response to your garbled noise, lips taking hostage of the sensitive little pearl. Your skull smacked hard wood as your head flew back, but you didn’t care— Azriel’s hands had wandered from your thighs to your hips, slipping underneath to grab handfuls of your plush bottom. His fingers dug into the meat of your ass, pulling you apart so he could shove his face even deeper into your cunt. 

“Aha– oh, Az– fuck!” you moaned as he ate you mercilessly, your limbs still held prisoner by taut shadows. No matter how hard you struggled, the void would not give– if you could only hear the things they whispered to their master, if you could only know how happy they were to assist him in his plight…

Azriel groaned against your soaked pussy, the sound echoing in waves of pleasure that rippled through your body. Your legs had begun to shake, fingers curling into fists that couldn’t grab him but desperately wanted to. It should’ve been shameful, the way you were already racing toward an orgasm. He knew just what to do to you, knew exactly how to deliver you right to ecstasy’s doorstep. 

And then he drew back. 

You had just enough time to open your eyes and look at him to protest, lips already forming your displeasure. But instead, you clocked him as he stood, your eyes falling from his sizzling stare down his contoured, tattooed torso… down to that delicious V that tapered down narrow hips, the ink adorning the lines of his body until—

You gasped, gaze wide. His cock stood upright— tall, thick, swollen, and hard as… steel. A translucent trail of his lust trailed down the vein that bulged along the underside, a sticky bead dripping slowly off the pink tip. Fuck, had such a marvel been within reach all this time? 

Your hole clenched in welcome. 

Blush stained your cheeks as the male caught the movement, a devilish smirk curling at the corner of his lip. You whimpered when he stepped closer, the tip of him nudging through your glistening folds. Azriel sighed, gripping the base of himself and rubbing the two of you together. Your cries were music to his ears, your hips flexing against the shadows to try and trace yourself onto the thick length of him.

“Oh Gods, you’re perfect,” he murmured, a hand coming to cup one of your breasts in his palm, thumbing over the hardened nipple there. Your name drifted out of him as he loosed a shallow thrust, the very tip of him dipping into your soaked opening. 

You wailed when his hips drew back and he slid back in with ease, half of him disappearing inside of you. How he had slipped inside of you so easily, you couldn’t know– you were wetter than you’d ever been, yes, but his manhood was also almost too big– you didn't know if it would fit all the way inside. Your head fell back against the table once more, your quick breaths making your chest rise and fall, your breasts heaving with the action. 

The shadowsinger watched the movement, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Only once he heard your sob did he realize he had thrust in all the way, and your eyes had rolled back as your body strained underneath him. You looked so angelic like that, with your cunt wrung tight and wet around all of him, your curves making both his wings and his cock twitch with anticipation. 

He gave another tentative thrust, the last shred of sanity slipping from his brain as your walls hugged him, his body trembling. He’d been able to hold out on his own for the last few days by pleasuring himself, but that was leagues away from this. The inside of you was completely soaked for him, and the heat of you squeezing around him made the last of his resolve melt away into nothingness. 

You could see the moment his control really slipped— his hazel gaze bleeding black on the edges. His grip tightened, fingertips digging into your flesh like claws as he gathered your hips closer to him, so your ass rested right on the edge of the table. Excitement and a little fear burst forth in your stomach as intensity radiated off of the male, the scent of his outright arousal heavy in the air. 

Suddenly his hips snapped forward, and you couldn’t stop the shriek that spilled out of you. Azriel moaned too, louder than you’d imagined he would in your fantasies. Every inch of him was nestled inside of you and that was no ordinary feat. Your cunt throbbed with the thought, more of your essence oozing out for him. 

Azriel didn’t waste a drop of it, finding a rhythm that buried himself to the hilt inside you with ease thanks to your ample slick. Huge, magnificent wings trembled behind him, a sign of just how strung out he was in his current state. 

“Ugh, fuck— Goddess, you’re a goddess,” he praised, gaze fixed on the bounce of your tits as he rammed into you again and again. 

His name fell from your lips as you panted, your hole stretched wide around the base of him. Each stroke had your mind melting, sweat starting to cling to your skin as you trembled at the intensity of the pleasure. You watched his massive cock slide in and out of you, your slick coating the inside of your thighs as you greedily took in every thrust. 

“I can’t, ahh I can’t, I can’t—“ Azriel chanted, his abs clenched so hard you couldn’t help but watch sweat drip down the valleys between the prominent muscles. 

Suddenly his thumb found its way to your clit and began to glide over the little nub with great generosity. You wailed and clamped onto him harder, your climax racing forth as his hips continued to slap wetly against yours. 

“Cum,” he ordered, voice clipped and full of unshakable authority. The sheer dominance radiating off of the male above you was palpable, your body bending to his command. “Be a good girl for me and cum on my cock. Y’want me to cum in this pretty pussy baby? C’mon, cum and milk it out of me, good girl— oh fuck yes—“

Your cunt went tight around him and you cried out as stars flooded your vision, your orgasm hurtling into you, his filthy words sending you over the edge. Pure ecstasy pulsed through your entirety as you came, your walls pulsing as they ached for his imminent release. You felt like your entire body was aflame, and yet that was nothing compared to the heat glowing in your chest, a foreign, welcome weight presenting itself, a rope to hold onto as you nearly lost yourself in the throes of pleasure.

Azriel moaned and pushed all the way inside of you as he met his own climax. Hot streams of his seed spurted out of his throbbing cock, deep into your womb and your eyes rolled back at the heat that blossomed there. You could feel yourself filling with him— he just kept shaking and throbbing and moaning as more and more emptied out of him. Days of just barely scraping by the mating season had left him with balls painfully full and now all you could do was ride out the waves of your shared orgasm as he filled you to the brim. Sweet relief washed through Azriel’s overheated body– emanating from where the base of his cock nestled deep inside of you. With every spurt of release, that insatiable need within him extinguished until he nearly fell on top of you, shaky arms braced to catch himself.

His face fit into your neck, labored breaths cascading over your hot skin. Tremendous leathery wings draped down over his shoulders, his rough hands coming to wrap around the back of your neck and your waist, pressing your bodies together with great care. You hummed with satiety and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, floating back to the ground from your ecstasy. Your hands now released from his shadowy binds, one combed through his silky hair while the other found the divot of his spine, fingers trailing over his dampened skin in soothing motions.

For the first time in days, Azriel’s mind was clear. His eyes opened wide as he came to his senses. He had just taken full advantage of you– he was balls-deep inside of you, and you were full of his seed. His breath began to quicken, his just-calmed mind now gaining speed as the full extent of his actions now hit him. 

Slowly he retreated from the solace of your embrace, just enough to catch your eye. “Y/n, I–” he began but you wouldn’t let him. 

You wouldn’t let him regret this when you were still here, in the best moment of your life, the intensity of the fresh golden thread between your hearts glowing and filling your body with unbridled joy. 

“I love you, Azriel,” you declared, hands coming to hold his sculpted jaw, thumbs drifting over his cheeks and chin. You imagined the tether in your mind, taking hold of it and tugging, like you were pulling your chests impossibly closer. 

Surprise flooded his gaze, his brow high as his parted lips ticked up into a sideways grin. His hazel eyes softened as they roamed your face, like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He breathed out your name, voice soft as a feather, his fingers stroking your neck tenderly. 

“My mate,” you whispered and Azriel visibly shuddered, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he closed his eyes and smiled bigger than you’d ever seen. It was the most breathtaking sight, him smiling like that– and your heart felt so full, knowing that you were the cause behind it.

The male tucked his face back into your shoulder and gathered your body flush to his, cradling you even closer than before, pressing every piece of you together as close as possible. “My mate,” he echoed, deep voice almost a purr, his happiness rippling over the bond in loud, unapologetic swells. 

You pulled his hair just enough for him to lean back and see eye to eye again, sharing a loving look before your lips met. Sparks rushed through your body, his lips slotting between yours and your noses brushing together. You drew back to catch your breath, but Azriel leaned in and captured your mouth once more, unwilling to part with you for even a moment. You gasped and his tongue glided in, meeting yours with a wild tenderness you’d never experienced before. Your tongues brushed together and you couldn’t fight the small moan that crept out of you, your body moving on its own volition to roll your hips against his.

Azriel moaned back, and your cheeks flushed with heat as you felt his hard cock twitch inside of you– you hadn’t realized he’d never softened, even after that law-defying orgasm. You could feel his essence leaking from you– his member taking up so much space inside you, there was barely any room for his cum to remain within your walls. 

You seemed to be on the same page, for he stepped back and you both watched as he unsheathed his thick length from you. Finally he removed himself and your hole clenched at the emptiness. Your cheeks became hot as you witnessed a river of his thick, white cum rush out, the sheer amount of it so much that the stream swiftly became a puddle that spilled over the table’s edge and onto the floor. 

The sight only made you hungry for more, your bottom lip taken prisoner between your teeth. You caught Azriel’s equally-desirous gaze, throwing one more glance at his cream-covered cock before you flipped yourself over, your palms and knees now resting flat on the tabletop, careful to keep your injured ankle dangling off the table. 

Your male growled at the invitation, immediately closing the distance between you two. His hands took hold of your ass, so large that his fingers could grip the curve of the soft flesh and his thumbs spread your raw pussy open at the same time. You whined as you felt more of him leak out, trailing over your clit and down your thighs.

Azriel moaned at the sight, dipping a thumb into his spend and inside your cunt, enjoying the feeling of your aching walls throbbing around him. You panted and bucked back against him, desperate for more. Now that you’d had a taste of his cock, and his cum… nothing else would suffice. The Illyrian complied with your needs– his cock already hard and dripping with precum again, the sight of you too much. The lust from his hormones was already starting to build again– or maybe that was the fresh acknowledgment of the bond– he didn’t know, nor care. 

You keened when the searing tip of him pressed against your entrance once more, spread wide so he could watch your pussy swallow every inch he offered. He slipped inside just as easily as before, both of you letting out a long moan in harmony as your ass met his hips, cock hot and hard inside your throbbing walls. The stretch of him was so utterly delicious, you couldn’t stop yourself from bouncing back onto him just to feel it again, and then again.

Azriel threw his head back and allowed himself to revel in the pleasure as you set a steady pace, pussy greedily gobbling up every inch of his incredible length. You whimpered at the sensation of his tip prodding deep, deep within you– a spot you didn’t know existed revealing the very apex of your vulnerability, your pleasure. 

The noises you let loose as you sat back onto him each time you never knew you could make– the feeling of your bodies becoming one unlike anything you could have imagined. Your mate was just as deep in the tides of euphoria as you, rough hands steady as he guided you back and forth on his cock. You didn’t know how long you’d last, how long you’d been fucking back onto him, didn’t even know your name. All you could feel was pleasure, your mate, his pleasure, your bond. 

You felt that knot tightening in your stomach again. 

You cried out when you felt his thumb rove over your asshole, pressing firmly against you as he took control, his other hand holding your hips in place so he could set a punishing pace. The digit slipped inside and your eyes widened, the stretch foreign but oh so welcome. You started to shake, your orgasm nearing as he thrust hard and deep. 

Azriel panted as he watched you take him, the curve of your spine bent just right, your ass up and his hands on you– in you. Your soft little body taking his hard large one so well– fuck, he could feel your climax coming through the bond and that only catalyzed his own. Words evaded him this time, your emotions mingling with his along with his Illyrian hormones; everything felt that much stronger– overwhelming. He was so close– he needed you to cum, needed you to milk him again, his mate.

Shadows slithered up onto the table and twirled around your nipples, and you tensed, crying out at the surprise stimulation. The whirls then curled around your thighs and met your poor swollen clit, the cool sensation the final straw as you clenched down and came hard. 

You screamed his name, your orgasm barreling through you like never before. Your ears rang, your vision flashing white and your chest hot– searingly hot– so, so hot, and then–

Azriel cried out as he came too, pressing into you ‘til he was balls-deep, emptying into the depths of your womb. Your mate’s ecstasy careened over the fresh bond, and paired with the shadows that kept on caressing you, you sobbed as you came again, not even recovered from your initial orgasm. 

Your entirety felt as though it had been dunked under complete and utter bliss. Pure pleasure totally consumed you, leaving you totally helpless with no choice but to feel everything. 

Azriel struggled with the same intensity behind you, cock still pumping into you even if he had nothing left to give. His great wings shivered with ecstasy, eyes rolled back, fingertips digging into your soft flesh for dear life as he whimpered. 

Eventually the earth materialized beneath you and you all but collapsed onto the table. Azriel let out a grunt of agreement, chest still rising and falling in exertion. His hand left your ass and gripped the base of him as he pulled out, watching as his seed followed, dripping onto the table once more. There was not nearly as much as before, yet still a decent amount came out. He bit his lip, tracing the outline of your soiled cunt with the head of his swollen cock, studying your pink intimacy as your body quivered.

It was unnatural that he already felt the smallest itch to go again— but his cock had been rock hard since the season started and he doubted he would ever soften now that you had recognized him as your mate. At least now his body felt his own; the need to procreate fed and tamed, for how long, he didn’t know. 

Suddenly cool shadows enveloped the pair of you before depositing you both upon your bed in the adjacent room. Your head hit the pillow and you moaned in delight, exhaustion taking root in your core. 

Azriel lay beside you, face to face, a small smile on his lips as he watched your eyelids fight to stay open. You shivered and scooched closer to him, and he curled an arm around you, happy to comb a hand through your hair and hold you close. His shadows pulled a thin blanket over you, meandering across your exposed shoulder and hair with a calm kind of joy. 

“Rest now, my little mate,” he murmured, savoring the beat of your heart so close to his, the feeling of your warm breath against his chest. “You’ll need your strength if we’re to survive the rest of the season...” 

⤷ masterlist

[anoonesblog]

I'll suck your dick for a long breeding kink Simon story (ily) 👉🏻👈🏻

i ❤️ breeding kinks and u anon

CW: BREEDING KINK, titty sucking, PIV (No protection, pls use this irl), oral sex (f receiving), praise, slight daddy kink?, cream pie, lactation kink kinda, orgasms yippee

There was something primal inside of Simon, an urge that simmered through him like magma, coiling into every vein and muscle with a need to be filled. It consumed him wholly, wracking his brain with images and thoughts.

Images and thoughts of you, full and round with his seed, his child.

Simon never knew he wanted a family, always content with the one he met on the field. That was until he met you. You were a ray of light, always cheery and smiling, so feminine and beautiful. He needed you, and that was enough, but he wanted more.

He had never approached it with you before, but he was always so careful in case it scared you away. It all began when you were waiting in line at the supermarket, a newborn straddled to his mother’s hips as it cooed at you, slobber dribbling down its mouth as its eyes crinkled with laughter.  You were so quick to smile back, waving with glee as you pulled funny faces, a chorus of laughter soon following from the little one.

It only got worse when you were on your period, raving on about how you sometimes wanted to be pregnant just to get rid of it temporarily.

But Simon believes it really struck him when you were fresh out of the shower, pushing your belly out for fun to look as though you were expecting. You turned to him with cheery eyes and simply asked, “Do you think I would look good pregnant?”

Now, it was all the Lieutenant could think of.

You were a doll, always rushing around for him after he returned home, begging him to relax as you tended to his needs. You would be such a good mother.

“You want me to run you a bath? Give you a massage?” You murmured, rubbing his shoulders as you sat on his lap, thick hands rubbing at your thighs.

Simon groaned in a pleasured tone, nodding, “Only if you join me, sweet’art.”

The bathroom was thick with lavender, small rocks of decedent salts melting in the heated water, clouds of steam fogging up the mirrors as the fan overworked. Your body moulded to his as the bath swished around you, gently rocking against your upper back as your hands wrapped around his shoulders.  

Calloused hands rubbed at your hips, kneading the flesh delicately as he rested his head into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into your scent with a deep sniff.

“Ain’ I the luckiest man alive to have someone like you, you’re always so good to me,” Simon mumbled, voice slightly muffled by his lips pressed against your skin.

Your hands found the back of his neck, pulling him away from you with a smile as you kissed him, “I missed you, Si.”

“I missed you too. And these,” he snorted, groping at your tits as you giggled, working your fingers through his hair.

His cock grazed against your pussy, nudging your slit as you adjusted on top of him, lifting yourself slightly as he brought a breast to his mouth. His teeth grazed against the fat enjoying the way your breath hicked as his tongue swiped your hardened nipple, your fingers gripping into his shoulder with a profound tightness.

Simon was quick to work his palm against the other, enjoying your subtle moans as he tugged at the nipple, drawing the other one into his mouth with a harsh suck. You were so complicit to him, rocking your hips as you ground against his aching cock.

The man was practically slurring against your tits, switching between nipples as he kneaded the flesh. His voice was quiet as he breathed against your skin, barely audible, “Need to fill these up with milk, makes me go crazy thinking about how sweet you would taste.”

Your ears were hazed over with arousal as you only grumbled out a ‘huh’ immediately melting as he began to lick at your chest again. Your breasts were covered in spit, nipples erect and sore as you whined into the steamy air.

Simon’s hands were heavy as he pulled away from you, tugging you into the air with ease as water dripped along the floor, leading a trail to your bed before you were plopped down, wet body squealing against the sheets. He was quick to spread your thighs, lapping in the way your pussy throbbed as he tickled you with kisses, peppering over stretch marks.

Two fingers were quick to spread you open, folds sticky with your slick before the hotness of his mouth sealed it with a layer of spit, suckling at your sensitive clit as Simon growled against your cunt. Your mouth was tingling with cries, prickles of pleasure settling against a sheer layer of sweat that soaked your skin.

Your body was entranced by his tongue, writhing every-time he focused on your nub, your own hands playing with your tits as you rocked against his wet muscle. “F-Fuck Si- just like that-“

You were so needy, so desperate for release as he worked against your movements, thighs closing around his head as he muffled sweet moans into your flesh.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he slurred, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he nestled in closer to your pussy. His cock was leaky with anticipation, moist with pre-cum, edging him closer and closer the more noise you made.

Your orgasm was fast, hitting you with ease as your back arched, thighs shaking as you came with a squeal. His tongue was rapid, licking at your juices like a madman as you moaned, attempting to push his relentless attack away.

Simon pulled away, chin drenched in both spit and arousal as he licked his lips, staring at you with unmistakable hunger. He was quick to work your legs open again, heavy cock hanging low as he tugged at it, pressing the angry tip against your clit.

“Need to fuck you, doll,” he spat, rubbing his pre into your squelching folds as you nodded. No matter how many times you took him, the burn always ached through you, working into your muscles as it coiled into a hot pit in your stomach.

His grunt was loud as he bottomed out, resting in the warmth of your pussy as you stared up at him with tear-streaked eyes, your mouth stuck in an ‘o’ shape. You were so full, cock rubbing against your gummy walls with every slight movement, already kissing your neglected cervix.

“Please move- please-“

He obeyed, pulling out before rocking back into you with a quick thrust. Simon moved your legs, holding them over his shoulder as he pounded into you with a relentless force, giddy on your fucked-out expressions, incoherent blurts leaving your pouty lips.

“Take me so fucking good baby, make me never want to leave. Need to cum in this fucking pussy.”

You clenched. Hard.

Simon paused slightly, staring down at your squinted eyes, hands rubbing at your pillowy tits before you relaxed again.

“You want me to cum in you? Fuck a baby into this pretty cunt, hm?”

You babbled out a yes, tugging at your tender nipples as he growled into the air. His pace was brutal now, desperate for release as you milked around his length, pants leaving your mouth in shallow breaths.

“Gonna look so fucking sexy pregnant- all full with my child. Gonna make me a Daddy? Gonna fuck you until it sticks. That’s it baby - keep sucking me in, just like that.”

Simon was feral, grunting into the air as he fucked his cock into your wailing mound, slick stringing down his full balls. Your screams were loud as your head tilted to the side, tongue lapping from your mouth as you mewled in the pleasure.

“You’re gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you sweet’art? So fucking good- so fucking tight. Just need to breed this perfect pussy. All fucking mine.”

“Y-Yours, Simon. Please fill me up,” you said, voice cracking as you gripped onto his neck, pulling him flush against you into a mating press. Delicate fingers found your clit as you rubbed the wet bead, moaning against his mouth as he kissed you, an endless supply of adrenaline pumping through his body.

“You gonna give me as many kids as I want? Gonna keep you pregnant, so full and round with my babies. My perfect fucking girl.”

Your breath wedged in your throats as the coil grew in your stomach, sloppy motions rubbed against your clit as Simon fucked against your sweet spot.

“Milk my fucking cock, baby, that’s it- cum for Daddy.”

His words sent you into overdrive, your eyes rolling back as your noises halted, stuck in your oesophagus as your lungs jolted full of air. Simon was quick to follow, your clenches wrapping around his shaft as he came with a groan, hot spurts of come coating your walls as he gripped onto your neck.

The Lieutenant was reluctant to pull out, desperate to keep his seed inside of you, buried at the hilt. You whined at the loss of contact, thick cock leaving your aching mound with a huff as Simon rushed to the bathroom.

You melted into the sheets, gently stirring as he wiped your face and neck with a cool compress.

“Did so well for me,” he praised, rubbing at your cheek affectionately. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

Thick loads leaked from your exposed cunt, a hiss leaving Simon’s throat before two fingers pushed his work back in.

This man meant what he said, he wasn’t stopping until it stuck. Until you were pregnant and forever his.

[anoonesblog]

MASTERLIST

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Dark Kyle

Layover in London (NSFW)

Regency Gaz

Change my mind

John Price

Seducing Price (NSFW)

Advice from Price

Layover in Liverpool (NSFW)

Headcanon

Brat daughter

All too well

Pussy inspection

Bridgerton crossover

Rodolfo Parra

Sweet as cinamon

Jealous Rudy

Alejandros sister (NSFW)

John "Soap" MacTavish

Mrs. Mac Tavish (Angst)

Sauna Soap (NSFW)

Layover in Glasgow (NSFW)

Take me to church

Simon"Ghost"Riley

Jealousy Jealousy (NSFW)

Stripclub visit (NSFW)

Speak now

Layover in Manchester (NSFW)

Regency Simon

College Ghost

Traitor

Makarov

Makarov x Price daughter

Alex Keller

work is right now in process

POLY

Mai festival

Randome headcanons

Introducing Boyfriend

Birthday Girl (NSFW)

Fighting for you

Pregnant reader

POLY 141 and how it started

POLY 141 reaction of being the father

POLY 141 if they are not the father ( Angst)

POLY 141 x postpartum Depression

POLY 141 reaction to someone flirting with them

POLY 141 Reader on period

POLY 141 When you die because of them

You're losing me

Tf141 and their kinks

POLY Tf141 wedding

Barbie Drabble

COD Porn links

Other characters

Nikto ( heavy angst)

Longer fics

The selection

Traumatised reader who is a living weapon in a team with the tf141 (pairing is not confirmed at the Moment)

Mission save the human race (NSFW)

A fanfiction about being the last Woman in the Zombie Apocalypse

Highscool Au

Nightmares become true solider

Love triangle between Cap, Kyle and Reader with Ghoap Elements and Drama Drama Drama

Other fandome

Passenger

Eddie Wells x Reader

[anoonesblog]

something borrowed, something blue masterlist

john price, head of the price mafia family, needs a wife. luckily, simon riley has an unmarried sister and a need for resources. only problem? prices and rileys don't exactly mix well...

AO3 LINK

the proposal

the meeting

wedding week

the wedding

the honeymoon

a week of friendship

a bookstore in the making

mended bonds

an almost fresh start

past dreams and current nightmares

snitches and rats

...

this is an enemies to lovers, arranged marriage mafia au! john price x f!reader. reader is simon's half sister. all of our four boys will be featured (eventually). the "enemies" part is mutual disdain, not life or death enemies. lots of cheeky banter here. it is medium burn, since the lines of "hate" and passion can be easily crossed. the rileys are a smaller manchester gang and the prices are in charge of london's biggest mafia. i am american so some places/slang/logistics might be not be right!! don't hate me! i am googling manchester/london slang but if you have some recs, feel free to comment. more to come <3

tag: fic: sbsb mafia price

taglist is closed, pls turn on notifs <3

[anoonesblog]

simon "ghost" riley/john "soap" mactavish/f!reader words: 4.2k warnings: mmf, threesome, fingering, anal fingering, finger sucking, riding, creampie, doggy style, pet names (kitten, bonnie, angel, etc), dirty talk, breeding kink notes: this was written as part of the valentine's exchange from @bunnyreaper ♡ this is a gift for @auspicioustidings ♡ this is my first time writing a threesome, but i loved every moment of it ♡ header image is coral charm peony ii by mia tarney

The light of the dying sun slowly drains from the horizon, hues of blues, pinks, and purples following in its wake. There’s a gentle breeze coming through the open windows of the cottage; a little haven tucked away for you and yours. A smile plays at your lips as a small cow-shaped timer trills from its perch on the kitchen counter. You slip on a pair of oven mitts decorated with highland cattle, taking out your shortbread from the oven lest it bake for even a moment too long. 

Your boys were due to be home soon and this sweet treat was the last on your to-do list. 

They had left you earlier that week with a messy amount of kisses pressed to your cheeks and forehead and lips and anywhere they could reach, really. You had similarly returned the favor, finding your favorite lipstick to press marks onto Simon’s mask and Johnny’s glove before pressing other faded marks elsewhere. 

Before letting them cross the threshold back into the world — one that had tried to take them from you more times than you could count — you spritzed your favorite perfume on their wrists, sealing it with a kiss. The scent may fade with the mark, but they’ll know. 

Your heart ached the moment they left and its felt more numb in the days since, waiting dormant for them to return, to let you breathe fully knowing they’re there, that they hadn’t been taken from you. 

You inhale sharply to disperse your lingering worries. They’ve always, always come home to you. Today will be no different.

You leave the shortbread to cool on a rack as you gather your sugar and butter for the caramel next. 

The one perk of solitude means the abundance of time you had to practice. Johnny isn’t necessarily known for his patience — not when it comes to you or Simon — and he would’ve been quite the distraction. You burnt enough caramel without him, thank you very much. 

The soft, warm lights of the kitchen accompany you humming Simon’s favorite song, staring patiently at your pan as your sugar melts slowly, pulling you into a sugary-sweet trance. 

You lose yourself to your very serious task of making sure your caramel doesn’t burn, the melody of the song lost in your throat as your humming softens, concentration on anything outside your little kitchen waning. 

The click of the front door doesn’t phase you, and neither does the muffled thump of boots and bags. The sugar has started to dissolve and you can’t bear to lose your concentration now. 

“Bonnie!” 

You barely have time to register Johnny’s excited shout, head snapping up only moments before strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you up to spin you in a hug. 

“Johnny!” you laugh through your startled yelp, squirming in equal parts because you want to hug him properly and to get back to your caramel. 

“Johnny, the caramel!” you exclaim when his grip on you only tightens, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. 

“Ach, we dinnae caramel,” he says almost petulantly, voice lost against the fabric of your shirt. He does put you down — albeit reluctantly — but all you do is turn in his hold to lace your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer than before. 

“Missed ye,” he says as a soft kiss is pressed to your temple and you bury further into the crook of his neck. You’ve missed his warmth, and his scent, and the comfort of him and being his. 

You feel like you miss him all the time, but it’s the moments when they’re first back when you realize just how much, and the knot of worry slowly unfurls the longer you spend in his arms. 

He cradles the nape of your neck gently and you can hear the angry bubbling of your sugar — too far gone now to save — but you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself away from him for even a moment. 

“Where’s Si?” you ask against his skin when there’s a very distinct lack of your other half from the kitchen, craving his touch just as badly. 

It’s not real until you’ve seen them both, until you’ve touched them both, to know that they aren’t the phantoms that will sometimes accompany your dreams, your memories. 

“Think he went to the shower, hen,” comes Johnny’s soothing reply, pulling you back from your hiding spot to cradle your face in his hands. 

You used to hate how small you felt with them; how it felt like you were an accessory to them rather than part of them. 

Now you feel nothing but protected, cradled carefully in their hold, their own way of keeping you safe. 

You pout, glancing over his shoulder, down the hall to where the bedroom lay, seeing the faint hint of light from the bathroom spilling out. Johnny’s calloused thumb rubs over your bottom lip, before he crowds in close enough to give you  a soft kiss. 

“Without us?” you ask, and he snorts in reply. 

“Go on, then,” he says as he herds you towards the bedroom, a gentle pat to your ass to urge you along. “Go join ‘im.” 

Your pout deepens, holding out your hand for him. 

“Come with me,” you don’t whine, but you wiggle your fingers enticingly. You’ve been without them for so long, you don’t want to go another second without either of them. 

You’re selfish in very few ways, but are unapologetically so when it comes to your boys. 

Johnny steps into your space, a soft kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, before nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises with another lingering kiss, and you nuzzle into him momentarily before nodding and releasing his hold. Like a moth to a flame, you follow the path to the bedroom, seeing Simon’s clothes already tucked into the basket that’s specifically meant for their work clothes. Anything to separate who they are out there to who they are with you. 

You shed your own clothes, placing them in the empty hamper before stepping into the bathroom, the tile cold on your feet. 

He stands just beyond the glass, new scratches and bruises littering his skin. You’re going to kiss each and every one before you fall asleep tonight. You take a few moments to appreciate him; the broad expanse of his back, the slight layer of fat that surrounds his tummy, thick thighs that you love to bury yourself between, muscles moving like water. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” comes his teasing lilt as he turns to face you, a smirk plastered on his lips as he tilts his head in invitation. You bite your lip to hide your excitement, hurrying over to join him in the shower, taking his hand as he reaches for you, drawing you under the spray of the water.

“I have plenty of photos, actually,” you tease back. He tilts your chin up with a tattooed finger, leaning down to kiss you, before he moves to hold your throat delicately, keeping you in place. You inch up on your toes to press even closer, nipples pressed against his broad chest. 

“Not nearly enough, love,” he replies, not giving you a moment to answer before he draws you back into his mouth, licking into you and swallowing your gasps. You hum and lean into him, lacing your arms around his shoulders. One of his large hands splays against the middle of your back, the other trailing down your spine to the curve of your ass, pulling you in close. 

“Missed you,” you breathe out between kisses, as you cup his face to kiss him deeper, desperation thickening in your veins the longer you’re in his hold. “Missed you so much,” and your nails dig into his skin, adding a collection of your own marks to the others on his body. 

A warm body at your back makes you shiver, pulling away from your kiss to lean your head back on his shoulder. Simon cradles the back of Johnny’s head, kissing him softly. 

“You two need to clean up,” you murmur into Johnny’s jaw, lips grazing the stubble that’s been growing for a few days. It burns your lips, but you’re thankful for any reminder of them. 

“But you’re so comfortable,” Johnny practically whines as he leans further into you, arms tight around your waist, thankful Simon was there to provide stability or else you absolutely would’ve lost balance. 

“Johnny,” Simon admonishes gently, a bite to his ear in reprimand. Johnny squeezes your tummy tighter in reply, but turns to brush his nose gently over Simon’s. 

You wriggle from his grip, a hand on each of their forearms for balance, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s mouth before pressing one to Simon’s. 

“The quicker you get clean, the quicker you can join me on the bed,” is your parting words as you grab a fluffy towel from the rack, drying yourself before sauntering to the bedroom, diving into fresh sheets. 

You hear the soft murmurs of their conversation curtained by the fall of the water, rolling onto your back and arching up as you stretch, feeling as the tension seeps from your body, relaxing further into the mattress. 

“MacTavish!” comes Simon’s warning bark before a very excited, very wet Johnny launches himself into the bed at you, burrowing his face into your neck as you giggle, feeling the bubbles of body wash that he hadn’t bothered to rinse all the way off. 

He peppers your throat and jaw with kisses, teeth scraping every now and then before he reaches your mouth for a breathless kiss, and you cradle his head gently, nails grazing along the nape of his neck, feeling how his shaved sides have grown just a little since they went away. You’re sure he’ll let you clean him up proper tomorrow, but you don’t want you or either of your boys to leave the bed for the foreseeable future. 

“Simon’s grumpy,” he says against your cheek, and you can’t help but snort. 

“Can’t possibly imagine why,” you tease in return, gripping a longer part of his mohawk and giving a harsh tug, hoping Simon brings an extra towel or two with him because the bed is damn near drenched — and not in the fun way. 

“Absolute menace, that one,” Simon says as he comes from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips showing the tantalizing line of his tummy that you love so much. 

“Aye,” Johnny agrees with a cheeky smile, removing himself from you and sitting on his heels, settling himself over you to turn back and look at Simon. “But ye love me.” 

Simon comes forward with a fresh towel in hand, motioning for Johnny so he can dry him off. 

Simon doesn’t say anything in reply — he doesn’t have to, and both you and Johnny know that your declarations of love will never go unrequited — instead stopping at the edge of the bed and reaching for him. 

“Be a good pup,” you say as  you push him back with your foot, pressing him back into Simon’s hold so he can dry him off, ruffling his mohawk and wiping away the lingering drops that cling to his tanned skin, Johnny’s own marks and scars adorning his body. The intensity of the blue of his eyes feels like a shock of electricity, his gaze unwavering from yours as Simon tilts his head to the side to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, a soft I love you pressed to his skin. Simon’s lips graze over to his ear, murmuring something too low for you to hear. 

Johnny turns enough to catch Simon’s mouth in a rough, dirty kiss, teeth nipping his bottom lip before a tap to his ass pushes him into motion, crawling his way over the bed back to you. 

You arch up into his body as he slinks closer, a hand on your jaw pulling you into for a filthy kiss of your own. You whine against his mouth as Johnny pulls you up from where you lay on the bed, moving to take your place. 

Johnny settles you over his hips, blue eyes sparkling in the lingering light of the bathroom, a fond smile painting his lips. As cute as he looks — and he looks adorable — the thick heat of his cock resting between your legs makes you ache, makes you want him to take what he wants. His nails dig into your calves as he anchors you against him, rocking his hips against yours, cock moving through your slick and catching on your clit. 

“God, we missed ye,” Johnny sighs out as he digs his nails into your skin, and you bite your lip against the sting of his possession. 

“Never heard the end of it,” Simon says as he comes around the side of the bed, one leg braced on the mattress, the towel parting enough to show his aching cock. 

“Did you take good care of our pup?” you ask through a gasp as you turn to the blonde, eyes fluttering as Johnny’s cock catches at your entrance. 

“Always, love,” he promises, Simon crowding in close as you pull his towel loose, blindly tossing it from the bed as he kneels on the bed at your side, swallowing your next gasp as he presses his lips to yours. 

“Don’t like it when you leave,” you pout against his lips as he moves to kiss down your jaw and throat, trailing his lips over your shoulder. Your head tilts to the side, wanting his teeth in your skin. 

“We’re here, darlin’,” Johnny soothes as a hand grazes up your side to grip your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until it hardens under his touch. You lay above him, arms braced by his head as you catch him in a kiss, happily letting him take control as his tongue licks deep into your mouth. “We’re not going anywhere,” is his whispered promise and you just nod in agreement as you press your mouth back against his, unable to get enough of his touch, of his taste. 

“Missed your cock,” you whimper with a sharp roll of your hips, Simon settling behind you, hands on your waist as his chin tucks over your shoulder, watching your slick soak Johnny’s cock. 

“Gorgeous thing,” is Simon’s soft purr of praise, one of his hands slipping down the line of your tummy until he can press two fingers against your clit, his other hand grazing up to hold your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder. 

“Dreamed of your cunt, bonnie,” Johnny pants from beneath you, feeling his cock pulse with each of your thrusts. His fingers grip your hips tight, and Simon tuts at him from his perch over your shoulder. 

“Don’t cum, pup,” and Johnny only whines in reply, nails biting into your skin. “Wanna see your cum spill from her pretty pussy.” 

You’re breathless, need and want coursing through your blood, desperate for something more. 

“Please,” you mewl as you try to paw for Johnny’s chest, but Simon’s hold on your throat keeps you in place. 

One of Johnny’s hands grip you hard enough to lift you from his lap, his other fisting the root of his cock so he can guide you down onto him slowly, your pussy fluttering as you sink deeper in his lap until he’s completely sheathed. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, and you feel the way his legs shake as he holds off his release. He looks gorgeous beneath you, head thrown back against the pillows, the line of his throat exposed and mournfully free of marks from either you or Simon. 

“How’s she feel?” Simon asks, dipping his fingers lower to feel for himself  where you and Johnny are connected. 

“L-like a fuckin’ dream,” comes his panted reply. 

“You wanna fuck ‘er?” he asks, like you aren’t even here. 

You feel like you aren’t, lost in the pleasure of Johnny’s cock nestled deep inside you, stuffing you full. You don’t think Johnny is capable of words after a week without you and your touch, but soon he starts a slow grind of his hips up into you, the crown of his cock pressing against your cervix. 

You cry out in pleasure as he continues the slow roll of his hips, fighting the urge to beg him to fuck you rough. This is for him just as much as it is for you. 

Simon’s grip on your throat remains, thick fingers collaring you, keeping you safe. The two fingers he used to rub your clit, to feel where Johnny was plugged into you, grazes your lips. You willingly open your mouth, swallowing down his fingers as best you can with him behind you. 

“Did you miss me too, darling?” he asks, though you can feel his smirk pressed against your skin, knowing you can only gurgle your answer around his fingers, spit spilling out from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, kitten,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder, pressing his fingers even deeper, causing you to choke, your throat working around his digits. “I missed you too.” 

He withdraws his fingers as you gasp for breath, losing it the next second when Johnny snaps his hips up hard against you. His soaked fingers trail down your spine to your other hole, the tight ring of muscle fluttering as he circles it, just pressing the tips of his fingers against it. 

“Johnny couldn’t stop talking about your ass,” Simon says against your skin. Your eyes flash to Johnny’s, glazed and dark, but his eyes are locked to Simon’s. “Told me how warm it is,” he continues, very carefully pressing one of his thick fingers against your rim as you beg yourself to relax. “How every single inch of you,” he says as he slowly begins to pump his finger deeper and deeper with each word, “is meant for us.” 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, Simon,” comes Johnny’s choked moan, “she’s squeezin’ me so tight.” 

Simon hums in reply as he continues his leisurely pace of fucking his finger into you. “Wonder what my cock would feel like in here,” he muses, continuing a line of kisses across your shoulders. He digs his teeth in deep into your shoulder, a shaky moan rising in your throat as he wiggles a second finger into the tight ring of muscle. 

“T-too much,” you whine out, asshole fluttering desperately around his fingers. Johnny’s cock was bigger than Simon’s two fingers — but it had been well over a week since either of them had touched you there. 

He stills as Johnny leans up to kiss along your collar and chest, tongue licking across your nipples. 

“Give me a color, love,” he asks gently, the fingers around your throat loosening so it’s easier for you to breathe. Johnny’s soft pants ghost against your skin as he holds your waist gently, ever so patient with you. 

“Bonnie?” comes Johnny’s soft prompting, laced with concern when you didn’t answer. 

“Green,” you whisper out after another moment of pause, and Simon’s answering good girl makes you melt further into their touch. 

Sweet, precious girl Johnny whispers against your collar, one arm laced around your waist as his other hand reaches for Simon’s hip. 

You bite your lip as tears thicken your throat. Your head is muddy with pleasure and love for your two boys, not realizing how much you’ve missed them until now, their soft praise spoken against your skin, kisses and devotion pressed to each exposed inch that they can reach. 

Simon carefully begins to thrust his fingers into you, sinking deeper each time until he’s able to curl and thrust without any resistance. Heat licks deep in your belly, broken moans catching in your throat with each expert thrust of his fingers. 

You vaguely hear him ask Johnny for the lube, hearing the pop of the cap as he squirts a generous amount into his hand, coating his length before smearing whatever is left over your hole, empty now without his fingers. 

He drags the tip of his cock over your hole, teasing the relaxed ring of muscle, watching as it looks like your hole is trying to draw him in, desperate. 

“Think you can take me, love?” comes his question pressed against your cheek, and you lace one arm back around to hold the nape of his neck, a soft yes falling from your lips. 

One thing you’ve learned from your boys is they always want to hear you. They love how vocal you are — Johnny especially — but hearing how badly you crave them, need them makes something primal in them snap, wanting to give you everything you beg for and more. 

“Slowly now,” he says as he pushes the crown past your ring of muscle, and you swallow thickly, nails digging into any part of Johnny you can reach. Johnny does his best to distract you with soft praises as Simon slowly sinks into you, pausing halfway when he feels you trembling under his touch. 

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’,” he groans out, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“Feels good, don’t she, Si?” 

Simon inhales sharply, raising his head enough to pull Johnny in for a kiss as your nails scratch at the base of Simon’s neck, leaning back against him as you watch your boys indulge in each other. 

“Incredible, just like you said,” he agrees with one more kiss, teeth nipping sharply at Johnny’s bottom lip. 

Johnny leans back down against the sheets, pulling you forward. Simon follows carefully, allowing Johnny to adjust your hips so it’s easier for him to sink the rest of the way into your hole. 

“Angel of our lives, ah swear,” Johnny says as he begins to carefully thrust up into you, knocking the wind from your lungs when his sharp thrust catches that squishy spot deep inside you that makes you keen and clench around them, Simon’s moan reverberating against your back. 

Simon carefully ruts into you, timing himself with Johnny’s thrusts, until you can’t think of anything more than the heat coursing through you, sparking and igniting like a wildfire. 

You can’t think of anything other than their names, but after a few minutes, Simon braces one of his feet on the bed so he can thrust in harder, rougher, and your voice cracks with how hard you cry out, lost to the pleasure. 

“Wanna stuff you full,” Johnny babbles beneath you, his thick thumb moving down to rub your clit, touch electric and causing you to moan and shudder in his hold. “Watch our cum drip from you until you’re full of our babe.” 

Simon’s free hand settles over your tummy, thumb stroking in surprising gentleness compared to the absolute filthy mess they’re making of you. 

“You want that, lovie?” Simon asks from behind you, his question punctuated with a sharp thrust, the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your ass accompanying the sounds of Johnny’s cock drenched in your slick. 

You’re helpless and reduced to nodding and whimpering, clenching hard around them as you whine out about giving them a baby. 

“Christ, love,” Johnny grits out before he’s spilling deep inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He grips the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss, a mixture of panting his moans against your mouth and swallowing your own. 

Simon’s fingers are back on your clit, your nub hard and sensitive, sensitive to his touch. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out as you reach your peak, Simon buried deep inside you as his grinds, cock pressed deep inside you. 

Johnny’s cock pulses with your orgasm, walls fluttering and spilling your release over him, the force of it causing his cum to spill out from where Johnny’s still plugged deep. 

“Atta girl,” Simon snarls as he buries his teeth in your shoulder with his own release, your eyes rolling back as you feel each thick pulse of his cum. He growls as he minutely thrusts into you, his own cum spilling from where his cock is nestled in your ass, making a mess of Johnny beneath you two. 

Simon draws his teeth from your shoulder, soothing  over the wound with his tongue as it pulses with your heartbeat. Soft kisses are placed along the line of your shoulders and close to your throat as you settle into their touch. 

He gently draws you to him, pressing a significantly softer kiss to your lips as your breathing evens out. You press your forehead to his to bask in his warmth, his nose pressed to your cheek as his nuzzles into your skin before carefully pulling out, his cum slipping from your hole. He helps keep you in place for Johnny to pull out as well, before Johnny is gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and running his fingers delicately along the line of your back. 

You hate how empty you feel without them, but they’re right there, close enough for you to touch, for you to know they’re here with you, home, finally. 

You nuzzle into Johnny’s hold, already the edges of sleep drawing you deep. Simon settles behind you, a thick arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, to them. You murmur something about ruined caramel, but the press of their lips across your cheeks and forehead are all you need, finally allowing you to rest in the comfort of their arms. 

[anoonesblog]

Caffè Crema

[Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader]

It was all fine and dandy between you two. You fed him and he helped you move heavy furniture. Then he comes to you with a question because you'd been unknowingly avoiding his advances.

"Is it the scars?"

And you're not really sure how to answer.

[5.2k words]

[Smut, MDNI]

Chapter 2 "Tea and Sugar Cubes"

By ‘come over for lunch sometime’ apparently, Simon understood showing up at your door exactly at twelve the next day. Of course, he hadn’t brought anything with him and you knew it wasn’t because he was stingy, but because he didn’t get invited randomly to nice events such as a lunch enough to know what to bring. He’d shown up in another ratty hoodie and worn-out jeans, his infamous skull facemask obscuring the lower part of his face, his disheveled blond locks tucked under a beany.

Despite the unexpected visit, you welcomed him with a warm smile and even warmer intentions.

He looked very much out of place once he set foot in your small apartment because it was a girl space, adorned with fuzzy couch cushions and color-coded Tupperware. Everything was in its place, everything was somehow delicate. Even your toilet had smelled nice when he’d entered it to take a piss. And of course, when he’d come to the kitchen to wash his hands, your soap was pink.

Simon felt transported into a whole other dimension as soon as he’d entered your humble home, he felt bad for leaving his muddy boots in your corridor as if they’d spread a disease through your sanctuary. He’d offered to leave them outside your door, but after much insisting on your part, he’d left them as they are – a stark contrast to the pretty little sneakers you most likely slipped on in haste to go to the store.

And sure, it was a bit unnerving to have a stranger lingering in your home as you prepared lunch for both of you, but your heart wouldn’t budge when you thought of gently escorting him out. He looked so tired, the discolored crescent moons under his eyes were prominent, the lines on his features looked deeper than they had been yesterday. He looked like he needed a good meal and a good nap after, a hot shower too.

You’d glance at him every so often, picking up the décor from the coffee table in the living room and inspecting it, tilting his head ever so lightly to the side, like a confused pup, before setting it back down and picking another. You’d left the kitchen door wide open to monitor him, but the more you looked, the sadder the picture of him became. You’d throw a comment his way, asking him about how his night had been, if he’d had any breakfast before coming, if he’d like to have a coffee, only to receive one-word responses.

Unfortunately, once you were slaving over the stove you couldn’t peek at him without looking suspicious so you just let him be. Surely, he hadn’t come to rob the place. He didn’t look like the type, seemed too polite in his rough and tough way.

Soon enough your mundane questions received no answers and despite knowing you might look like an anxious rat turning around, you did so anyway.

Only to find him asleep on your sofa.

He was curled up like a fetus, one arm tucked under his head with his face smushed in one of your pretty cushions. He was too big for the couch, that much was evident, he looked almost comical for napping on your girly sofa if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d been so tired he’d fallen asleep in a stranger’s apartment. You took pity on him, of course, you did, and brought over a blanket from your bedroom to lay over him.

He didn’t even budge when you tucked him in, only murmuring a sleepy curse before his light snoring began again.

It broke your heart when his meal was finally ready and you woke him up with a gentle shake to his shoulder. The poor thing looked so disoriented that you had to bite into your cheek just to keep from giggling. He scarfed down the plate of food you’d prepared for him so fast that you worried he might choke. He didn’t though, he literally licked the plate clean, stood up, thanked you for the food, and headed for the corridor to put on his boots and leave.

Despite the weirdness, you didn’t want to seem desperate, chalking up his sudden departure as him being busy. You let him leave with a soft chirp for him to stop by any time because he looked like he needed it. You’d curled up on the couch after, your lunch forgotten, and breathed in his faint scent of cigarettes and musk as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Ghost just kept coming after that day, unannounced, like a stray who’d finally found a home. After the third or fourth time he’d showed up for you to basically feed, bathe and let him nap, you started to find him work around the apartment.

“Simon, can you move the fridge so I clean behind it?” you ask in a sugary voice, timidly standing at the entrance to the living room because you liked looking helpless in front of him. Something about male pride and all that.

He got up without a word and stalked to your kitchen before moving the fridge with ease.

“Good ‘nough?” He glanced up at you, still crouched with his hands gripping the underside of the fridge.

And maybe you were a bit of an ass for shaking your head, but you liked watching him doing everyday tasks and flexing his strength for you.

“Little more to the left, please.”

He did as he was told and much to his surprise, you were beaming.

“Thank you, Darling.” You coo and pat the rumpled tuft of hair on his crown before he stands up to his full height.

A shudder runs up his spine at your gentle gesture and soon enough he’s moving furniture and reaching the top shelves in your kitchen before you can even ask. Anything to get another dose of praise and a mellow, appreciative squeeze to his arm or pat on the head. And Simon wasn’t one to easily open up and speak of what he likes and doesn’t, and he’d be caught dead before he admitted to your soothing gestures causing his entire body to tingle, but the fact was that they did and he was addicted from day one.

He liked your cooking, loved your praise and smile, and that was enough to keep him coming. As his visits continued, he started bringing offerings – from a steaming mug of coffee from the café you’d first met at, to flowers.

“My mate said you might like these.” Were his words as he thrust the bouquet in your arms and headed towards your living room without another word.

You’d pressed those flowers in an old book lying around, memorializing them while he’d been curiously peeking over your shoulder, with one large hand resting absentmindedly on your hip.

Then there was that one night when you’d offered him a slice of cake for dessert after a filling dinner. Typical him had accepted the offer and wolfed down the treat within two bites. Meanwhile, you’d been doting silently on him from the other end of the table, snorting when he looked up at you with icing stuck to his upper lip. You’d reached over to wipe him clean only to have him lean into your touch, thinking you were trying to cup his cheek. He’d avoided your gaze like the plague when he’d realized what you were doing while you tried to keep your little heart from shattering at his touch-starved demeanor.

Touches became not only a show of praise, but a frequent display of affection after that incident. Whether you were watching a movie on your couch or you were cooking something up in the kitchen, you made sure there was always some sort of physical connection between you two and since Ghost hadn’t protested, you’d taken that as a sign to keep at it.

Soon enough, quiet dinners extended to watching movies together afterward, which would, in itself, end up with the old soldier snoozing on your lap, his nose buried in the plushness of your thighs as his large arms encircled your waist, locking you in place until he woke up. You didn’t have the guts to stir him awake considering you didn’t know if the last time he managed to get shuteye was two days ago on that very same sofa or the night before at his base. You’d just card your fingers through his hair and rake your nails over his scalp while he purred at you in his sleep.

He told you little about himself and his work, but from what you’d gathered, he came from a troubled home, dragged an awfully dark past with him, and had very few people he considered friends. Soap was one of them. You’d actually laughed when he’d first mentioned Johnny’s callsign, refusing to believe him until he’d pulled out his phone and called the bloke to confirm.

In a way, you pitied him. Whatever he’d gone through was unimaginable to you, you could see it resurface in his eyes sometimes when you left him by himself to tend to chores or to return to work on your laptop. You tried to help, anchor him back as soon as his mind started drifting, and for the most part, you succeeded. But some days were tougher than others and besides being a silent, warm, physical manifestation of comfort for him, with arms draped over his neck and cheek pressed into his crown as he had his face buried in your sternum, there was nothing more to do.

He had to ride out the nightmares alone in his mind.

Despite PTSD constantly nipping at his heels, Simon looked better. The dark bags under his eyes began to subside the more he stopped by, the defeated slope of his shoulders evolved into a relaxed slump. The best part was that he’d put on weight under your constant pestering to eat more. You could tell, especially when he was clad in nothing but an old tanktop while helping you around the apartment, there was a thin layer of fat splayed over the hard plates on his stomach. His chest had grown, the biceps on his arms weren’t just two balls of muscle stuffed under his battle-scarred skin, there was more meat there now.

And maybe it was because he’d figured out that you didn’t expect anything in return for your kindness, or maybe your cooking tasted that good on his tongue, or maybe he really liked the feeling of your soft curves pressed into him whenever you were curled up on the sofa. But he’d shown up sporting a duffle bag in one hand one day. He’d set it down by his feet while you’d eyed him curiously, returned your gaze with one of evenness and calm, as if his actions made so much sense, and then he’d walked past you to go wash his hands.

He just…didn’t leave after that.

Still, ever the gentleman of few words, he’d taken it upon himself to sleep on the couch. As generous as you were, the bed was something you weren’t willing to give up, and thankfully he’d understood that fact without you having to voice it.

You’d not heard a single complaint from him for anything – not when you’d burned the lasagna that one time, or when you’d asked him to practically rearrange your whole kitchen because you didn’t have the strength to do so by yourself. It was a blessing.

What wasn’t a blessing was how blind you were to Ghost’s attempts at seducing you. When he’d practically picked you up and laid you on his lap during movie night, you’d chalked it up to him needing physical contact because he was having a bad episode. When he’d passed you in the kitchen with the intent to get to the fridge, he’d made sure your bum got the full package of his dick glide past it. He probably hadn’t had enough space to pass, so you’d moved closer to the counter, completely missing his intention. When he’d come out fresh from the shower, covered in droplets of water that just accentuated his mouthwatering physique and with skin steaming and glinting with cleanliness, he’d stood before you in nothing but a towel around his hips. His excuse was that he needed a towel for his hair as well and despite that he was puffed up and showing off like a peacock, you’d missed it. You’d gotten up in a hurry, worrying that he’d get chilly and catch a cold if he stood as such any longer. You’d rushed to find him something for his hair, unintentionally stomping over his plan of mesmerizing you with his provocative state.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong. Everything he’d tried on you had worked on other birds in the past. So why were you not falling for it? Were you just not interested? Was he mixing up the signals?

Ghost was at a loss.

So much so that he’d finally had enough of your ignorant nature and simply brought it up.

“Think I’m ugly, Bird?”

You pause halfway into scrolling on your phone, thumb hovering over the screen, frozen. Your eyes lift and roll to the left and you look at Simon with the most dumbfounded expression you could muster.

You’d just finished lunch, now both lounging in your living room as you tapped away on your phone while he silently watched a random documentary on the telly, sprawled over the sofa with you, curled up at his feet, knees to your chest and squishing a pillow under your chin.

“What?” You blurt out and shift in your spot, being mindful not to crush his toes even though he’d tucked them under your bum to keep warm. You shake your head, blink at him a few times as if he’d just thrown the most inappropriate comment your way, and repeat: “I’m sorry, what?”

Still as a rock, while propped up one elbow, he doesn’t say anything more, patiently waiting for a proper reply. You ogle him, left partly speechless by his sudden inquiry, and silently set down your phone on the coffee table before puffing out an awkward breath and crossing your fingers in your lap.

“No, of course, not. What?” You let out an uneasy snort, thumbs dancing over each other to ease the embarrassment forming in your gut. “Why would you ask me that?”

There’s a moment of nothingness that passes, with only the TV buzzing in your ear as you stare at each other. As always he’s as relaxed as can be when under your roof, slack against the cushions while you’re coiled like a violin string, waiting for him to clarify.

He picks up the remote to lower the volume, maybe buying himself time before continuing the tense conversation.

“Don’ wanna sleep with me is all.”

“I – Excuse – ” You lean closer as if you’d not heard the words that had tumbled out of his mouth so casually.

“ – Is it the scars?”

You nearly pounce at his assumption, ready to smother him in tender kisses and gentle caresses until he forgets what he was even talking about. But you don’t because you worry how he’ll react to sudden movements, you don’t want to trigger him into military mode. So instead, you slowly scoot over and reach for his hand, curling yours in his calloused palm and locking your fingers together before giving them a squeeze.

“Simon…no.” A mournful smile speckles onto your lips as you speak, a certain melancholy to your usually warm eyes. Your answer gives no room for protests or objections, as simple as it is, it carries enough weight to snuff out the demons of uncertainty that have been plaguing him. “Not gonna lie, it’s insulting you’d even think that.”

“What’s the problem then?” He asks, voice hoarse and rough, the usual combo that sends pleasant chills down your spine and butterflies fluttering through your stomach. He sits up, hand still locked with yours as he comes to loom over you.

“There isn’t any!” You all but whine in barely sustained aggravation and grip his shoulder, shaking it gently, emphasizing your words with each weak tug and push. “I just…didn’t think. I mean… I’m happy to just have you here, Simon. I didn’t think you wanted to…” The words get caught in your throat as your pulse picks up pace. You rip your eyes away from his chocolate browns and sigh something defeated.

How was this even a problem at the moment? How hadn’t you picked up on his hints?

Thinking back, you saw the signs, the not-so-subtle gestures he displayed to show his attraction for you, that he wanted more. You’d been too worked up in trying to get him to have enough rest and feed him, offer a pleasant home for him. In your mind, he’d registered more as a beaten stray dog than a human with feelings and desires.

He was literally a grown man with a dick and you’d been treating him like a child.

It was embarrassing, hard to swallow the more your memories pile up your head.

“You think a bloke’s just gonna move in with a pre’y bird like you and not wanna shag?”

He pushes you back with his mass then, eases you back into the cushions with one arm gripping onto the armrest of the sofa to steady himself, making sure he doesn’t crush you under his weight.

“I just didn’t give it much thought.” You force out a murmur, yielding to him until you’re stuffed into the sofa, fidgeting beneath his bulk with your knees protectively lifted over your chest and ankles crossed over your sex. “I didn’t want to push in case you just wanted comfort.”

Your attention turns to the TV screen and you focus on the fleeting pictures there, still refusing to face him properly as both your bashfulness and embarrassment flare inside your chest. It’s too much, there’s just not enough space for your pounding heart, hyperventilating lungs, and emotions under your ribcage, you feel like bursting any moment now. But it doesn’t happen, instead, you're trapped beneath a man you barely know who’s made your home his as well.

It all comes flooding the more you’re left to explore the logical side of your brain.

You knew barely anything about him, hadn’t seen his face fully bared once, hadn’t known him for more than a month or two. He was just a random bloke you’d bumped into at the coffee shop and now, fast forward, he was living with you. Yet your heart lurches with excitement and heat begins to gather between your trembling thighs at his actions.

“Piss off with that shite.” He grumbles bitterly before sliding one hand under your calf and pulling your legs apart only to settle comfortably between them, trapping you beneath him. “Wanted to bend ya ove’ the counter moment I saw you fussin’ ‘round in the kitchen cuz of me.”

One large palm comes to knead at the supple flesh of your breast. He hisses in delight at your lack of a bra and dips his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent with delight. Of course, you weren’t wearing a bra, you were home. He was the intruder here, or was.

Intruder no more with his toothbrush in your bathroom and his clothes in your closet. A toothy smirk tugged on his thin lips at the realization.

Should have never been nice to him in the first place. Shouldn’t have let him inside your home.

Now you were stuck with him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You mewl beneath him, words muffled into his shoulder as you tentatively wrap your legs around his waist, hands coming to rest on his back and toying with the idea of pulling off his sweater.

He picks up on your tugs all too quickly and is more than willing, pulling away from you enough to discard the article before squishing you under his bare chest. It takes him to run his clothed mouth over the column of your neck once before you’re purring against him, clutching at the vast expanse of his marred flesh, nails catching ever so gently on the swells of his scars and making him bite back grunts of approval.

“Thought I’d be a gentleman and wait till you came t’ me.” He’s rasping softly in the shell of your ear as his rough, needy paw travels down to your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your loose top and greedily mapping out the skin beneath. The fabric bunches up under his exploration and soon enough he’s pulling it over your head and you’re too lost in the heat of him to protest. “Didn’t expect you to be this bloody daft though.”

He presses the growing tent in his sweats against your pulsing heat, earns a choked-out moan in return that ripples through his body and awakens his skin with goosebumps. You jolt in his arms at the sudden feeling, only to be stilled in place by muscular arms.

He’s scarfing down your scent like a man nearly drowned and, having pulled his mask up, lapping at your neck with fervor, crooked nose pressing into your pulse point.

“Pre’y bird…too busy takin’ care o’ me to take care o’ yerself.”

Your back arches up, breasts squishing against his chest, skin on skin, the contact making his mouth water as he continues to slowly grind against you.

And you’re so drunk on him that you’re a hair’s breadth away from tugging your shorts down and pushing his head between your thighs. But a part of you refuses to relent, the same part that keeps screaming in the back of your head that you know nothing about him except his name and occupation, which is your God damned home.

You’ve had flings before, one-night stands, but none of the men you’d been with were anything like him. He was intimidating, a giant of a man that could overpower you so easily it was laughable. He was fucking dangerous, he was lethal, and he was currently grinding against you like he’d not seen a woman before in his life.

“You alright?” Simon halts his hungry nipping on your skin and leans back enough to look you in the eye. A hand goes up to steady your trembling arm that you’d no idea was trembling in the first place. “You’re shaking…”

You offer him a wry smile, spitting a soft half-truth between chattering teeth. Technically you are cold, but it wasn’t the reason for your trembling. He was. His presence.

“Just cold…”

He snorts at your lie, but still tugs the discarded blanket on the backrest of the couch over his shoulders, cocooning you completely as he settles back above you, pressing you down into the cushions.

“Don’ worry, pre’y girl.” His nose brushes against yours as he slowly lowers himself, mouth and stubbly chin brushing over your sensitive skin. “I’ll keep you warm.”

While one arm stays glued to his back you let the other one wander, settling on his cheek, fingers dipping under his mask and making him swallow back a grunt as he shudders.

Despite your mind hollering and red light blaring in your mind, you’re the one that seals your mouths together, pressing your lips against his and flicking your tongue over the scar running down to his jaw. He snarls in your mouth, tongue darting out to fetch yours when his fingers dip beyond the hem of your shorts only to find you already dripping for him.

When he starts rubbing gentle circles into your swollen clit, you see stars in the back of your eyelids. Instinctively, you try to close your thighs around his hand, ending up only squeezing him closer by the waist. A heady moan makes you break the kiss, lips swollen and glistening with saliva, heavy-lidded eyes looking up at him in a haze of need and something Ghost refuses to acknowledge as trust. But your pouty expression and quacking thighs are enough to push him past the little patience he’d been clinging to.

He hooks his sopping fingers on the waistband of your bottoms before tugging them down your legs, a satisfied grumble vibrating deep in his chest as you wiggle along to hasten the process. Dark orbs peek from under blond lashes as he takes the sight of you, with only a thin slip covering your leaking sex. His canines slip from under his upper lip as he watches you cover your chest and mumble out that you’re cold again, face turned away from him as your cheeks heat up.

“ ‘S okay, luv.” He coos and dives back in, surging with satisfaction when you cling to him the moment he was in reach. “ ‘M here. Got you.”

He doesn’t even bother to take off your panties, just moves the soaked strip aside before shrugging his sweatpants down enough for his pulsing hardness to spring free. And you’re a curious creature, your eyes slip down to look at him ready and waiting, hovering over your pretty cunt, tip swollen and leaking already.

“I’m not safe.” I stammer out while swallowing back a copious amount of saliva at the sight of him. “You gotta – ”

“ – I’ll pull out.” He reassures you hurriedly before he’s already sheathing himself into your welcoming heat.

Ghost’s jaw clenches with forced-back moans as he sinks into your fluttering pussy. Remnants of you slick dampen the thick dark hairs at his base when he finally manages to bottom out inside you, forced to bully his cock through your tight walls until the tip kisses your cervix and makes your toes curl.

His hands found their way under your ass, cupping both firm globes of flesh and pulling you flush against him. You come face to face with his chest, the difference in size making your coupling a bit awkward in this position, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In all honestly, the ghost of a smile on his lips told you that he likes hovering over you like this while you took whatever it was he gave you.

And you want to scold yourself for taking him so willingly, for your body betraying you so quickly when he’d technically not given you anything besides a few tiny gifts that hadn’t even been his idea. But you can’t help but whine up at him instead, greedy little sounds of protest because he’s waiting for you to adjust to being split open on his cock instead of just fucking into you and giving you what you need.

You’re wrapped around him like a snake, muscles contorting and fingers clutching at the slope of his spine as he starts to gently rock his hips, balls slapping against your flesh and making you pant in anticipation of how full they were.

“Si – ”

He kisses you with a desperation that knocks the air out of you, curling in on himself and propping you up enough to silence you before his name slips past your lips. He readily swallows your moans, letting you sob on his tongue as he works you open with thrusts far too tender for your liking.

It’s a death sentence, hearing his name honeyed by your sweet voice, especially now. He wouldn’t be able to take it, would crumble in your arms and slip past your fingers like sand.

Despite his rush earlier, his restrain told you more than you wanted to know. That he’s not just fucking you dumb into your cute little sofa, that there’s more there, an intimacy you’d been too kind to bring up to him in exchange for the efforts you’d poured into him because that’s what you’d wanted from the start. The knowledge turns your legs to pudding and you find yourself struggling to keep hold of him as he rocks into you.

With a teary-eyed expression and a cry from a particularly angled thrust, you free his back from the onslaught of your nails and reach between your bodies to press down on your neglected clit, seeking relief from the tension building up painfully in your belly.

He smacks your hand away with a grunt, dips his fingers between your folds instead and glares down at you as if you’d just made a grave mistake.

It was his job to make you come. He was to have your toes curling, you shouldn’t have to do anything, and the fact that you’d tried to get yourself off while he was right there was insulting. The rough pads on his fingers circle your sensitive flesh and you’re clawing at him in pleasure, blubbering out loving incoherences that make his ears tingle.

He’s not fast enough to lock his mouth over yours and swallow the broken calls of his name when your climax washes over you. You’re too slippery beneath him, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat as your cunt locks around him like a vice and refuses to let him pull out the whole way. Writhing as you are, he barely manages to lock you securely beneath him as he speeds up, spurred on to near madness by your breathless, throaty call, his name on your tongue turned on loop and the precious words of encouragements dusted in between.

It’s too intimate, his real name being moaned in such a way, hits too close to home, does something deep in his gut and makes his legs weak. His tempo becomes uneven, hips sputtering, slapping against yours as he drives himself in until his tip is pressing against your core. It feels surreal, everything around him does – your touches, ever gentle even when you claw at him, your heat, willing and slick just for him, your voice ringing so potently in his ears it makes his teeth chatter.

It’s all too much, your existence overwhelms him, all of his sense and soon enough he’s forgotten that he has to keep you safe, has to pull out of your addictive heat. Instead, he’s rutting against you viciously, fangs bared and eyes closed as he drowns in your pleas for more and the weak fists that are thumping against his chest.

You’re in no better state, urging him on and coiling around him with a promise that you’ll take a pill first thing in the morning. Your high-pitched howling shatters into gaspy sobs when he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder and snarls as he jerks his hips. His spent floods your welcoming womb, his balls sucked dry by your convulsing cunt. He’d nearly fucked you off the couch with how selfishly brutal he’d gotten in the end.

Spurts of cum seeped out of you when he begrudgingly pulled out, a whine clawing its way up your throat when you feel his shaky fingers gathering up the leaking fluid before pushing it back inside you. He clambers down next to you, rolls on his side and crushes you against his chest and you know better than to protest even though you’d love to take a nice hot shower right about now.

He eyes you with something akin to tenderness before tucking you under his chin and pressing his nose into your dampened hair.

It’s fine.

You’d take a pill tomorrow.

<<< Chapter 1

Chapter 3 >>>

Masterlist

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[anoonesblog]

Desperate Times (Azriel x Archeron!Reader)

Summary// While tending to Elain's garden you come across a mysterious flower with an even more mysterious pollen. As the effects of it start to hit you, you have to fend for yourself to get the edge off...or do you?

K!inktober Prompt: SEX POLLEN // Creampie // Sexting

(HERE IT IS!! 5,423 words and we have arrived. This story is obviously 18+ and contains LOADS OF SMUT!! So minors, DNI! However, I basically wrote a mini story so it also contains some major fluff and minor angst! I hope everyone enjoys it, thank you so much for reading!)

WARNINGS: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT! Dubcon (the sex pollen kind but they talk it out), pinv, eating out, bjs, no safe sex here, wing touching, mutual pining, minors DNI!

Tag List: @marimorena06 , @mystic-scripture

(If you'd like to join my tag list for future works, feel free to comment or message!)

Elain had given you a simple task while she was away with Lucien. Tend the garden. It wasn’t hard to do and if you were being honest, you loved watering the flowers and trimming the plants. That was one of the few things you had in common with your older sister.

Being the youngest Archeron sister had its many, many downfalls. You were only seventeen when Feyre had been taken by Tamlin, fulfilling her destiny while you desperately searched for yours. During that time you tried your best to look for her, learning what little Nesta and Elain were able to teach so that you could find a way for your family.

However, it wouldn’t have ever been enough to stop Hybern’s soldiers from finding your family and dragging you to the Cauldron as a sacrifice. That day will forever live in your mind, the looks on everyone’s face as the three of you were thrown into the brutally cold water.

You survived despite the odds, as did your sisters. It was a cruel twist of fate when Nesta and Elain got gifts bestowed on them while you were left the short end of the stick. As always.

It didn’t hurt you too much though, you were used to being in the shadows. They kept you company when it got to be too much and you were grateful for it, for them. You didn’t need nor want to be seen as Feyre, Nesta, and Elain were.

But there were a pair of eyes on you that you could never shake off. Rhysand��s notorious Shadowsinger.

Azriel.

Ever since you had been pulled from the Cauldron he had watched you. At first, it unnerved you, this Illyrian spy hovering over you while his shadows whispered into his ear, but now it just feels like you’ve pissed him off in some way.

A small part of you had wondered if you were mates, especially since when Nesta and Elain were Made, the bond for their mates snapped in place. The bigger part of you knew though that if you were mates he would’ve revealed it by now.

Unless he didn’t want you.

Something sharp started to hurt in the middle of your chest at the thought. You were already lonely enough, not wanting to bother your sisters with your troubles as it seemed everyone was finally happy. Except for you.

“You’ve been washing that dish for five minutes now.” A low voice stated behind you, making you drop it back into the sink. You knew who it was before you even turned around.

“Lost in thought I guess.” You replied, shrugging half-heartedly while turning to face Azriel. He was dressed in his typical Illyrian leathers, wings tucked in and arms crossed. 

Those hazel eyes were holding some kind of emotion that made you shrink back and as you did, the shadows around him seemed to flinch as well.

“Why are you-” Azriel began.

“I’m gonna-” You started.

A blush crept up your cheeks from embarrassment. You licked your lips, not noticing how his eyes followed the movement, before leaning to grab the watering can. “I’m going to go tend to the garden. If you need anything, I’ll be out here.”

You pushed through the back door before Azriel could reply, taking a deep breath when the fresh air hit your nose. The sun felt warm against your skin and it helped ease your worries about what was surely watching you from the kitchen window.

After filling the watering can you make your way to the gate, pushing it open with a creak and letting it shut behind you. This garden was Elain’s pride and joy and for good reason.

Flowers and plants of all shapes and sizes were in bloom, trimmed, and cared for to perfection. She spent most of her time here and has been in a mood since she realized she’d have to start all over again at her and Lucien’s new house. You were still stuck at the townhouse so you had promised her to take care of it as best as you could.

It was actually doing pretty well. You were very proud that you hadn’t killed a single one. Elain still technically lived here but she was letting you handle the reigns at the moment.

The wind lightly blew your hair back as you got to the last section of the garden, shadows dancing in the sun. As you bent down to get the ones in the back you noticed a new flower that hadn’t been there before. 

It was a beautiful shade of pink and white, the colors swirling like marble. There was also golden dust on the edges of its petals that seemed to twinkle in the sun. You were almost positive that it wasn’t a weed but at the same time you had never seen this type of plant, even back in the mortal lands.

A sweet smell hit your nose and before you could blink you had reached out to pet the petals. As you touched them, the golden pollen stuck to your fingers. It caused a strange buzz to fill your head and body which had you almost falling onto your ass.

You felt extremely lightheaded and placed a hand across your forehead to take your temperature. That was a mistake though because the pollen traveled with you and fell across your face and nose, making your skin sweat and burn much faster.

“What the hell was on that flower?” You questioned slowly, heart thumping in your chest. The light and sounds around you were almost too much for your senses and something clicked in the back of your foggy mind.

Have I been poisoned?

It would make sense. A strange flower shows up, the pollen is making you dizzy and hot, it could’ve been anyone that put it there. Were you the target? Or was it Elain?

A sharp cramp twisted your lower stomach and you dropped the can, spilling the water across the stones. “No, no, no…” You gasped, looking around frantically. No one was here or else they would’ve heard you, would’ve noticed your pain. You were pretty sure Azriel had gone on some errand as well, leaving you completely alone. 

You needed to get inside and find something to cure you. The clock was ticking yet you didn’t even know when it would be up. The Mother seemed to hate you.

The feeling was mutual.

Your skin was practically on fire, sweat soaking your face and clothes. The second you made it to the back door was when a new symptom hit you, drawing a new reaction out of you.

Azriel’s scent was still lingering in the kitchen and when the smell of cedar and mist hit your nose a huge gush of arousal went immediately to your sex. It had you clenching your thighs together from the force of it, drool collecting in your mouth.

Using all the strength you could muster you practically crawled to your room on the bottom floor, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. You stood on wobbly legs and immediately stripped yourself down to get at least a little relief.

All of your thoughts started to turn to mush as you swayed side to side, falling back onto your large bed. Images of Azriel started to flicker behind your closed eyelids and you moaned again.

His bare chest while he trained, the shadows curling around his arms, the way his wings stretched after a long flight. Each picture made you wetter and wetter until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Whatever was in the flower had turned you into a mindless whore, sex was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You had never felt so tightly wound in your life. Hell, your only sexual experience was with a local boy when you were sixteen.

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, momentarily stopping your inappropriate thoughts. It wasn’t a poisonous flower at all…it was a fertility flower. You had read about them in books from the continent where it explained that pollen was used in wedding gifts and mating rituals.

The next thing you realized was that there wasn’t a cure for this. You would have to ride this out for however long it stayed in your body. If you remembered correctly, the fastest way to fix this was to have your mate help. 

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have one. This was something you needed to fix by yourself. 

So, with shaky fingers, you ran two fingers down your pussy, your juices easily lathering them completely. It seemed so dirty to be doing this to yourself, in the middle of the day when anyone could walk in.

When Azriel could walk in.

You groaned at the thought and plunged those two fingers into your waiting hole, hips rising off the bed at the euphoria. A small trickle of guilt went down your spine about imagining him when he clearly didn’t care for you, but, when an image of him between your thighs flashed across your head, it went out the window. 

“Fuck me.” You gasped out as you raised up to your knees, riding your hand while your other one went to paw at your breast. “Please, Az, please…” You whimpered, trying to keep your voice down.

Hair was sticking to your face and neck and you could’ve sworn that a puddle was forming underneath you but you were too busy chasing your orgasm. It was growing inside you like a storm, your walls clenching around your fingers as you cried out again.

It was too much and not enough. You felt as if you were being swallowed by giant waves, pleasure turning to pain when you couldn’t reach that peak. Tears started to gather in your eyes from how much your stomach was cramping and how flushed you felt. 

Soft cries tumbled from your lips a few moments later as you still rode your hand, begging the Mother above to help you take this pain away. 

And gods did she have a funny sense of humor.

Three sharp knocks echoed in your room, your head shooting up as you scrambled to cover yourself. “Y/N? Are you okay?” Azriel asked through the door, his tone short. 

Mother save me, please tell me he didn’t hear me.

It took a minute for you to collect yourself enough to answer, two fingers still stuffed inside of you. “Y-yes Azriel. I’m okay, go back to whatever you were doing.”

He stayed at the door, shuffling his feet before clearing his throat. “Are you sure? I felt a tug on…” He trailed off. It seemed like he had heard you, his voice low. 

“Leave. Please.” You begged though your voice held no edge of authority. A sick part of you wanted him to bust down the door, see you, and claim you. You regretted the line of thought as another cramp hit you. “I’m fine. Just go.”

Azriel didn’t listen. Your scent was suffocating him and he had to know what was happening. The doorknob turned before you could stop it and he stepped inside, eyes widening at the sight of you. You were probably the last person he wanted to see like this and it was made so much worse by your tear-stained cheeks and disheveled hair.

“Gods, Y/N, I can see you dripping from here.” He growled, eyes hooded and voice dripping with desire. “What happened?”

You didn’t have time to register his tone because the scent of him wafted over you again. And again. And again. It felt like your heart was going to give out at any second if you didn’t get him closer.

“Stupid flower, pollen, I just need-” You ground out right before you felt your eyelashes flutter, the overwhelming feeling you were about to faint creeping in. 

He was quick to get to you, reaching out and grabbing both of your arms to sit you upright. His hands almost seared into your skin and you moaned, reaching up to cup his face and pull him towards you. 

Azriel was so caught off guard that he couldn’t stop your lips from joining, one of your hands grasping his hair to tug him closer. He tasted like shadows and secrets, lips plush and soft as you held onto him for dear life. You couldn’t think clearly anymore as the aphrodisiac had now fully absorbed into your skin. The kiss had your head spinning and cunt throbbing ten times harder than before, causing you to groan into his mouth.

“I want you, Azriel. I need you.” You panted, looking into his eyes for the first time in months. He could feel your chest heaving against his, see the wild look in your eyes. “Please help me.”

He took a very deep breath and shook his head slowly. “I can’t Y/N. You aren’t yourself and I don’t know what you did but-”

You cut him off by palming his growing erection in his pants, almost drooling from how long and thick it felt. The other hand left his hair and grabbed his left hand to put it over your bare breast, biting on your lower lip at the sensation. 

Azriel’s self-control was on a razor-thin line. You were too drugged out of your mind to notice but his jaw was tight and his eyes were memorizing every curve of your body. This was everything he ever wanted, you squirming and begging underneath him, but not like this.

Not when you wouldn’t remember it.

The mating bond had formed between the two of you the second you were Made. A strong, primal feeling settled into his blood when you were dragged out and thrown to the floor. You hadn’t noticed, not that you would have any idea what it was, and Azriel thought it was better that way. 

He had seen how well Elain had taken it when Lucien stupidly blurted it out that day, or even Nesta. Azriel wasn’t going to subject you to that unless you expressed interest in him as well, no matter how many times he dreamt of your touch or kiss.

His mind was made up but you weren’t about to be so easily swayed. Just as Azriel went to pull away you used all of your strength and flipped your positions so that he was the one sitting on the bed. You swiftly straddled his thigh and began to grind down, throwing your head back in pleasure as your clit rubbed against the thick muscles in his leg.

“Oooh, Az.” You keened while wrapping your hands around his neck. His pupils were blown wide with lust, so much so that you could barely see the hazel in them. The two of you were quickly approaching the point of no return but he just needed one more push.

A devious thought popped into your lustful mind. 

When you ground down again you let the pads of your fingers graze against the top of his wings. It was a featherlight touch but the moment you did, Azriel let out a growl that could’ve shook the house. Two scarred hands gripped your wrists and yanked you off of him before he shoved you onto the bed.

You watched in awe as his wings spread out while pinning you beneath him. It brought you back into the moment for just a minute, enough to savor his hand coming down to circle around your neck.

“You’re playing a very, very dangerous game. I don’t want to hurt you.”

But the mere thought of stopping made tears spring to your eyes, raising your hips in a desperate attempt to show him where you needed him. Azriel briefly glanced down at your throbbing cunt and took a shuddering breath. 

“I don’t want you to hurt me.” You whispered, licking your lips while gazing up at him through your lashes. His hand was still wrapped around your throat, holding you there. “I want you to ruin me.”

And just like that…you opened Pandora’s Box.

Azriel snarled and claimed your lips in a passionate kiss, immediately thrusting his tongue into your mouth and dominating every space in your mind. His shadows curled around your arms and legs so that you couldn’t move at all. You struggled against the bonds for a second but when he bit down on your pulse point you went right back to him.

“Ah!” You cried out, staring at his face that held a sinful grin. Another wave of wetness hit you and fuck, he could smell it.

“Look at me, princess.” He purred, licking a line up from your neck to the shell of your ear. Azriel bit down on it before chuckling. “I want to taste you.”

A frustrated cry slipped out of your mouth when he trailed a single digit down your pussy, collecting the juices and bringing them to his lips. He groaned at the taste and couldn’t even bear to tease you anymore, needing to devour you at that moment.

He nipped and sucked his way down your body, his shadows still keeping you spread wide and still for his pleasure. His tongue lazily sucked in each of your nipples, rolling the bud around before releasing it with a loud pop. 

You were shaking in anticipation and when Azriel finally got to your core, looking up at you with those dark eyes and sadistic grin, something clicked in you. It was like a thread connecting the two of you and everything got much more intense. 

Before you could say anything he went straight to business, giving your clit a harsh suck that made you try to clamp your thighs around his head. You were still restrained though and all you could do was grab fistfuls of your sheets and cry out his name, your previous thoughts scattering to the wind. 

His tongue felt heavenly but when he started to moan at your enthusiasm it sent an entirely new wave of pleasure through your body. He flicked it over your clit rapidly before going down to thrust the hot, wet muscle into your cunt. 

Azriel knew you were dangerously close to the edge already and wanted you to fill his mouth with your sweet nectar. He doubled his efforts and let his shadows dissipate so that he could snake an arm under your hips to lift them off of the bed.

The second you were free your fingers locked onto his black locks while your thighs went around his ears. This new angle made the pleasure increase and you could feel yourself falling over the edge, the only safety net being him.

“Azriel…I can’t. I need it-I need-” You were a blubbering mess. He took pity on you and thrust a single finger into you, curling it to hit that spot deep inside. 

“Take it. It’s yours, Y/N.” Azriel urged, closing his eyes as the first gush hit his tongue.

A gasp was the only warning you gave before you came on his face. Your body went rigid before completely melting into the mattress, riding his face as best as you could from the angle he had you in. Azriel kept licking and sucking until you gently pushed his head away, memorizing his face that was now coated in your wetness.

You could feel the edge of the pollen fading away, your body not feeling quite as hot and sweaty. The ache to be filled was still there, however, and it was quite obvious from the bulge in Azriel’s pants that he would do the job perfectly.

“That was…wow.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him. He was glad you sounded more like yourself but the guilt was now crawling up his back. Azriel could hardly even look at you. And you noticed.

The gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. You were fully naked, with the hottest Illyrian soldier between your legs, after having just begged him to fuck you without even having dinner first. He didn’t even like you, couldn’t see you without shooting a glare or turning away. 

A small sniffle had him turning to look at you. You sneakily tried to wipe at your face and grabbed a pillow from behind you to try to cover up your body. “Azriel…I am so, so sorry.” Your voice was low and your head bowed.

“I watered Elain’s garden and found this flower. I thought I was being poisoned but it was a fertility flower used on the continent.” You explained before he could yell or curse you. That would break you entirely. “It’s used in mating ceremonies and such. I thought I was by myself and I was in so much pain…”

He cupped your face with one hand, brushing away a stray tear. “Why did you say my name?” 

Blood filled your cheeks at his question, your face and neck turning red. He wasn’t giving anything away that would tell you what he was thinking. You tried to look down but he held you steady. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I must have been just out of my mind.” A lie was the best thing you could think to do to try and save face. Azriel didn’t need to know about your feelings for him. “Are you mad?”

There was a minute of silence between you, his eyes unnerving you as they searched desperately for something. You could tell he was still very much aroused and tried to ignore the cramping that was ramping up once again in your lower abdomen. 

“You’re lying.”

It wasn’t a question or accusation, it was just a statement. He knew you were lying and you would rather suffer for the rest of your immortal life than tell him why you called out for him. 

“I don’t know what you’re-” You began but he cut you off, nostrils flaring. It was like he knew some secret that you didn’t but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell you.

“Tell me the truth, Y/N.” He ordered you but you closed your eyes, trying to find some peace in the darkness. You couldn’t do this, couldn’t face him.

Until you saw something in that darkness, something that kept fading in and out. You felt yourself reaching out for it and when you got closer, it was a shimmering silver thread. It was beautiful and pure and…familiar. 

Without hesitation you wrapped a hand around it and plucked it, gasping at the sensation. It felt like your entire body had been pulled with it but that’s not what made you open your eyes.

It was Azriel’s matching breath that made you stare at him in amazement. 

Hazel eyes stared into yours with the exact same emotion while his lips were parted just as yours were. A matching pair. Two sides of the same coin. It felt as if the entire world had been condensed to just the two of you, breathing in each other.

“What is this?” You murmured.

“Our bond.” Azriel hesitated as you furrowed your eyebrows. “You finally felt it.”

“Are you…are you my mate, Azriel?” The thread connecting you got impossibly brighter in your head when you said the word. You didn’t need him to answer the question though, already knowing it to be true. 

You were Made for him…and he for you.

Azriel watched with bated breath as you worked through everything in your mind and when you finally, finally, looked at him as he always dreamed you would he didn’t hesitate.

He brought your face to his and kissed you wordlessly, savoring the feeling of your mind through the bond that he had waited five hundred and forty years for. You matched his enthusiasm with passion of your own, biting down on his lower lip while pulling him closer. 

The groan he let out made a new fire ignite in your bones, giggling when he grabbed the pillow and tossed it into the corner of the room. Azriel moved from your lips to your ear, biting down gently.

“Say it again.” He all but pleaded while moving back to look at you again. 

There wasn’t anyone in the world that could stop you from giving him what he wanted. “My mate.” You smiled, pulling him back in for another kiss. “You’re my mate, Az.”

You started to fiddle with the strings of his pants and he all but leaped up to pull them off, watching you with hungry eyes. The aphrodisiac was certainly still in your system but it was nothing compared to what the revelation of your bond was doing to you. 

It was like a primal urge was drawing the two of you to consummate the mating bond as soon as possible. Azriel removed his clothing and when you studied him you swore your pussy throbbed in anticipation.

He was massive and before you could stop yourself, you crawled across the bed to where he stood. You sat on your knees and gazed up at your mate. “May I?” 

Azriel answered by grabbing your hair and tugging you to him, chest rising and falling in quick breaths. You wasted no time in taking him in your mouth. He tasted divine and his musk made you feel drunk. He grunted when you took him in as far as you could, coating his cock in saliva. 

“Good girl, fuck.” He praised you, trying to restrain the urge to fuck your mouth when you looked up at him. 

The praise made a fresh ripple of arousal coat your thighs which had you shifting on your legs. You badly needed him inside you but the urge to get him to cum in your mouth was greater. One of your hands went to the base of his dick to stroke what your mouth couldn’t and he moaned your name.

Your other hand drifted down to your weeping cunt and started to rub circles on your clit. The moan you let out reverberated around him and he suddenly pulled you completely off, lips curled up in a snarl. 

“I’m trying hard to be gentle with you, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” Azriel warned. 

The warning went in one ear and out the other, your head swimming with lust. He was being too nice and you needed to be grounded, to be reminded that what was happening was real and you actually had a mate.

So you pushed his hands away and swallowed him whole until he hit the back of your throat, your eyes rolling back as you tried to breathe through your nose. Azriel sucked in a sharp breath and smirked, using both of his hands to grab your hair once more. “You asked for it.”

He didn’t give you time to pull up, starting a brutal pace of fucking your mouth. Both of your hands flew to his thighs to hold onto as you let him use you. The sounds coming from your mouth were sinful but it didn’t matter. You were enjoying the way his face contorted in pleasure and fuck anyone else who had a problem with it.

Azriel’s fingers started to twitch in your hair when you tried to help him, sucking as much as you could while gagging. He had never seen you more beautiful than now, on your knees with tear-stained cheeks choking on his cock. 

A ray of light being corrupted by the shadows.

The image was too much and you greedily drank down his cum when his hips stuttered, roaring out as he held you there until he was done. When he let you go you drew back with a gasp, cum leaking out of your mouth while you caught your breath. It was only a few moments before your mate laid you back and claimed your mouth once more, tasting himself on your tongue.

That inferno that had been building in your body was on the verge of exploding and Azriel could tell by how much you were squirming. He didn’t want to wait anymore and without questioning, lined himself up with your entrance.

You raised up on your elbows to watch him enter you, biting on the inside of your cheek at the first stretch. It felt exquisite. He pulled out slightly before pushing back in again, watching you consume his dick.

“Azriel…you feel so good.” You sighed, falling back onto the bed when he bottomed out. He had stretched you out to the max but it was as if your body craved more of him as it would never be enough. “Please, move.” 

“As my mate wishes.” Azriel purred before pulling out and slamming back in in one fluid motion. The thrust sent fireworks of pleasure throughout your body and you cried out for him, back arching. 

The pace he set was brutal, the two of you chasing a joint release. He bent down and took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking the hard nub and nibbling on it until you left scratch marks down his arms. 

You opened your eyes to watch him fuck you, seeing the concentration and pleasure in his eyes when you clenched down. The end was coming all too soon but also not soon enough. 

His wings were covering the two of you, casting a warm light that made you feel fuzzy inside. You knew how sensitive Illyrian wings were, especially when you had made the mistake of touching Azriel’s when you had first met, but that was the goal you were going for,

Your finger gingerly reached up as he rutted into you and stroked down the sensitive membrane, your eyes taking in his reaction. He let out a full body tremble and looked down at you in untamed desire.

“Do it again.”

So you did. Over and over you caressed his wings, even letting your nails graze across sometimes. Azriel snarled and let his mouth come down to bite your collarbone, enjoying your cries of pleasure. He could tell you were getting close and if you kept touching him like that, he would be too.

Azriel doubled his efforts, rutting into you with mindless passion while you allowed yourself to be swept up by it. Your orgasm started to build and just as you ran three fingers down the edge of his right wing, you felt him hit that spot inside of you. 

“Shit, fuck! Az!” You squealed as your hands fell to grip onto something, anything, as you came to the crest of pleasure. “Right there! Please, please!”

He gave you a wolfish grin and angled his hips to hit it one, two, three more times until you came with a loud cry and his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your cunt squeezed him like a vice, causing him to follow your lead and spill inside of you with a roar of his own. 

The bond between the two of you shone brightly as you met your peaks together. Azriel’s cum was hot inside of you and as he kept thrusting, you felt another orgasm ready to follow your first. You didn’t know if you could take it but he knew you could, dipping two of his fingers to your clit to rub quickly.

Your entire body shook in ecstasy when you came again, your mind going foggy. It felt like you were looking down at yourself, at your mate as he stilled inside of you to drink in the moment. You wanted to stay here forever.

His hand pushing back your hair made you come back to reality, your eyes squinting up at him. Azriel’s gaze was tender as you smiled at him. You cupped his face with one of your hands to match him, rubbing his cheek.

“My mate.” You sighed happily.

Azriel chuckled and kissed you softly, pressing his forehead against yours along with his body. The two of you were joined together in every sense of the word and it felt right.

“Yours. Forever.” He replied, breath tickling your face as you kissed once more. 

[anoonesblog]

Slow Burn

After a mission in Illyria, you find yourself drugged with some sort of aphrodisiacal breeding tonic. With Azriel seemingly interested in Elain, who can keep you from enduring a torturous night of pain?

WC: 5k

Warnings: Smut, piv, oral (female receiving), dubcon (i guess due to the drug but consent is given), sex pollen, slight angst but mostly fluffy smut

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics! I do not do taglists anymore.

Burning. An intense burning flowed through your veins, radiating from your form and making your pulse hammer under your skin. Your entire body pulsed with the movement of your blood. Sweat accumulated on your forehead, and your vision blurred slightly as you became more and more lightheaded.

"Can you hear me?" Madja asked.

You nodded, but it felt like it took everything in you to move your head up and down. She placed a small damp towel on your forehead when you began squirming.

Immediately, her strong hands held your wrists down to the bed. "Stay still, young one."

Tears lined your eyes in frustration. You needed -- you needed...

What on earth did you need? What was happening to you?

"Madja-" you started, breaking off with a gasp at a sudden pain in your abdomen. "Am I dying?"

She scoffed. "No. Not as long as any of your friends can help it."

"What's happening to me?"

She stroked your hair back, and you couldn't help the way your stomach knotted at the action. It had to be bad if she was showing this much sensitivity.

"You were drugged. At the Illyrian camps, one of the males must have slipped you a strong tonic."

You tried to think back to all who you had interacted with, but your mind was fuzzy, brain unable to focus with the ripple of electricity buzzing under your skin.

A tear broke free and rolled down your cheek despite your attempts to hold it in. You felt so uncomfortable, so uneasy, the pain steadily rising...

"Madja." A strong, very male voice broke through the haze.

Rhys. He was here, and he would make sure you survived. He always did.

But it was silent. You could barely see the way his eyebrows knitted together in concern and concentration as he spoke mind to mind with Madja. You reached trembling fingers out toward him, but he stood completely still, not faltering at your rasping breaths or pleas.

"Rhys..." you breathed out.

He swallowed harshly, and then he was breaking his conversation with Madja and turning his piercing violet eyes to you. They cut through the haze around your mind and vision, wrapping your attention entirely around him.

Still, he said nothing. Only nodded slightly in that graceful way of his before backing out of the room swiftly.

A whimper left your throat at his absence, a foreign feeling of betrayal burying deep in your chest at his loss of safety and protection. And then you were twisting with pain once again. Madja was quick to step back to your side. She delicately dabbed at your sweat-soaked skin, and you put whatever energy you had into focusing on your breathing.

"It is a breeding tonic."

The ringing in your ears quieted at her explanation, and you listened to your heart beat faster and faster as you waited for her to explain. Your skin tingled with discomfort and a need to do something.

"Illyrians often use it on unwilling females. It seems one may have wanted revenge. Or an immoral night of pleasure. Possibly both."

You swallowed, trying to soothe your dry throat to no avail. "Why does it hurt?"

A sigh, and then she was rewetting the fabric. Her attention cast downward, but you still felt her voice wash over you as she spoke. "Your only antidote is in what they would take from you. The pain makes it more likely for the females to give in."

The only sound in the room came from the water in the bucket by your bedside and your raspy breaths.

Who did this to you? Who would do this to you? Wretched, disgusting, fucking animals, all of them.

"Rhysand had put you under, and I have kept you unconscious with sleep aids until this point but your body is burning through them too quickly. Is there anyone we can ask to treat you?" Madja asked, the damp fabric dabbing at the beaded sweat on your skin.

Treat you. As if they would be feeding you medicine, monitoring your symptoms and heart rate. No. Madja wasn't asking if there was someone who could check your temperature and put you to bed. She was asking if there was someone who could appease your body and take you to bed.

There wasn't. Even if you felt comfortable enough asking one of your best friends, they were all happily mated or in relationships. Rhysand had Feyre, Cassian had Nesta, and Azriel... he had Elain.

Your mind drifted to the strong shadowsinger, picturing the moment you had seen him last. In the training circle, his leathers had long been stripped and the muscles rippling under tan skin had been addictive to watch. His chest heaved with each controlled breath, sweat dripping down his chest, lower, lower, lower, until the small beads dip under his waistband, led by the small trail of hair and contracting muscles pointing directly downward toward his--

A cramp ravaged your abdomen so suddenly and viciously that you audibly cried out, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and sliding down your temples.

Azriel. The male who had proved you wrong when you had trusted no one. The one who came to your rescue when the priestess temple was invaded. The one who trained you to be lethal and vicious and better than you proved yourself to be on your latest mission.

You would always want him. But he always seemed to want someone else.

Muffled sounds in the hall distracted you briefly, but the cramps, nausea, dizziness, fever, lethargy, it all left you feeling dreadful and delirious, your mind far away from the present moment.

You pushed the damp cloth away with little energy, gritting out through clenched teeth, "There is no one."

Madja sighed, her facial expression stern in your blurry gaze.

When she stood, she dumped the towel into the bowl of water, patting her hands dry on her clothing. "Would you like me to ask for someone to be chosen for you--"

"A stranger? No."

This wasn't just a one-night-stand. You felt small and weak and vulnerable. You didn't know what you were going to say or do. There was no way you wanted to be in this situation with someone you didn't trust. Good male or not, you would feel uncomfortable and exposed with no ability to defend yourself.

"Without treatment, your temperature will rise to dangerous levels. The pain will increase. You will be left to suffer overnight until your body burns away the drug. You will be delirious and will beg for it to end. I have seen the effects of such a drug; it is not pretty."

You would not endure the unpredictable touch of a stranger and you would not force your friends into a difficult position. One they, and their mates, were unlikely to forgive you for.

You licked your dry lips, voice catching as you asked, "Autumn... Eris or Lucien?"

Madja showed no judgement as she nodded. "I will have Rhys send a letter."

Then her hand dropped from your body, the sound of her footsteps fading away as the ringing in your ears increased. Burning, burning, burning. You needed an ice bath, to jump in the Sidra, to peel the skin from your bones, reach inside of yourself and quell the ache.

Small sobs left your mouth.

You heard shouting. An outraged "Eris?" and shuffling of feet. You weren't sure if your hearing was going in and out or if the voices were fluctuating.

It was not difficult to recognize Rhysand's stern voice echoing through the house and disrupting your muddled state, his position as High Lord a declaration in his tone. "This is not up to you."

"He will take advantage-"

"She is asking for him."

"Let me talk to her." The voice was quieter. Muffled and hard to make out. "If she still wishes for him after, then that will be her choice."

Quiet. Only the ringing. Your pulse as it beat, beat, beat in your head. The sweat and tears slowly dripping from your skin. The tremble in your limbs.

And then a knock.

You did not answer, you could not answer. But it was as if this was known, because the door inched open slowly anyway, revealing deep hazel eyes and the broad frame of Azriel.

A whimper escaped at the sight of him, your body reacting to his presence. It was not abnormal for you to preen in his presence, to admire his beauty and long for something more. But this was heightened. Your abdomen knotted up at his concerned expression and strong hands reaching out to you hesitantly.

He sat slowly next to you, fingers just barely brushing the sheets of the bed you laid upon. You whined, only inches away from his touch.

"Sweetheart..." Azriel mumbled under his breath, looking you over with worry.

The sound of his deep voice nearly made your eyes roll back, shivers trailing down your already trembling form. You want that voice to whisper in your ear, his hot breath fanning along your neck and cheek as he claimed you.

"Azriel," you gasped. In any other moment, if you were coherent, you would have been embarrassed at the need in your own voice. You sounded absolutely debauched.

"I'm here." His fingers moved quicker than your blurry vision could track, and suddenly they were on your skin. A breath whooshed from your chest as strong capable hands caressed your face, thumbs stroking at the heated skin with reverence and fear.

"Gods, you're burning up."

You focused on his eyes, dizziness making all other surroundings blend into the background. You wanted him so desperately. You wanted him to move those hands down, gliding across your neck down to your sweat-slicked chest, grasping at your breasts and your hips and your ass...

His hands were gone as he spoke sternly. "You need water. You're dehydrated and feverish."

As he poured water into a glass, you could have sworn you heard him mumble something about a "stubborn female," but your mind was already spinning and you felt on the brink of delirium. You were half convinced Azriel wasn't even really there.

"Drink."

Cold water poured slowly into your mouth and down your throat. You greedily swallowed it, trying to reach up with your hands to grasp the glass and send more flowing down. Azriel shushed you instead, stroking the skin of your arm with his free hand as a way of telling you he's got you.

When the glass was empty and the internal fire ravaging your body dimmed only slightly, Azriel skimmed your form, fingers fidgeting with inaction.

"Who drugged you?"

His voice was lethal, and it sent a pang of pleasure to your core. You held back a whine. "I don't know."

"I'll kill them for what they were planning to do. For what they did."

You couldn't respond. It felt like you were being stabbed, skinned alive, split open. Your skin burned and your abdomen ached. Each limb weighed a thousand pounds and your tongue felt like lead in your mouth.

And the anger in his tone only amplified your agony. His fury was palpable and as easily as you imagined him taking you gently and lovingly, you pictured his harshness and ragged edges as he instead pinned you down and ravished you. Your body suddenly ached for bruises and bites and possession.

It was getting worse. This was so much worse than when you first woke.

Tears flooded your eyes as your head swiveled to the side, noticing the darkness still shadowing the sky. There would be hours more of this. Hours of torture and pain.

"You need to go," you breathed out. "You're making it worse."

"Let me help you."

His words were short but confident. Both a demand and plea, although you knew deep down it was a question. He would do nothing without your consent.

Frustration built inside your chest. You so badly wanted to say yes, your lungs ached to scream it. But there in the back of your mind was Elain. Bright and beautiful and holding the desire of the male beside you.

You could not withstand having him for one night only to be thrown away after. Eris or Lucien would be preferred.

"I can't," you choked out, a tormented cry catching in your throat as you spoke the words you so badly didn't want to.

Instead of taking the chair next to your bed once again, Azriel crouched by your side, trying to be eye-level with you. He swallowed harshly, eyes moving across your face and studying you with a pained look that rivaled your own.

His mouth opened then closed, as if trying to hold down his arguments. Finally, he said, "I will not hurt you. I will be respectful and gentle and thorough--"

"It is Elain!"

The words flew from your chest with a desperation. A release you needed to let go, a way to get him to stop talking, a plea to stop making your pain worse.

Azriel only shook his head, though. "I do not understand."

"I will not--" you took a breath trying to stay focused. "I will not lie with a male who wishes me to be someone else."

"Someone else," he repeated.

At the silence permeating the room, the only sound coming from your labored breaths, Azriel mumbled, "You stubborn, stubborn female."

Hands cupped your face again and your own gained enough strength to hold onto his wrists. Despite your words, you could not bear for his touch to leave your skin again. He looked desperate and hungry as he brought your face toward his own and looked into your eyes.

"There is no one and there will never be anyone I wish to be with who is not you."

Nails dug into the skin of his wrists. Thighs clenched and eyelashes fluttered.

"I have been in love with you for ages. You are courageous and perfect and exasperatingly maddening."

His lips inched closer.

"When I heard you were injured in Illyria, I nearly tore this house apart to get to you... And when I heard the issue, I wanted to kill all of the soldiers and any other males near you."

You shivered, mesmerized.

"Don't make me keep watching you in pain."

Then quietly, a temptation. "Just say the word, and I will make it all stop."

Lips brushing against your own, just barely. Enough to make you whimper without satiating any of the fire beneath your skin. "I will give you anything."

"Please," you begged.

Azriel only continued to tease and hold back. Thumb stroking your cheek and lips still hovering, touching and fleeting along your own. "Not that word."

But you couldn't think. Your mind felt like it was in a blender, spinning and spinning with nothing to focus on but those hazel eyes and those words. His shocking words of admiration. You did not know anything but him -- his touch and his eyes and his voice...

"Azriel..."

His large hand stroked your sweaty hair back from your face. "Yes, sweet girl?"

Yes. His word echoed in your head. Yes, yes, yes, you wanted him so badly.

"Yes," you whispered against his lips, feeling hypnotized by his presence.

Just that one word. As the last syllable left your lips, his own were pressing down. You immediately trembled against him, into him, moaning into his mouth. You were completely drawn in, a spell overtaking your mind and body. The feel of him was addicting.

Powering through the weight of your limbs, you dragged your hands into his hair, gripping and tugging, greedily trying to take all that you could. You needed help, you needed more.

Azriel pushed your shoulders back at your insistence. The panicked noise that left you had him immediately leaning back in, standing to hover over you and move closer into the bed. You wanted him in the bed, in you, absolutely everywhere. Fingers clasped into the hem of his pants, but he did not let you get far, stopping your fumbling hands.

"Patience," he spoke against you, moving his lips to your neck and soothing the sting under your skin there. "I'll make you feel better."

The feeling of his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck had you moaning in relief. "I need more."

Azriel’s fingers slid from your face to your chest, and you arched into him. They explored and teased, moving down your side and underneath you until his hand rested firmly beneath your shirt, palm flat against your warm skin. You used the hand as a platform, arching against it and toward his body. He accepted you greedily, leaning down to trail his lips further down your neck and to your chest, the fabric lifted to give him access. You could feel the arousal pooling in your underwear, soaking you, and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped your throat as his teeth bit down on your right breast lightly.

Tilting your head, you watched the veins in his hand as he grasped you, the muscles in his back tensing with his movements.

Your hands snuck between the both of you, fingers still shaking, and found their way to his abs, pressing into his sculpted skin and moving downward. Before you could reach the waistband of his sweatpants again, his scarred hands engulfed your own, pinning them above your head.

"What did I say, sweetheart?"

You whined, arching into him both seeking his touch and begging to be released.

"You're torturing me."

“What do you need? I want you to say it."

The pang of annoyance that made an appearance at his teasing was overtaken by need, a cramp stabbing through you.

"You, you, I've always -- I need you-" you rushed out.

You wanted to yell at him to hurry and do something, because you swore you would internally combust if he didn’t give you more. But your voice was exhausted, and your words caught in your throat, as his strong hands released your wrists and moved underneath your pants to finger the elastic of your underwear. You lifted your hips eagerly to help him pull them both down, your own fingers now gripping the pillow beneath you.

“Such a pretty girl,” Azriel breathed out as he moved lower, lips beginning to tease the inside of your thighs. Your hips bucked at the feeling, tears of frustration nearly spilling over.

His hands caressed the remaining untouched skin, moving up and down your legs before one strong hand rested on your stomach and another began to explore your center. His thumb brought the slickness from your core up to your clit and back down again, spreading your lips for his view as if he were there solely to admire you. His hazel eyes were heavy with lust as he watched his own fingers explore your body. A protest was on your tongue when his middle finger slowly prodded and breached your entrance, filling you swiftly.

You nearly jumped at the intrusion, reaching down with limited strength to grip the strong forearm resting on your abdomen. Azriel briefly glanced up to make sure you were okay before continuing with his movements, slowly thrusting his finger in and out of you.

His lips retraced their previous pattern on your thighs, only this time edging closer to your core. Distracted by the movement of his mouth, you let out a yelp of surprise as Azriel added a second finger.

“You okay?” He asked against your thigh, voice husky. His lust-filled eyes met yours through his dark eyelashes and you nearly moaned at the sight of him laying between your legs, cunt tightening and pulsing at the view.

You nodded desperately, head falling back as his large fingers stretched you out, rhythmically curling against the spot inside you that made you see stars. Your vision swam even more than before, and you thought you might pass out.

You were gushing around him, your wetness coating the inside of your thighs. The pleasure he was bringing you was going straight to your head, and you felt like you were on cloud nine. You were unsure how he was making you feel this good with only his fingers, unable to question if it was due to his own skill or because of the drug in your veins. You stopped caring immediately when he suddenly licked lightly over your clit, placing a gentle kiss there before sucking lightly.

You gasped at the feeling and out of nowhere your walls were clamping down on his fingers, pulsing around them sporadically, and you were gripping his arm tight enough to bruise, the muscles underneath your fingertips flexing.

Vision gone black, you came down heavily, feet kicking at Azriel weakly in an attempt to gift you some relief. His tongue lapped at you like he was begging for more time to savor your taste, but with your insistence, he acquiesced.

Azriel had barely pulled away before he was placing the two fingers that had been inside of you into his mouth, trying to appease his need to get more of your taste.

You nearly came again at the sight.

The fabric of your clothes was suffocating, and at your attempts to pull at it, Azriel immediately moved to free you from the restrictions.

His hands replaced the clothing immediately, once again feeling the bare area that had been sanctioned off to him for so long. Large hands groped your breasts, tongue tasting your sweat-salty skin.

“Az, please.”

He released you, although it looked like it took an effort. “I’ve got you.”

Leaving one last kiss on your sternum in between your breasts, he sat back, hooking his thumbs under the band of his pants. Your anxiety steadily rose at the action, your current state making you wary. Were his words spoken under pressure? Will he still want you tomorrow?

He immediately sensed the change in your body language, eyes meeting your own. “I can keep-”

“No,” you blurted out, desperate to have more of him. “I’m okay.” You tried to push his lengthy history out of your mind, the history that included both Mor and Elain, before it created more of an ache in your chest.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want. I stop when you say.”

“Okay,” you breathed out.

He gave you a small smile, leaning forward to kiss your lips gently. While he was distracting you with the feel of his mouth on your own, his tongue beginning to explore yours, he slowly reached with one hand and pulled his sweatpants down and off, leaving you both completely nude in the bed.

His hand returned to stroke up your burning skin, following a path to your breast and back down to your core, feeling to ensure you were still soaked before moving any further. At the assurance, he grabbed ahold of his cock, guiding it to your cunt and dragging it through your folds. The wetness made him groan, and you released a gasp into his mouth at the feeling of him. Your fingers gripped his biceps and he moved his forearms up to cage your head, grabbing your own hands along the way, leaning over you and covering you fully with his body as his fingers intertwined with your own.

His bright eyes questioned you one last time, giving you an out, no questions asked.

“Please, I need you. I want you,” is all you said, barely a whisper, but he heard it. Then, he was pushing forward.

The head of his cock breached your entrance, and you whimpered at the intrusion. You didn’t get a good look at it, but now you wished you would have because he was big. You figured he would be from his heightened power, strength, and overall large stature, but he felt even bigger than you imagined. Your fingers gripped his own harshly, holding onto him both to ground your anxieties and in hopes he’d keep going.

Azriel entered you slowly, his thickness stretching and stretching you until you felt only a deep sting, your breath catching in your throat. He was quick to soothe you, whispering quiet praises into your ear, telling you that you were being so good, that you were taking his cock better than anyone ever had, that you felt so good wrapped around him.

It felt as if it took forever for him to fully enter you, but at last he hit your cervix, sending a pained squeak out of you. You weren't even sure if he had fit all of himself into you.

“So good, sweetheart. Doing so good for me.”

He pulled out nearly all the way before slowly re-entering you, the drag of his cock against your walls sending fireworks flying across your vision.

“Oh my gods.”

The burning under your skin cooled with each movement, the cramping in your abdomen turning into pleasure. His hips moved freely into you, his pelvis grazing your clit with each surge forward.

"That good? My sweet girl feeling better on my cock?"

Your eyes rolled back at the words, pain ebbing into pleasure, the sting of the stretch and the trembling in your bones fading away in favor of a heavenly feeling spreading through you.

"You're huge, Az-"

"I'm yours, sweetheart."

His lips hovered over your own, your noses brushing against each other's as he moved into you. The feeling was so overwhelming, the fluidity in which you became one, and you found yourself removing your hands from his, wrapping your arms around him and instead clutching his back, mindful of the wings hovering around the two of you.

You clung to him, and you could hear the whimper that escaped you as he began to move faster, his muscles moving underneath your fingertips.

“Cauldron, you feel like heaven.”

You couldn’t even respond. Your nerves were tingling with pleasure, your mind was still hazy from the drugs, and tears were blurring your vision from how good you felt. You were gasping, listening to his own groans, the sounds you made as you connected, and the movement of your bodies against the sheets. Your brain was gone, replaced by complete bliss as he entered you over and over and over again.

Azriel recognized the glossed over eyes, the incoherent whimpers and moans, the way you couldn’t seem to get out a thought. Your fingers drew him in closer, massaging his back and arms while his own hands explored your body, trailing from your calves to your face. His palm cupped your jaw, his hand moving until his fingers were tangled in your hair.

“Gorgeous girl. Want you to let go and take what I give you. Let me make you feel better." His gaze faltered from your own as he moved his thumb from where he was stroking your cheek to move down against your clit, bringing some of your wetness up toward it before moving at a deliberately gentle and teasing pace.

Your toes pointed, body tensing to the point of pain, and hips attempting to raise off the bed. Azriel only held your hip down, forcing you to absorb what he offered. “That’s it, come on. Want to feel you around me. Want to watch you come undone.”

His thumb brought you higher and higher, his giant cock moving through your walls like he was made solely to pleasure you. Tears finally fell over and down the sides of your face, dripping onto the sheets below as you nearly let out a scream.

Then you unraveled. Legs shaking, fingers grabbing onto anything, cunt clamping down onto his cock as if he was going to leave you, fluttering and pulsating until you only saw white behind your eyes and felt the burning hot waves of an orgasm shoot through your veins, traveling up your back and straight to your brain.

Then it suddenly felt like you had been shoved underwater, the embrace of the cool liquid soothing your skin, your heartbeat, any pain that had been coursing through you.

You were floating, completely at peace as your high dwindled back down.

When the feeling passed, you could hear Azriel faintly grunting but your hearing was still submerged, ears ringing from your high.

The warm feeling of his spend filling you up soothed whatever was left of the ache in your body, like a primal medication with immediate effects. Then your vision was back, and Azriel's head was hanging forward, hair dangling into your face as he watched himself pull out of you.

You let out a noise of discontent as he removed himself, but he was quick to try to appease you with a kiss to your lips, his fingers busy pulling his pants back on.

When he pulled back, you were breathless. The effects of the drug were gone only to be replaced by the addictive male in front of you.

"Better?"

Nodding, you reached for his fingers. "I don't know what to say or where to start. Thank you."

The love in his eyes was obvious, and you wondered how you had missed his eyes on you this whole time. How long had he looked at you like this?

"You don't have to thank me."

You brought him back down to you, ready to finally rest under his strong and protective arms. A conversation long in the making ready to be had in the morning.

He kissed you once, twice, before pulling back.

"You do have to explain why you asked for Eris, though."

[anoonesblog]

Paloma

(Captain John Price x F!Reader)

Summary: You all go to a club after a mission in Mexico and your drunken words have a sobering impact on your captain.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, daddy kink, embarrassingly drunk reader (no sex while she's drunk), spanking, choking, authority kink (?), age gap, unprotected sex, price gets nassssty

Word Count: ~ 6.3k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“Pepper. We’re waiting on you. What’s taking so long?” Simon gruffly inquired from the bottom of the stairs. “y/n what are you wearing?” He examined as he questioned your choice of club attire.

“A dress. Duh?” You deadpanned.

“WOAH.” Some of the guys gasped as you walked down the stairs.

“Steamin’ Jesus. Where’ve you been hiding these things?” Soap quipped.   

“You guys are acting like you've never seen me in civies before. They are just legs, come on. Leave me alone suds.” You swatted at the Scotsman that poked at your thighs.

“Pepper. I’ve seen you in civies before but not in a dress. Not this dress” Soap stated while his lips quired into a sly grin. 

“Yeah, I can't say I have either. You look beautiful though.” Gaz affirmed to your left.

“Thanks, Gaz.” You tilted your head in appreciation. Alejandro and Rudy walked in from the kitchen. Ale’s face brightened as he took in your appearance.

“¡Qué hermosa mi amor pero eso no es nuevo para ti!” Alejandro winked at you.  

“¡Gracias Ale!” You smiled as your face flushed with warmth. 

“You look gorgeous, sweet girl.” You looked over to the bench where your captain sat.

“Thank you, Captain.'' You smirked at Price's compliment as you watched his eyes rake down your body. Something about Price stirred things deep inside of you. Like a primal need. A want. A craving. But he’s your commanding officer so that’s all that he can ever be.

 A want. 

You fought the urge to clench your thighs together at his heavy gaze. His baby blues met yours and you felt yourself to suppress a shiver. Get it together.

“Okay let's go before they close the doors on us huh.” You cleared your throat and made your way to the door. 

~~~

You had just finished a massive bust and the team wanted to chill for a bit so you recommended clubbing. Did you recommend this because you miss shaking your ass and wanted to get drunk? Yes. Yes you did. You could only deal with so much testosterone for so long. It wasn’t like you hated being around the guys, you loved them, it was just that you sort of missed the thrill of getting hit on and it actually leading somewhere. The guys flirted with you all the time but it never went anywhere because at this point you were all family. It wasn’t even flirting anymore, it was like getting a compliment from a drunk aunt. 

You missed when flirting had an edge. When it led to you going home with someone and riding them till the sun came up. Some small part of you missed being treated like a girl. You appreciated that the guys saw you as one of them but at some point you have to remember that you have needs… parts you have to have filled. 

Price treated you the same as all of the guys and part of you appreciated it but his “flirting” always had a different air to it. Like he wasn’t trying to rile you up or ruffle your feathers. It was like he wanted you to hear everything he said and take it to heart. Like he meant it. Clubbing could also serve as a distraction from your feelings about the man. It wasn’t fair that he could occupy so much space in your brain. 

So you styled your hair, put on a face, slipped on a cute but always comfortable pair of heels, and a dress that damn near guarantees you’ll get laid. And made your decision to kick back and take your mind off of Price.

~~~

“So… Can I get drunk tonight?” You looked at Price for an answer and batted your mascara covered lashes.

“Why are you looking at me? You’re a grown woman and you don’t need my permission to do things.” Price rasped avoiding eye contact as he gripped the wheel. 

“Okay cool. So then you don't have a problem with me going home with someone tonight?” You probed watching as his hand white knuckle gripped the steering wheel. The men behind you fighting to hold in giggles knowing their captain’s feelings for you that he has yet to admit.

“Now why would I have a problem with that, Pepper?” Sounds like he has a problem with it, you thought. You chuckled and looked out of the window as you watched the stone fences eventually turn to trees. Alejandro’s car in front of you eventually came to a stop outside of the club. All of you regrouped at the door and made your way in. It always felt a little weird being one woman walking in with a gaggle of 6 men on your tail but you’ve been in weirder situations. You grabbed a booth on the far side of the club. Making sure to have easy, clear views of all of the exits. 

“Okay. I'm going to the bar to have a drink. Please don't come over unless you need something. You guys have a tendency to scare… people away.” You laughed and winked as you made your way to the bar. You spotted a handsome man who appeared to be having a drink with his friends and you knew you had to get his name. 

“The huntress is on the prowl, Price. You gonna do anything about that tonight?” Soap questioned his captain with a low whistle.

“Soap. I have no clue what you are talking about.” Price denies.

“Ay dios mio. Captain, you play the fool so well. We all know how you feel about her and I think she knows too. We are in Mexíco. My people do not play when it comes to beautiful women.” Alejandro began as he lifted himself from the booth. “I saw at least four others whose jaws dropped when she walked in. You will miss your chance with her here if you keep being shy.” Alejandro chipped with more bravery than his brothers at the table before he patted Price on the back and made his way over to a beautiful woman he had locked eyes with the moment he stepped foot in the club. 

After a while you got bored of the man you were talking to. He was a beautiful man but lacked any depth and honestly didn't seem like he could do any of the things you need a man to do. You stayed up at the bar and turned back to look at your group's table. Almost all of your group had been dispersed throughout the club. The only ones left at the table were Price and Rodolfo. They seemed to be deep in conversation and enjoying themselves so you smiled and headed to the dance floor. 

You found a group of girls to dance with that seemed to be having a good time and you asked if you could join their group just to dance for a bit and were welcomed with open arms and kisses brought to your face. You missed being like this. It's been ages since you hung out with a group solely made up of women. You quickly learned their names and where they were from. They were from all over the world and just spent time traveling together across the world as a group. The group was composed of some of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen and you felt great being accepted into their group. Mara was from Brazil, Tati from Puerto Rico and a number of other girls from a variety of countries. Tati had been eyeing Gaz all night and you knew that they’d hit it off deciding to introduce them later in the night. Your priority at the moment was dancing and having a good time.

Although you were in a Mexican club, they played all kinds of Latin Music and even random hints of American Music. Anything that you could move to, you moved to. From Destiny’s Child to Bad Bunny to Kali Uchis to artists you’d never heard of. You and Mara had been platonically grinding on each other for a major portion of the night. Your hips had minds of their own and moved any which way. Your system was flooded with an indiscriminate number of margaritas and palomas so you felt like you were on cloud nine. Your hips hadn’t stopped moving even as you felt a pair of eyes on you. The heat of the gaze could only belong to one man in this club. 

 You looked back to the table and locked eyes with Price. You smiled, felt a wave of confidence, and blew him a kiss before you turned back to Mara, Tati and the others.  La Romana by Bad Bunny and El Alfa came on and you all were locked in place on the dance floor. The tequila from the drinks you downed had you feeling like the only thing that mattered in the world was dancing to this song with these girls that you quite literally just met.

 You and the girls danced to the song as if you were the only people on the floor. Tati started rapping El Alfa’s part as all of the inhibitions exited your body. You couldn’t even call it dancing anymore because at this point it was just cheering as the gorgeous woman next to you rattled off in Spanish. By the time the song ended and you were out of breath and drenched in sweat. You raised your voice over the music as you drew the girls in and let them know that you had to take a break. You were met with a number of hugs and kisses to your cheeks as you turned to slip from the crowd. You decided to stop at the bar for another drink and turned back to the table. The liquor coursing through you made it feel like you were floating as you made your way back over to the table with your fruity cocktail in hand. 

Price’s eyes followed each step that you took and he stared at you with a burning gaze. The heat of his stare felt like a rope as the intensity pulled you closer and closer to him. You eventually closed the distance between the two of you and plopped down next to him. You were most definitely invading his personal space, but he just sat with the slightest smirk on his lips. 

“You look like you’re having fun out there, sweet girl.” He said as bumped his shoulder into yours. Your mouth was moving before your brain could even formulate a response. You never really did kick the habit of rambling when you got drunk. That little fact about you and Price’s watchful eyes had you loose. Absolutely no control over your body or your mouth, so you rambled. 

“I would be having so much more fun out there with you, daddy. Those girls are so sweet though. Mara and Tati and I think someone named Olivia. I can't really remember but I think Tati and Gaz would be so cute together.” You leaned into Price and lovingly looked into his baby blues. For some reason you grabbed his hand. “I haven’t danced like that in so long. Did you see my hips? It was like they had a mind of their own. Feel like I'm gonna be sore in the morning. Ugh, Daddy you should’ve joined me out there. Wanted to feel you behind me. Grabbing my hips and guiding them. Might’ve even put your hand on my throat and let you choke me a little.” The filth slipped from your mouth with a giggle and you hadn’t even realized the gravity of the comments you'd been making. You’d called him “daddy” twice. Not once but twice. 

Price stared at you dumbfounded. He felt his dick twitch in his trousers. Of course he’d been watching you from the moment you left the table to the moment you set foot on the dancefloor. He watched you meet the girls, open your arms, and be welcomed with kisses and giggles. Watching the interaction had him feeling things. His mind told him was too old for you. It told him that he was old enough to be your father and he already was your superior.

He’d watched you play with the lad at the bar who hadn’t even realized how out of his league you were. Price’s mind told him that you have all of these young men at your disposal. The doubts about his age flooded his mind. Why would you want him? You deserve someone who can keep up with you. Someone young and energetic.

His doubts were put on the back burner when you blew that kiss to him. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. When you damn near skipped over to him his heart was replaced by a warmth. When you called him “daddy” his cock stood at attention and his doubts had flown far from his mind. 

“Sweet girl, how many have you had tonight?” He groaned. 

“Like 4 shots of tequila and a few palomas? Have you had one yet? I think it's the national drink of Mexico or something like that” You chirped. 

“You know that I won't enjoy that. Barely enjoying this sorry excuse of a whiskey.” You pushed the cocktail over to him. 

“Please just give it a try for me, daddy? I tried that scotch the other night and I almost passed out from how strong it was.” Price let out a long sigh and looked into your eyes as he grabbed your glass and took a sip of the grapefruit cocktail. The smile plastered on your face was enough to melt his heart. He felt the cold liquid hit his tongue and was immediately hit with the sweet tang of grapefruit and the light punch of tequila. He would never admit it, but he actually enjoyed the slight tangy and sweetness of the drink. He faked a grimace and placed your glass back on the napkin. 

“Happy, love?” You giggled in his ear and kissed his cheek. Your brain hadn’t even registered what you’d called him just a moment ago. His eyes met yours.  “y/n, I don't want you going home with anyone tonight.” Price stated with a serious tone. He almost sounded how he did when you went on missions and he’d used your real name. Not your call sign or a term of endearment. 

“Daddy, don’t be so serious, I wasn’t planning on it.” You leaned into his ear as the words flowed from your lips, sweet and syrup-like. “ I just wanted to look pretty for you. Maybe sit on your lap and dance a little but you can be so stubborn.” Price turned his head and looked at you with wide eyes. Full of lust but also full of shock at your gall. 

“Love, I think I should take you home. You’ve had quite a lot tonight.” You leaned into him and pressed a giggly kiss to his cheek. 

“Only because it's you, okay. You really don't want to dance with me. Not even one song?” You practically begged as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

“Let's see if you can even stand up on your own, Love.” 

“Of course I can.” You stood up and felt like the world had left you behind as wobbled on shaky feet. 

“Mhm. Let's go home.” Price affirmed and you frowned, but immediately thought of Tati and Gaz.

“Wait. Tati and Gaz. They need to know each other. Let me introduce them, please daddy.” With a long sigh that was meant to calm himself, he nodded and let you drag him to the dance floor. Of course you had hopes of playing matchmaker tonight. He chuckled a little at the fact that you always had the best interest of the team at heart. 

When you spotted Tati, she looked at you, and then at the 6'2 man planted firmly behind you. Her smiling face began to reflect one of concern as a frown crossed her stunning features. She tried to convince you to stay with her to make sure you weren't being taken advantage of in your state of intoxication. You felt your heart warm at the act of consideration, but let her know that you know him, trust him, and love him. Loud enough for him and everyone around you to hear over the music. His eyes widened and his face immediately flushed into a shade of deep red. He cleared his throat and grabbed your phone. He asked for the girl's number while you leaned on him and looked at him like he roped the moon out of the sky for you. He’d definitely remember the dopey love struck look that was painted on your face. 

He let you take Tati over to Gaz. Gaz, Soap, and Simon had been planted at the bar drinking and laughing with each other before you tapped Kyle on the shoulder. He turned around and was met with the sight of you, very much inebriated and giggly, arm intertwined with Price’s as you leaned onto him while holding onto Tati’s hand. Kyle and the others were glad to see you clinging onto Price and watched the interaction in fascination. 

“Kyle. Tati. Handsome man meet stunning woman.” You hummed while pushing Tati toward Kyle, feeling satisfied with your matchmaking skills. “Daddy, let's go home.” You looked up at Price. Soap’s mouth dropped open as soon as the word slipped from your mouth but quickly clamped it shut as he locked eyes with his ever serious captain. Simon just shook his head, not completely in disbelief at your comment, but more in amusement that you’d been drunk enough to say something like that in front of the others. Gaz’s eyes widened because he definitely heard you call your captain, daddy, but he threw on a smooth grin as he looked over to the beautiful woman that you brought along with you. He was torn between clowning you for your kinky admission or letting it slide. He ultimately decided to put it on the back burner as the gorgeous woman locked eyes with his. You whipped your body around and stumbled your way toward the door. 

Price basically carried you to the car. He was supporting most of your body weight with his as he chuckled while navigating the two of you through the gravel filled parking lot. The pair of you reached the Black SUV and Price swept you into his arms as he opened the car door. 

“In we go, love.” As he situated you securely in the passenger seat. Just as he was about to close the door you slurred out a “wait.”

“What do you need, sweet girl?”

“I’m sorry for being like this, daddy. I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” He chuckled and brought your hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hand.

“You’re not a burden, love. You just had a bit too much to drink. It happens. As long as you had fun, I really don’t mind it.”

“God,” you said with a sigh, “You’re so hot. Can we have sex?” The warmth returned to his face at the admission. He had no intentions of doing anything with you tonight except maybe brushing your teeth and tucking you into bed. He sighed with a soft smile and closed the door. 

“You truly are something special.” He said into the nothingness as he walked around the car.

The rest of the night was a blur for you but all you remember was Price carrying you back into the safe house then lying in the soft covers of a bed and finally drifting out of consciousness.

Price sat next to you in bed and watched your sleeping figure as your soft snores filled his ears. When he was satisfied with the amount of breaths that fell from your lips, he lowered himself into the sheets next to you and lost his own battle with consciousness. 

--- --- ---

When you awoke, you were met with the sight of an empty bed and the sun shining through the flowing curtains. You looked over to the on-suite and saw your burly captain brushing his teeth at the sink. You released a content sigh as you turned onto your side. You felt yourself being pulled back into the warm embrace of sleep but as soon as you were at the cusp of consciousness, you felt the bed dip next to you. You kept your eyes closed but felt your captain just sitting there. You heard his breaths as he sat motionless next to you. The air grew tense as a beat of silence passed. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the heat of his gaze. Was he just staring at you? Was he going to say anything? 

“What are you doing?” You probed, anticipating a gruff response.

No reply and then a long, heady sigh. 

You started to turn your head until you felt a warm, firm body press against your back. Price’s body molded into yours as he reached around your front to find the hand that rested on the sheets. His hand found yours and you gawked at the difference in size. His hand engulfed yours in a warm embrace as he gave it a soft squeeze. His face nuzzled into the nape of your neck as he filled his lungs with your scent. His hairy chest was snug against your back as you felt his lips purse against your warm skin. 

The tension grew as he shifted his hips forward against yours. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his bulge firm against your ass. He let out a low hum behind you at the feel of your soft bottom against him. Your mind started running through scenarios as you tried to recall the events that took place last night. How did you end up in bed with your captain? Did you fuck your captain? Did you do what you’ve been craving since your first meeting almost two years ago?

“We should talk about it, love.” He said with a firm squeeze to your hand. 

“Did we… Did we have sex last night?” The words came out far meeker than you had intended. He let out a small sigh and pushed his head deeper into the crook of your neck. 

“No.” Before he placed a soft kiss against the side of your neck. You felt a chill run down your spine at the intimate act. “You were far too inebriated for me to feel comfortable doing anything to you.” He hummed as he began to pepper delicate kisses on your neck.

“I wanted you to.” Slide its way, breathlessly and truthfully, from your lips. 

“I know.” His hips shifted into yours, allowing you to feel him fully. Feel the warm, firm thickness that John had hidden under his shorts. “You looked stunning last night. Seeing you free and enjoying yourself like that, it made me feel things.” A gasp slipped from your lips as you felt his cock twitch against your bum. “Things I thought I had buried. Things that aren't right. Things that I shouldn’t feel about you.” He rocked his hips into you as his hand tightened around yours. “Then you danced your way over to me, looking at me like I hung the moon in the sky. Calling me what you did.” He groaned in your ear at the memory as he rolled his covered length into your behind. “You remember what you called me, love?” A fervent pulse into your rear. His hand left yours and trailed its way up your front, stopping just under your breast. 

You couldn’t say anything. Your mind had just gone blank as your captain began to frot into your clothed ass. “Hm? Do you remember, sweet girl?” His hand made its way into the valley of your breasts and he pressed, pushing your torso impossibly close to his. Your back and ass flush against the mountain of a man. 

“I-”

“Do you need me to remind you?” His hips curled into yours. Your thighs tightened and your pussy clenched around nothing. Air slipped from your mouth as your words were trapped in your throat. Lost searching for words as his cock rubbed into the covered crevice of your ass. The intimacy of the act had dulled your thoughts. The only thing that filled your mind was him and the effect that he had on you. 

“Ah. I- Price.” 

“No. Not that. That's not what you called me seven times.” His hand made its way to your gulping throat. “That’s not the name you used. No, I don't think so. That's not what you said in front of the others.” You pressed your ass into him needing to feel more of the thick bulge that was trapped between you, your underwear and his. 

“Please.” Was all that you could conjure as your mind told you to take matters into your own hands. Your trembling hand made its way between the two of you searching for the thick length that was causing the blankness in your mind. The man jerked his hips away from you. Away from your desperate touch. 

“Ah ah. Not until you say it. I know you know it sweet girl. You wouldn’t let me forget it last night.” His voice had a deep, raspy quality to it that you’d never heard from him before. It set your core ablaze. 

“Captain please.” His grip on your throat began to constrict as your hand searched behind you desperately seeking the source of warmth you’d just lost.

“Getting closer.” His other hand slipped under your neck and replaced the hand he had tightening on your throat. The hand that was originally at your throat made its way down your body as you trembled at the sensation of his warm fingers teasing your body. 

“Mmmmmm fuck. Please please. I-” His fingers made their way into the waistband of your absolutely drenched panties. Your hips twitched at the sensation. He pressed his palm just above where you needed him. His breathing deepened in your ear. He growled in your ear. Deep, full bodied like a scotch. Gravelly.

“Say it.” Your hips twitched at the command. 

“Price I- please I’m-,” the words racked your brain as you tried to concentrate. His fingers on your pubic mound just began to tap. Light yet so impactful as his fingers just danced upon you. You tilted your hips upward trying to catch their movement just a bit lower. So close to where you needed him. The words tumbled out of your mouth at breakneck speeds.

“Daddy, please.” You were almost crying now. He tugged your ear lobe between his teeth as he sank two fingers into your weeping pussy.

“Oh fuck yes.”

“Say it again, sweet girl.” No hesitation. No stammer. 

“Daddy. Fuck.” He rocked his hips back into yours as he plunged in and out of you. The meat of his palm rubbed harshly against your puffy clit. An exhale forced itself from your lips that was soon accompanied by a low whine.

“You wouldn’t stop fucking looking at me last night.” Rock.

He licked the side of your neck as he breathed heavily against your ear. He curled his fingers inside of you as the breaths were forced from your lungs. 

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Rock.

“Like you had some kind of spell on me. Your hips. Watching them sway in that dress.” Rock.

“You- uh fuck- wouldn’t stop.” He groaned as he pushed his fingers in further. Rock.

“You insatiable little slut. I shouldn’t even fuck you right now.” His hand constricted around your throat again. The man was tearing you apart with just his fingers and his voice.

“I- oh my god. I’m so sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean it.” The groan that ripped from his throat shifted something inside of you. You needed to hear him make that sound again. Your hand fumbled behind you as you searched for his cock. John tilted his head away from your ear as he watched your clumsy ministrations. You, frantically searched behind you. 

“Desperate girl.” He chuckled over your shoulder. 

“Please, daddy. I just. I wanna make it better.” Maybe you were desperate. You really couldn’t care because the thing your really needed was so close yet being shielded from you by fucking fabric. “John fucking help me.” 

Wrong answer. 

He pulled his fingers from you and rolled out of the bed. Your body followed as he stood up. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please just- can you just-” Frustration was not a strong enough word to describe your feelings.

“Lie on your stomach.”

“Huh?”

“I won't repeat myself.” You wouldn’t even give him the chance to repeat himself as you laid yourself flat on the bed. 

“Hands behind your back.” You complied. Of course you did.

He gathered your wrists in his hand and ran his palm over the covered globe of your ass and you shivered at the touch. He yanked your panties down to your thighs and your newly exposed pussy fluttered at the change in temperature. 

“Fucking gorgeous. God look at that little pussy. It's too bad though.” You couldn’t see what he was doing behind you but your hips twitched in anticipation. 

Apologize. Yeah that’s what you should do. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

Smack.

An exhale left your lips that you didn’t even know you'd been holding. The pain hadn’t even fully begun before he dropped his palm onto the other cheek. You rocked your hips back in shock. 

“You don’t like to listen, sweet girl. No. You don’t think, do you?” The sting was red hot on your ass and you somehow couldn’t stop your pussy from clenching. He pressed your hands into your back and forced you to arch for him. He ran a thumb down your dripping slit. He dipped the tip of the thumb, just barely, into the opening of your weeping center. You shifted your weight back, further into his touch, and let out a soft moan. 

Smack. 

You pressed forward into the bed hoping to run from the sting that blossomed on your ass. 

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You whined.

“Sit still.” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

He let go of your hands and moved his own to the burning flesh that encompassed your ass. His hands squeezed and groped, kneaded, the plump fat that sat at your hips. 

“Calm down, sweet girl.” He soothed. With a firm grip of your ass, he turned his thumbs inward, and pulled the stinging cheeks apart. His thumbs sat just above your drenched slit. He pursed his lips and pushed a drop of spit from his lips. It landed on your perineum and trickled its way into your opening. You tried to still your hips as your mind conjured a visual of the filthy act. The picture you painted in your head had you shivering. 

“Are you gonna be good for me, love?”

“Yes, daddy.” You eagerly nodded your head against the pillow. 

He hummed behind you as he kneeled above your trembling body. He grabbed your hips and tilted them upward, deepening the arch of your spine. He pressed his weight against you as he shifted his own hips forward. His underwear was gone. You could finally feel just how massive he was as he shifted his bare hips into yours. He pressed his cock down between the globes of your ass and he rocked his weight into you. A light whimper left your lips as you felt the girth that hung between his legs. He pressed his thumb onto his cock and sank it down into your wet heat. 

The stretch was blinding as you forced yourself to calm your breathing and you felt him work your open on his cock. Your body shook as he made room for himself inside of you. It felt like the air had been pressed from your lungs. 

“Oh god yes. Thank you, daddy.” 

“Tight as a bloody vice.” A deep groan tumbled from his mouth as he dropped all of his body weight onto you. He let you adjust to his girth before he repositioned his arms and legs so he could support himself and fuck you proper. He pulsed his hips forward and you swear that you could feel him at your cervix. The kiss of his cockhead at your center sent a shiver through your body. 

“So fucking deep, daddy.”

“Yeah I am.” He sighed quietly. He rocked his hips into you again and you keened. You reached your hand up to his, needing to hold onto something as you prepared for what was to come. His thrusts began to pick up speed as he fucked you into the mattress. The only thing that could be heard in the room was the sound of his hips slapping into yours and your quick releases of air as he fucked into you. A ragged growl left his throat as he straightened his legs and grabbed your neck. It was a blur of colors and gasps as he shifted the two of you over. He laid on his back with your back to his chest and planted his feet firm into the mattress. He slipped a hand around your front and found your neglected clit. His hips met your ass with a fierce clap. The sounds that left your mouth were quick little yaps as he fucked up into you. The change in angles had you feeling him even deeper than before and you were about to start seeing stars.  

You’d never been fucked like this. His hips shot upward and brought yours back down as they descended. The pressure of him driving into your aching pussy along with the tight, firm circles on your clit had you clenching tightly onto his cock. He was hitting all the right spots deep inside of you and taking care of your clit just the way you needed. All you could do was lay on top of him and take it as he basically used your body. His breathing had gone ragged as he pounded you.  

“Daddy I-”

“What sweet girl? Is it too much for you?” He smirked, out of breath beneath you as he pounded into your pussy. He stopped the circular movements on your clit as he pulled his hand away from your body. A frustrated goan fell from your lips at their removal. The groan was short-lived as tight gasp replaced it. Price quickly dropped his hand back down onto your clit in a sharp slap.

“Oh my god.” You squeaked.

He chuckled behind you and did it again. The sting from his motion had melded perfectly with the pleasure of him digging into you. Your pussy tightened around him as the sensations of his actions pushed you closer to the edge. He brought his hand back down onto your puffy clit and sighed into your ear. The only thing that slipped from your mouth were the short moans that were being punched out of you as you took what he gave you. 

“You gonna cum, sweet girl?” He taunted over your shoulder. His condescending tone had your pussy bearing down onto him. 

“Fuck. I feel you tightening up on me.” His voice had started to sound almost surprised as he made you take him. He placed his hand back on your pussy and used his index finger to rub small, intense circles on your clit. 

“I’m gonna cum, sweet girl. Where can I? Huh? Can I cum in you?” He ragged under you. 

“Fuck yes. Yes, daddy. Yes.”

“You gonna let me fill you up? Huh?” He sounded absolutely feral. He applied firmer pressure to your clit as he groaned into your shoulder. 

“Oh fuck, daddy” You threw your head back and dropped all of your weight onto him as you felt your release flood your system. Your back arched and your toes curled as you struggled to take air into your lungs. The intensity of the orgasm rendered you speechless and helpless as it washed upon you. Price’s movements grew sloppy as he tried to walk you through your release. You ground your hips into his as you rode out your high. 

“Fucking shit.” You felt your captain throb inside of you as he emptied himself into your aching cunt. You felt the warmth grow inside of you as his seed flooded your warm walls. 

He straightened out his legs and layed the two of you onto your sides. He left his softening cock inside of you as he wrapped an arm around your sweat drenched torso. All that could be heard in the room was the sound of your breaths syncing up as you laid there in bliss.  

“Holy shit.” You panted. 

“Mhm. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He sighed, breathlessly as he traced your senseless shapes onto your stomach.

“Yeah? Me too.”  You smiled as you turned your head to partially face him. 

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” His baby blues met your gaze.

“Because you’re a stubborn man.” A satisfied chuckle fell from his lips as he smiled at you.

“I guess so.” 

A beat passed as the two looked into each other's eyes. Your breaths had fallen in sync with one another.

“You told your friend that you loved me.” Somehow, more warmth spreads across your face and your eyes widen and his smile grows. 

“I- I do.” You said, meek as a mouse, as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. 

He leans over and places a soft, tender kiss to your lips. His lips feel surprisingly soft and only mildly chapped as they move against yours. He pulls back from you, breathless, as his eyes lock onto yours. 

“I love you too, sweet girl.” 

[anoonesblog]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

-

There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen. 

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet. 

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. 

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold. 

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed. 

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation. 

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave. 

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out. 

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different. 

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer. 

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up. 

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver. 

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave. 

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it. 

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down. 

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again. 

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch. 

When the door opens, it startles you awake. 

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you. 

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water. 

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink. 

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room. 

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you. 

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip. 

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers. 

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking. 

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer. 

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side. 

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss. 

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you. 

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you. 

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear. 

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place. 

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered. 

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck. 

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind. 

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus. 

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth. 

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead. 

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat. 

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.  

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright. 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’—fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum. 

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices. 

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap. 

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject. 

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again. 

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned. 

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so. 

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything. 

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes. 

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest. 

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed. 

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold. 

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh. 

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in. 

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous. 

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping. 

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up. 

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt. 

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat. 

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.  

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you��ve ever heard. 

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon. 

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—” 

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit. 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out. 

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth. 

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak. 

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard. 

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts. 

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue. 

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.   

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think. 

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby. 

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift. 

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him. 

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow. 

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

[anoonesblog]

part one

“come sit on my desk, sweetheart.”

you’re nervous as you look back at ghost, but he only nudges you gently, urging you to get up and do as the captain says. your swallow is audible, standing on shaky legs, ghost’s hands lingering on your hips until you step out of his reach.

the metal clanking of price’s belt makes you blink rapidly, your mouth going dry. is this truly how you want your first time to go? to be fucked by your boyfriend's boss while he watches? the nerves begin to rattle through you. having price watch while ghost tried to please you was one thing… sitting on price’s desk while he fucked you was something else entirely. 

you’re still stunned you let ghost walk you into price’s office in the first place, obeying him when he instructed you to sit on his lap, spread wide for the captain to see. it was a crazy idea that you were somehow talked into. you’d do anything to ease ghost’s worry, and if that meant allowing another man to show him how to be gentle with you, then so be it. 

price’s eyes trace your figure as you approach, the cool air of his office making you shiver. your skirt is crumpled on the floor along with your underwear, your tank top skewed but covering your chest still–glad for at least a little bit of modesty, still quite nervous around these two men. 

price’s tsks, clicking his tongue, gesturing his head at the open spot on his desk before him. you slip into the small space and price’s warm hands grab the fat of your hips, heaving you up so you’re sitting on his desk. you cannot believe you have your bare ass on captain price’s desk. the heat flash must be evident on your face because price’s lips tick up. john leans forward, his hands gripping either side of his desk, caging you in. “don’t be nervous, doll. m’gonna take it slow.”

you nod, unable to form words. you hear ghost shifting in his seat but you’re too drawn to john to dare risk a glimpse. one of price’s fingers slips between your legs, dragging through your core, making you whimper. “n’ you’re already warmed up for me.” price tilts his head to look over at ghost. “make sure she’s good n’ready before you fuck her, yeah?”

ghost grunts out a noise of understanding. john stands back upright and he gently begins to push you back. “lie down, sweetheart,” he coos.

you slowly fall flat against his desk and price worms his way between your legs, his hands sliding across your bare thighs, pushing them open so he can look at you. you’re embarrassed but too shy to say anything, so you let the captain have his way with you. price takes his cock out of his trousers and your eyes immediately shoot up to look at the ceiling. john chuckles and you hate yourself for being so bashful. he strokes himself once. twice. then his hand is caressing against you, his thumb circling your clit before you feel the head of his cock on your entrance. “you can look, sweet girl,” john tells you. 

you finally muster the courage to look down and bite your lip when you see how large he is–or maybe he’s average, you don’t exactly have enough experience to be able to tell the difference. but the way he’s pressed against you, you wonder how it’s going to fit. “don’t you worry bout me,” john speaks, “ghost, here, is the real culprit.” it didn’t matter if price was big… ghost was bigger. you suck in a sharp breath in both excitement and anxiety.

you turn your head, cheek on the cool wood of his desk, to look over at ghost. your eyes widen and your chest races, ghost strokes himself as he watches you and the captain. 

“now pay attention,” price says toward ghost. “m’gonna go in nice n’slow.”

and he does. price edges himself inside you and you immediately whine, your legs flying up from the table and cling around price’s waist, your instinct to try and stop him. but his body is in the way, and it only seems to incite him further, price grunting as he makes his way deeper inside you. “ahh, big stretch,” he coos as he fills you.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” price praises. he takes an excruciatingly long time edging his cock inside you, small strokes back and forth, going a little bit deeper each time. you squeeze your eyes shut as price works his way in, trying to keep yourself from clenching down too hard on him. price’s hand caresses your cheek, beckoning you to open your eyes. “m’all in.”

your eyes flutter open, your lips parted, face likely flushed. price grins before glancing over at ghost and gestures his head toward the front of his desk where your head is lying. 

you hear ghost shuffle and move across the floor, then you feel his presence behind you. “touch her,” price demands. 

ghost’s fingers are on you, sliding along the seam of your tank top, lightly feathering your exposed skin. his fingers hook on the fabric and he drags your tank up until it’s tucked under your chin, your bra the only thing between the men’s eyes and your breasts. ghost gropes your chest over your bra and you squirm at his aggressive touch. but ghost is impatient and he tears your bra down a moment later, your nipples popping free with a gasp, and he assaults your breasts, squeezing and palming your soft skin. you moan and price uses that as his chance to begin thrusting inside of you.

you’re so distracted by ghost’s touch that you don’t realize price’s movement until he sheathes himself to the hilt inside you again. you yelp, your eyes widening. “feel so good,” price slurs. ghost releases your breast, your chest likely red and marked, and he pulls his cock free, stroking it. you turn to look, flustered as ghost works himself, his cock right beside your head, his eyes dancing between where price’s cock is buried deep inside you and your eyes. 

price tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand caressing the side of your face, forcing you to look up at him as he rocks his hips against you. 

ghost tries his best to pay attention, but fuck, watching you whimper and whine like that is driving him absolutely mad. he thought this might satiate some of his more aggressive desires, but it only seems to be fueling it further. “doin’ such a good job,” ghost says above you. your eyes meet his and you’re forced to let out a moan as price begins to rub your clit. “gonna come on the captain’s cock?” his words enticing, like he’s getting just as much pleasure out of this as you.

you nod, your hands reaching above your head to grip the edge of the table and stop yourself from bucking up wildly into price. “that’s my good girl,” ghost praises. 

“gonna let me fill ya up?” price asks. he seems so confident, but you can hear the way he’s losing himself, the way he’s desperate for this. you tell him yes, your words clipping on a whimper and price begins to rub circles on your clit faster, needing to feel you clench down on him. 

and you do. you cry out, your walls clamping down, fluttering rapidly, and price groans loudly, swearing and cursing as he empties himself inside you. then you feel it, something warm sliding down your breasts and into your shirt. ghost has one hand gripping the table, the other still on his cock, his come now painted across your chest. you can’t help the wave of ecstasy that fills you when you see it. 

price gently pulls out, muttering something to ghost about how to be soft when disentangling your bodies. you feel liquid gush out of you and drip down your ass and onto the desk, your brain in a haze as you look up at the two men. 

price helps you sit up and he places a kiss on the top of your head, mumbling about how well you did, how good you felt, how perfect you were for him. and you’re certain price is going to show ghost how to care for you afterward, how to carry you to the bathroom, how to help you into some warm clothes. but instead, he says something that makes the fog dissipate from your mind. price looks to ghost, “wanna show me what ya learned, yeah?”

ghost must nod because as price shoves himself back into his trousers, he gestures to the side where you and ghost had been sitting earlier, “atta girl.”

cod masterlist

[anoonesblog]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.