#Fairy sex

[fraugwinska]

I swear your stories make my heart skip beats❤️🩷❤️🩷 I need some soft spicy Alastor x Female Reader. Maybe a Morning After scenario with Alastor and the reader (waking up together, being soft and cute. Kisses and stuff and maybe a slight continuation of last night😏😏)

After the last stories I was EAGER to write your request, my dearest @alastor-simp. I've accepted my rank as fluff fairy, and I oh-so-love to write these cute, tender moments!!! Thank you for this ask, I hope I did it justice!

For the best experience, I suggest to listen to Ingrid Michaelson's "Love is', which I imagined the radio to play in the story (and listened to while I wrote it)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

We only have Forever

The birds in hell weren't like anything on earth – their songs were not sweet and melodic, but rather ominous and melancholic.

Which is why, when you were woken by an unusual, bright chirping sound, you thought for a split second you were alive again, waking up from an intense, unusually immersive dream.

You shifted, cheeks still pressed into the white, soft pillow and body messily wrapped in cotton sheets, too drowsy to realize that the chirp was not coming from birds, but the little, vintage radio that sat beside the bed in. It quietly came to life, the search for a channel resulting in high, pitchy squeaks and fuzzy static feedback. Which was always the tell-tale sign of a waking Alastor.

The arm around your waist twitched, causing you to sigh peacefully. Your lids fall close and you let it pull you back into the center of the bed, into a warm, waiting body - a soft chest, thinly covered in silky taupe fur that tickled your nose, an underlying, hearty scent of wood and vetiver and the familiar rhythm of another heart drumming against your ears.

You left your eyes closed, relying on the most comforting senses of touch, hear and feel, the latter came into use as the sensation of sleepy, light kisses on the crown of your head that caused your lips to pull into a blissful smile.

"Mornin' my buck."

"Good morning, my doe."

His voice was nothing more of a mumble, still lazy and half asleep, hoarse and slightly deeper than when up and about. When he finally seemed to have picked a radio station he liked, the room was filled with a soft, dreamy song which suited the very same ambiance that was present - happy, in love, slow, silent bliss. It was one of your favorites, and one of the few more modern ones Alastor tolerated.

He ran his slender fingers up your back and shoulders, through the disheveled masses of hair, stroking it gently with his sharp talons, scratching ever so lightly on the scalp. He pulled himself a little more forward, tangling his legs even more with yours in an effort to maximize the connection of your bodies and minimize the space that span between you.

"Hey, easy now or I'll think you're afraid I'll jump up and leave as soon as my eyes open." you teased playfully, as Alastor nuzzled his nose deep in your hair, taking in deep breaths, inhaling your scent and humming in content.

"I had hoped after all my efforts tonight you wouldn't be able to even if you tried, darling."

You flicked his ear in fake indignation, but chuckled and raked your fingers over his back in soft, tender streaks, your fingertips gliding over his spine and sides. He shivered under your touches and melted deeper into you. A rhythmic, shuffling sound joined in with the faint tune from the radio, and Alastor groaned when you purred in lofty pride.

"Damned, traitorous thing...", Alastor scowled, trying to evade the hand that reached for his wagging tail under the sheets.

"Don't you talk like that about my precious friend.", you cooed and caressed the plush fur on his lower back, scratching with nimble fingers close to the base of his tail, the very spot where he was extremely... responsive. Alastor just growled again, missing any angry or mad edge, his tail continuing to thump louder and even quicker and causing him to whine as he failed to stop its excited sway.

"It betrays me."

"No, it only tells me that you're happy."

Alastor tilts his head to brush his lips over your own, almost not touching, a tiny, bittersweet distance between his and your mouth.

"If it's that much more of a conservationist for you, maybe I should stop talking then."

With a faint, sighed chuckle he finally closed the agonizing gap, lips met lips in a slow and flowing embrace, moving almost at the tempo of the song, it's calming beat guiding the cadence and harmony of his kiss. You felt him smile, more relaxed and at ease that his usual signature grin, even though your eyes were closed shut in drowsiness and enjoyment. The slow, lazy, fullness of this morning's intimacy, of your bodies so closely pressed together in ruffled sheets while hell's sun was only slowly rising on the horizon, making out and embracing each other without the need to rush or be somewhere in another hour or so was a rare occasion and therefore worth savoring.

His hands traveled over your hips, up your waist to settle in a gentle, cradling grip around your neck, fingertips grazing the outer edges of the delicate bite mark still there as a reminder of the contrasting feverish passion you both shared last night. With Alastor - It was war and peace, in a circle - hard, unforgiving, passionate desire at the beginning of dusk, and soft, tender and sensual love at the break of dawn. A clash of burning flames and gentle streams, all on an even ground of equals.

You sensed the slight change in the mood, the licks over your parted lips with the warm tip of his tongue soon turned to be deep and demanding, less lazy and more eager movements from his tongue - exploring the insides of your mouth, playfully flicking yours and circling around and between your teeth. His large hand left it's spot in the crook of your neck and pulled on the base of you head, sinking his digits in the tuft of your hair. You moaned softly into the kiss, more of a wanton, sloppy sound rather than anything else and you started to grow flushed, your skin tingling pleasantly under every touch and lick and nibble.

You deeply enjoyed the roughness and depravity you shared in the nights, you really really did. But this, this was what you loved. It was when Alastor wasn't starved for you, endlessly hungry and hasty to devour you but when you were a well prepped meal, slowly cooked and seasoned with care and love that you felt the most powerful connection of your souls - his touches were careful and secure and when he held you in his arms like this, kissed and adorned you like that, every and any gesture or caress spoke so clearly the sentence he had captured your heart with - you are mine and only mine.

"You are saying an awful lot with that body language for someone who wanted to stop talking, my buck." Alastor laughed fondly at your husky breathed words, rolling you on top of him, sheets sticking to the planes of your bare bodies. You threw a leg over him to sit in a straddling position, your face a mere few inches above his as he rolled his hips and swayed your body against his growing length.

“That's the beauty of a loophole, my doe, for no spoken words could express me quite as honestly as this."

Alastor kissed you once more and, now grinning as devilishly as you were used to, let his hands find rest on your hips, ready to start one more of those heavenly nonverbal conversations before you both had to ready yourselves for the hellish world outside of your bedroom.

Again, thank you for suggesting this. And a big shoutout to @minkdelovely, who made my heart skip with her article on 'Pictures of you'. The fluff fairy had you in mind with this, too ;>)

[smallmeanie]

local fairy in your area looking for mischief

[marascomics]

The queen rules the kingdom…but who rules the queen?

[grimesgirll]

“nah, baby, i’m not gonna be able to stop when i start.”

“let’s share then!”

“blood?”

you nod eagerly and daryl shakes his head again, muttering a no, baby, it’s not a good idea but your hand is on his bicep, bare neck front and center, and you feel him twitch in his pants beneath you. letting out a naughty giggle, you grind further onto your beloved vampire. “c’mon,” you coo. “you know you wanna.”

“you know i do, girl,” daryl breathes against your shoulder when you lean down to begin kissing his own, trailing up to his neck. he shudders with you on atop him. “baby,” he protests as you place hot, open mouthed kisses all over his pale skin.

"then why don't you let me taste you and i'll let you taste me?"

you propose that as if daryl hadn't seen the fucking face of god last time he'd tasted you.

"drinking from your kind is dangerous." he tells you immediately, even scooching back as if to not be so close to your irresistible smelling neck.

"but i trust you!" you insist and wrap your arms around him to pull the cold blooded man close to your chest. "why don't you trust me on this?"

"because i love you too much for you to let me drain you in the fucking bed."

a huff escapes you. "dare',"

"don't start that."

"but you'll be able to control yourself. i know it," you promise and press a kiss to his cheek, then his lips, reveling in how he softened into you. you only withdraw your lips to assure him, "let's just do it. i wanna taste you, dare'." your lips twinge into a crooked grin once daryl slides off slightly to reach off the side of the bed.

a flash of silver from the nightstand and daryl’s raising a freshly incised wrist to your lips.

for me? you mouth before parting your lips to let the thick liquid fall between them.

you haven’t had much vampire blood before. only once before in a dire emergency had daryl offered you his wrist. it feels special - like he’s yielding something sacred when it coats your tongue and you swallow what john hopkins' leading biologists had deemed the ultimate life blood.

daryl drops his wrist after you down a mouthful and is suddenly transfixed by how rapidly black, vivid dilation consumes your once bright eyes. only a thin ring of color remains on the edge of your iris. wooziness sets in and daryl's rushing to curl you into his side and recline you on the satin pillows of your shared bed. he can't help but swell in his pants at the spectacle he's made of you lolling your tongue out just a little to catch the dribble down your lips.

“now it’s your turn.”

“girl i said-,”

“-i know what you said!” you exclaim. daryl’s darkened eyes widen at your outburst. you sweep a tress of hair behind your head and roll your eyes. “i’m gonna be fine. please, dare’!” you pout. “i know you can just take a little. try it!”

“but what if-,”

“-you won’t.”

now you're nearly on top of your undead lover again - hands planted on his uncut forearm to urge him. "dare', it's only fair."

"it's not fair to drain you, baby," your auburn haired boyfriend counters. "you know how vamps get about fairy blood."

"just try it," and despite his speed, he almost misses the knife you're about to clean off. "hey!" you protest once he tosses it across trhe room.

"fine, just let me," daryl gives in.

you beam with delight. your lips find his again and envelope them, slipping your tongue inside as you bring his strong, calloused hand to your collarbone and slant into the welcoming bed. the hesitation you sense, you try to assuage with a thoughtful hand on his chest, twisting to touch his torso and draw him against you.

the sound of daryl's robust fangs coming forth has you already dripping. you squirm against his weight, already tilting your hips beneath him and his dick isn't even out.

"you ready, baby?"

a gentle hand comes to your chin, and daryl's wondering if it's even fair to ask you this in this rapturous state. to no one's surprise, you're nodding and begging for him to "just fucking bite" you already.

without further ado, daryl dips his fanged bite to the delicate skin of your neck. those sharp, penetrating teeth don't even factor into your experience. you're waiting for pain - daryl told you it sometimes hurt.

devoid of it or delayed, the pain never comes. just pleasure.

"ah, fuck!" you croon lustily. echoing your expletive with another moan. you feel daryl stop, not sucking or puncturing further. you whine and hook your leg under and around his. "don't stop," you demand raggedly.

so he doesn't. daryl drops his incisors fully into your neck, murmuring something through a blood filled mouth into your neck.

"fuck, dare'," you rasp.

the tugging through your neck, through your veins is only a dull, thrilling ache with daryl’s blood in your system. he may as well just be kissing your neck - delivering the ultimate hickey. whatever pain the bite victims on the news went on about when the anti-VRA people clearly did not present while infused with vampire blood.

it's not long before your boy is coming up for air.

blood dripping from his mouth, he's never looked more handsome.

you immediately pull him in for a sloppy kiss, not caring for the irony taste of you on his tongue or wondering why he's not insisting that he wipe off before he kisses you. no, daryl's arching into the kiss and returning your bump and grind with his own hips. you giggle into his mouth. daryl's high on fairy blood. your favorite.

ferocity takes over your formerly - somewhat - tame creature of the night. inhabitations dead and buried, daryl's not hesitating this time to get his lips on your neck - or to hike down your skirt. your legs kick desperately as you wiggle your brown skirt past your ass and suddenly your legs are in the air. held by one hand, your knees crunch above your chest and your panties are thrown to the floor. nose sharply inhaling as if he could siphon every delicious scent, every delectable drop of you from his nose through your clit.

"mhmm," you coo needily. "daryl!"

a tongue laves its way around your clit from side to side, then up and down as if blood drunk daryl couldn't decide. those unwavering hands keep your thighs propped up regardless. you buck and thrash but with daryl's hands on you, you remain still and twitch into his touch. your musk still dancing on his tongue and on the tip of every one of his senses just as he digs his fingers into your thighs. that seemingly supernatural tongue flicks around your clit and teases your core.

a buildup is on the brink of collapse before you even know it. there's no warning sign except for an involuntarily husk and the slick suddenly complimenting and wetting his pretty, pleasure driving lips already coated in your whimsical blood. the same fairy blood that he's going to his head. he can't tell if he's pussy drunk or overdosing on your sweetness.

and you can't tell the difference between time and space. both entities flicker on the edge of your peripherals as a blinding, body curling rush crashes through you. lightning can't compare. no tongue in the world could have you coming undone this way. if you two weren't so wrapped up in each other and the potency of your blood, you may be embarrassed but there's no room to be embarrassed with a vampire between your legs. a creature who loves nothing more than to build you up even past the point of breaking. he can't help but grow louder and even more aggressive in his tongue led campaign against your sensitive, fleshy core. you tighten and untighten, coil and burst until you're convulsing and coming onto daryl.

there's no chance to catch your breath as the wild weapon weaves even more neediness into you with the sweetness he's stealing from between your thighs. the campaign proceeds north, detailing a messy, hot, purple trail from your lower lips along your torso, your tits and to the lips quivering, still trying to trap breath in any way possible.

you're indulging in your own sweet, slick musk from daryl's lips and encircling your arms around him for anchorage once more. your hips on top of each other propels daryl in motion to yank his pants down. between you, his boxers are sliding down and he's knocking them off the bed.

an animalistic growl erupts from him just at the sensation of your slick pussy beneath his girthy cock. dick in hand, daryl is lining up with your slip n' slide of an entrance. suddenly you're pleading. puffing out pleases all while daryl sucks up the divine array in front of him.

head buried into your chest, it's easier to combat the chaos your blood has swirling around in your head. its heat inducing and dastardly just how hot you are like this. punctures on your neck healing, tits bouncing with every bated breath, voice dripping like honey. the vampire presses fangless kisses against your skin when he finally pushes his hips forward.

"fuck!" is your exclamation of choice.

"so fuckin' good," daryl husks into your chest.

an inch or two at a time is how daryl takes you. a tit cupped in one hand and yours in the other, daryl is sure to grate against your clit as he eases in. each labored moan eggs him to go further. the vulgar syllables you're uttering only urge daryl. eventually he's eating up every fuck, shit, and jesus christ with a crushing kiss.

hot and heavy, you two rapture yourselves into the most sinfully delightful rhythm. the drag of his cock against you feels like the finest massage. the edges of your vision are already spotty, so you just coax daryl closer and clench down on his cock.

"fuck," you two rasp in unison.

"c'mon, dare'," you're already croaking. "i'm already close."

daryl doesn't need to look up from licking the fervid skin of your breasts to know your lips are swollen, eyes blinking back tears, and dumbstruck. but when he finally tilts his head up, it makes all the difference. then he's diving to meet your lips.

those thigh muscles work into you without pause. thumping and smacking the wall, the bed feels like a faraway universe compared to the world outside.

your muscles tighten around him to remind that you are so close. so close that a finger against your clit has you squealing. daryl only subjects you to the dual motions long enough to feel the tension in your core crumble and crush his cock. he doesn't need every sense heightened by fairy blood to fill you up faster than he'd like. now though, with no resolve or reason he can summon to stop, he's on the edge of euphoria.

daryl immersed in you has you riding the same high. teary eyes long to capture the sight of him so relaxed. removed from any drama or stress, you wish you two could roll around like this every day. to thrust your face towards his and feel his stubble, to kiss hungrily, and feel his lips on yours as he finishes.

spurting into you like no tomorrow, daryl drives his hot seed into you. the hips that have you pinned to the sheets show no sign of stopping. in and out, in and out. the motion repeats itself as daryl rams every last bit of himself into you and you snap and shriek.

tremors trickle through you until they're turning to thunder crackles around daryl's cock. the sounds spilling from you two soundtrack your thoroughgoing, salacious release. "holy fuck, you feel good inside of me," you're cawing into his ear as you canter closer to coming down.

blissed out on the bed, the two of you don’t know where one of you begins and the other ends. tangled together is the only state you can comprehend. a whimper runs through you once daryl gently tugs his cock from your messy pussy. the cool air coasting up and down your folds startled you, not as much as the finger gathering up your slick - which daryl licks clean.

“fuck, and how many hours to dawn?” you ask, sitting up on lazy elbows.

“long enough for you to get some sleep.”

you huff. even through teary, lusty eyes you’re

“you gotta sleep off the v, girl.”

“it’s not v.” you argue instantly. you curl up to daryl’s side and drop your chin onto his shoulder. “it’s you. i don’t wanna sleep you off.”

“well you’re gonna be bouncin’ off the walls if you don’t,” and when your fingers start sliding down your lover’s torso, he takes the time to wrestle you into the soft mattress. instantly, his mouth is attached to your already healing wound - courtesy of the v, his blood.

pinned beneath daryl, you could go to sleep. fade into the mattress or the feeling of pure joy consuming you. but then you hook a leg around his and when your eyes meet, his are blacked out. or you could go for round two?

[afairycreature]

Shes so real for that one

[rivusapoems]

female characters

like or reblog pls!

[invisiblefoxfire]

what to do if you find yourself writing a post berating someone for using a word for themselves that you think has a slightly different meaning than what they mean by it:

turn off the computer

go outside

find a small woodland creature or perhaps a particularly charismatic plant

befriend it (cautiously - watch out for rabies)

get captured by the fairies

go on a grand adventure to escape their world

return to your old life, a bit scarred but wiser

turn the computer back on and reread what you were about to post

wonder why you ever gave a fuck in the first place

delete the post

[bunni-bonez]

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓫𝓾𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮

𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻

I Hate Sex // I Hate Sports

[off-brand-adorabbit]

Tress scratched the best itch for me, I’ve been craving a good fairy tale and it was just perfect. I kept slipping so hard into the fairy tale aspects that I kept getting caught by surprise whenever a cosmere thing stopped beating around the bush and revealed itself, actually. While I’m sure that wasn’t fully the intention, it was a really fun way to read some brandermansanderman coming fresh off of sunlit man and how intensely locked in I was with the Connections. Genuinely Tress is such a fun little romp. I love girls who sail in fucked up seas and this is a genre I want more of please thank you.

[grapejuicegay]

"Keep fighting, theerak"

BAD BUDDY EP 7 OUR SKYY 2 BAD BUDDY EP 2

[mihrsuri]

I made this for me.

[stevmarie]

Just saw someone on tiktok say “The ships that we need to be talking about are the ships where there’s one person who wears crocs and the another person who hates the fact that they’re in love with someone who wears crocs”.

Anyway, Laxus wears crocs (with white socks) and Gajeel hates that he’s in love with someone who wears crocs. In this essay I will…

[omo-fairy]

Me: -looking for a recipe to try for dinner tonight-

My brain: Would you like to be incredibly horny all of a sudden? Would you like to be extremely aware of your pussy and how it feels right now? Would you like to vividly imagine how good a vibrator would feel on it?

Me: Not particularly, but thanks anyway.

[haggishlyhagging]

Cinderella's father saw her every day. He saw her picking lentils out of the ashes, dressed in rags, degraded, insulted. He was a good man.

The father of Hansel and Grethel also had a good heart. When his wife proposed to him that they abandon the children in the forest to starve he protested immediately—"But I really pity the poor children." When Hansel and Grethel finally escaped the witch and found their way home "they rushed in at the door, and fell on their father's neck. The man had not had a quiet hour since he left his children in the wood [Hansel, after all, was a boy]; but the wife was dead." Do not misunderstand—they did not forgive him, for there was nothing to forgive. All malice originated with the woman. He was a good man.

Though the fairy-tale father marries the evil woman in the first place, has no emotional connection with his child, does not interact in any meaningful way with her, abandons her and worse does not notice when she is dead and gone, he is a figure of male good. He is the patriarch, and as such he is beyond moral law and human decency.

The roles available to women and men are clearly articulated in fairy tales. The characters of each are vividly described, and so are the modes of relationship possible between them. We see that powerful women are bad, and that good women are inert. We see that men are always good, no matter what they do, or do not do.

We also have an explicit rendering of the nuclear family. In that family, a mother's love is destructive, murderous. In that family, daughters are objects, expendable. The nuclear family, as we find it delineated in fairy tales, is a paradigm of male being-in-the-world, female evil, and female victimization. It is a crystalization of sexist culture—the nuclear structure of that culture.

-Andrea Dworkin, Woman Hating