#The Lash Spiced

[becca-e-barnes]

Sub!bucky is so needy for you after you denied his orgasm a few days (he is so whiny 😩🥵)

And at night he’s having a wet dream of you and he doesn’t know that’s part of you evil plan… while he grinds his clothed dick at your palm you whisper some sexy things in his ears. When he cums he wakes up and you made his look like he was not your good boy 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I've actually been thinking about something similar recently! I just really love subby men eugh 🤤

I like to think you could make it a little more intense though because I prefer to imagine that you've been making him edge for a few days. You don't let him edge inside you, you both know he'd struggle too much. Instead, you lube up your hand and stroke him for hours, letting him fuck your fist until he's dribbled so much precum over you, your hand is unbearably slick and then you kiss his forehead before you tuck his aching cock back into his underwear.

No matter how much he whines and begs and pleads to be allowed to cum, you don't give in. He's not just being denied his orgasm, he's being worked towards it until he's right on the edge and then you give him absolutely nothing. Repeatedly. It's torture but fuck, he gets off on knowing his dick is yours. He doesn't cum without your permission. You completely own him.

He breaks after the sixth night of being relentlessly edged. You'd stroked his cock nice and slowly for hours that day, swirling your tongue over his tip and reminding him that he's the best boy. He was practically shaking by the time you both made it to bed.

His little whine of "Oh fuck, please." was the first thing you remember hearing when you woke up, quickly followed by "O-oh, oh yes."

At first you thought he must be touching himself; giving in to his own slutty thoughts when he thought you wouldn't find out.

As your sleepy brain slowly wakes up, you realise he's grinding against you, rubbing his throbbing cock against your bare ass, gripping your hips like there's no tomorrow. "Gonna cum. F-fuck, gonna cum." He's frantic, his head tucked in against your neck, his breath hot and erratic against your skin.

You can't have that. Absolutely not. You shuffle away from him, determined not to let him have what he needs and the second the contact between your bodies is broken, you hear him whine pathetically.

"Did you really think that would work out for you?" You tease quietly, turning to face him but that's when you realise his eyes are still closed. His brow is furrowed, very clearly still asleep.

You can't help but pity him. He's so desperate to cum, he's grinding against you in his sleep. He's done his very best to do as he's told but his body can't take it. He's been the best boy for you all week. The least you could do is grant him a little relief.

"You're such a good boy, Bucky." You whisper, pressing him gently onto his back, grasping his cock and letting the tip glide between your slick folds. Nothing feels better than this. You've missed it more than you thought you would this week.

"Such a pretty little slut." You line his tip up with your entrance and ever so slowly lower yourself down. "You're a mindless little fuck toy for me when you're like this. So horny, you can hardly even think straight. You've been like a needy fucking puppy for me all week. You just let your dick think for you, isn't that right? You know I could tell when you were zoning out and daydreaming about fucking me? You're so cute."

As you start to really fuck yourself on him, Bucky seems to moan himself awake.

"Please." He begs, and it sounds so pretty when he says it. "Please, I'm so close. I'm gonna cum. I can't cum inside you. There's gonna be so much."

"Oh sweetheart, that's what I want. I want you to fill me. Stuff my cunt full of cum. I thought I told you how badly I want a baby."

[silverware-is-interesting]

..-. .. -. -.. / - …. . / ..-. .. .-.. . … .-.-.-

idk i just felt like drawin this version cause it's fun. also because drawing characters helps get a feel for them which in turn helps if you make a playlist for them

a square version too

[high-guardian-herbs]

Help why is Rosemary so hard to draw I wanna keep her design as close to the show as possible but her eyes annoy me to no end what should I do

[jacquesthepigeon]

Now while it’s true that I was wrong about the attempted murder count, adrichat is still spicier than Lila in terms of target variety

[mvncesa]

something about the idea of decker . wounded and-or out of it . snapping / lashing out at sb has a certain Spice to it

[s0dium]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒?!

A/n: Thank you for everyone's patience while I've been on this hiatus. I hope this makes up for lost time Warnings: Dom!xreader, fingering, oral, cum eating, blowjobs, squirting, voyeurism, breeding kink, mating press, doggy, face sitting Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro

Toji- Blowjobs/Cum eating

Toji plugs your nose when he cums in your mouth and makes you gargle it until its dripping down your throat.

He is such a meanie:((

He laughs at how your face scrunches up from the bitter taste of him and how glassy tears roll down your puffy cheeks from the sheer brutality of thrusts into your mouth.

You would think that he'd be done after he busted a load into your mouth? Wrong. He pushes his length deeper down your throat almost making you gag.

"F-fuck baby, that's it, j-just keep doing that."

You still your movements for a brief moment, letting Toji's dick weigh heavy on your tongue while you look up at him through glassy eyes and wet lashes. Immediately, your head grows fuzzy and your ego swells when you catch how his face is tilted toward the ceiling, his eyes scrunched closed as if he's too afraid to open them. He's close. You can tell. Toji's mouth is slightly open, and you can see his tongue darting across his lips, wetting them as if savoring every sensation. Oh how you wish you could touch yourself right now, roll your clit with your index finger and savor this moment. Unfortunately, you got your hands, or rather your mouth, a bit too full.

You let the hand on the back of your head push you flush against Toji's groin, shoving his member impossibly farther down your throat and your nose into his dark happy trail. His musk is strong of old spice and salt. Spit slips from your lips, warm and slick, as it dribbles down your chin.

"Did I say you can stop? You trying to tease me baby?" Toji chuckles but you don't miss the way he almost tumbles over his words. You got him good.

He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on the back of your head guiding you up and down his length while you kneel between his legs on the floor. Every second you're fighting the impulse to moan, knowing if you do you'd probably gag. You even have to drop your jaw to accommodate his sheer size. As it moves in and out, there's an unmistakable saltiness and warmth against your tongue, and the way his mushroom tip hits the back of your throat knocks the wind from you. You can’t help but focus on the sensation—the way his cock fills your mouth, the slight friction as it moves, and the way your tongue instinctively curls and flattens around it.

You allow your tongue to flop out, the warmth of your wet muscle gliding across the underside of his dick makes his thighs shudder. Then, all of a sudden, he grabs your hair and shoves your face into him. You gag at the sudden intrusion down your esophagus, but Toji merely groans, reeling his hips back and thrusting into your wet mouth with primal vigor.

"Gonna cum baby, just take it ok?" He curses under his breath before wiping a tear from your eye with his thumb. "You're taking it like a champ."

You sit there helplessly as he uses your mouth like a sex toy. Heavy tears stream down your puffy cheeks and you have to dig your nails into his thighs to prevent yourself from gagging.

"Fuck fuck FUCK." With a loud groan and a particularly powerful thrust, salty fluid fills your mouth. You can feel his dick twitch as it spurts ropes of thick cum to the back of your throat and paints the roof of your throat.

Your instinct is to swallow. But you don't dare to. You're better trained than that.

"Show."

Obediently you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue to showcase his milky white cum covering your wet muscle.

Toji grins. He presses down on your tongue, letting the cum drip onto his thumb before pushing it back in.

"Swallow."

Gojo Satoru- Face sitting

For all his yapping and bragging Gojo Satoru is a service dom (though he will never ever admit it)

He's so smooth talking you into it

"Baby, baby, please, I always make you feel good don't I?"

"Shit baby, you're so messy."

You can barely hear Gojo's voice over your moans strung out on your lips. You can't think, fuck, you can so much as breathe as his tongue laps and licks your quivering hole from under you.

Gojo moves with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of heat and electricity through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, warm, a perfect blend of pressure and softness that makes you melt. You can feel every movement, every flick and swirl around your clit, every time he enters in you with an unhurried intensity, drawing out the pleasure until it feels almost fucking unbearable. Remember how only a few minutes ago you were terrified of crushing his face under your weight? How stupid were you to think that would stop him, that any of your protests and concerns would prevent the Gojo Satoru from devouring you until you sobbed.

"Stay still f'me wont you."

You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, a teasing contrast to the cool air around you. His hands grip your hips firmly, grounding you on his mouth, grinding you on his mouth, so your legs rest on either side of his head, your body responding instinctively to ever prod, nip and suck of his tongue.

"G-gojo please wa-" You cut your self off with a low whine when his soft lips wrap around your pearl and gently sucks.

“Mmmmm” Gojo moaned against your pussy making your stomach twist. “Taste like heaven babe”.

Geto Suguru- Breeding kink

As said multiple times before, above all else Geto Suguru is a family man.

Sure, he loves fucking load and load of cum into you until it drips out from your cunt like a milky white river

But what really sets him off is the idea of you fully and round with his kids. Oh boy. He really cant help himself.

Maybe there is something deeply fucking wrong with Geto Suguru. Maybe there is a fuck up in his brain chemistry that makes him think about stuffing you with his cum 24/7 until your begging for him to stop. Otherwise, he is afraid that there is no excuse for how he is acting right now, how he is fucking you in this moment, like an animal in heat.

Honestly, it's was a miracle you even managed to stay conscious.

“Fuh-fuck I-I cant- fuck -please Sugu~” Tears swelled in your eyes, staining the pillow your face is buried in as you struggle to remain on all fours. Fucked good? Try being fucked stupid, you can't even form a coherent thought from the delicious collision of Suguru tip against your cervix. The friction is enough to make you scream but you've been doing that for hours now, your throat is too hoarse to even moan at this point.

"What princess," Suguru coos, rocking his hips into your creamy cunt from behind, doggy style, the fap fap fap sound of his pelvis against your ass filling the air. "You want me to, what? Stop?"

In one quick motion, your body is flipped over, his cock not once leaving you empty for a second. He pushes you into a mating press; knees held against your shoulders to expose your entire lower half to him, the perfect view of the hole Suguru currently has his dick buried inside. The sight of you leaking around him makes his toned stomach tighten from arousal.

“Fuck doll your killin' me.”

You let out a groan of your own at how the curvature of his dick digged itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up. The shuddering of his legs against you let you know he is on the verge of going over the edge. You need to be filled, oh god you need his cum spilling inside you.

Eager to be the cause of his orgasm, you buck your hips forward against him helping him to get himself off to your soaked insides.

"Shi-Im gonna-" Suguru cuts him self off with a low groan as he pushes himself flush against your pussy and throws his head back in the air. You can feel the warm liquid inside you, strings and strings of hot cum filling you up as he held you in his arms. It made your body shake, his load weighing at your stomach like it was forming a bulge with how much there was.

Sukuna- Fingering

Sits you in his lap on his throne while he is having a meeting, and fills you with his fingers.

The fingers are so thick and long, two is enough to have you creaming.

You are going insane.

You needed more, more friction, more speed, more impact. One of Sukunas fingers wasn't possibly good enough, at least with how painfully slow he was moving.

You paw at his kimono, slightly tugging on the robs why he continued to discuss with some dumb advisor something you couldn't be bothered to focus on. If it weren't for the blanket covering his movements you are sure that random guy would run right out the door, which is something you were considering.

 More, more, more. The thought consumed you, your toes curling and uncurling over the blanket as you buried your nose into Sukunas chest.

"Kuna..." You let out a low whine, low enough so only he could hear. "Please..."

Sukunas expression doesn't change, he doesn't even look at you, but his hand movement does. Without warning he slips another thick finger into your creamy cunt and curls, massaging your spot with the pads of his fingers.

You can't help but rock your hips back and forth, trying to suck him in deeper. You don't even notice that the advisor has left until you feel Sukunas breath against your ear.

“Greedy little thing.” Sukuna chuckles, intently watching the pleasurable facial expression you make as you fuck your self on his hand. He starts pumping his hand in earnest, covering your mouth with one large tattooed hand when you start crying out, jerking in his hold. It’s too much, the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your sensitive walls, the wet little pap pap pap of his palm hitting your clit, the blinding ecstasy that’s coming closer and closer.

Your about to warn him that something feels weird when it hits you. As the wave crashes within you, it radiates outward, a ripple that electrifies the air, catching you in its grip. Your breath hitches, a sharp gasp and a loud moan escapes your lips, and suddenly everything around you pulses with the same rhythm, each beat perfectly aligned with the surge of ecstasy rushing through your body. You don't even notice the water gushing out of your pussy, soaking the blanket and Sukunas hand. Your skin tingles as though you’ve been swept up in the aftershock of their orgasm, and you have to bury your head into Sukuna's robes to ground yourself from the pleasure.

"Such a good girl," Sukuna coos, "Now I just have to fuck you don't I?"

[ohproserpine]

i. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"

"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"

“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"

"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."

Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."

Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."

"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~" 

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"

Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."

Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."

"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.

Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."

"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."

“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”

Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."

“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”

"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”

.

Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town. 

A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.

It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers." 

Charming. 

With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman. 

Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow. 

As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.

"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"

‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'

"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”

Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."

Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.

"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.

Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.

Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.

"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.

The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.

Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.

As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"

Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"

"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.

In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.

Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.

He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.

“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.

Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.

The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.

"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”

With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.

‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.

Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.

There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.

"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "

"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."

A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.

"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"

"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."

Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."

“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.

With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.

Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead. 

This man could fucking dance.

As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.

"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.

"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."

After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.

"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.

Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."

While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.

As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose. 

What were you doing to him?

"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"

Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.

"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.

Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."

Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.

Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.

However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.

"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."

Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.

Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.

"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout. 

"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."

Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"

He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.

"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"

“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.

“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."

Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.

"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said. 

Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.

"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.

With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit. 

Yes, he shall see you very soon.

Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."

[propertyofwicked]

HOT WINGS - LN

lando and his girlfriend take on the quadrant hot wings challenge

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open! ✧

warnings - literally none, quite short, some swearing. this is mainly just chaos if im completely honest

masterlist the playlist

“ok guys we’re starting off easy - this is siracha, i believe,” max said, looking to lando and y/n who sat opposite him.

“easy? i get lemon and herb at nandos,” lando whined, but still taking a bite from the wing.

“lan it’s just siracha? that’s basically mayo?” y/n told him, staring in disbelief as she saw him wince at the spice.

“easy for you to say - you smother your food in it like there’s no tomorrow.”

“max just ask the question,” she prompted, ignoring her boyfriends complaints.

“ok bossy - erm, what was your first experience of motorsport?”

the two of them answered the questions as best as they could, max trying not to laugh harder with each spice increase. even y/n was struggling, but not as much as lando who was now turning red and standing up to walk off the pain.

“this is “da bomb” - 300,000 on the scoville scal- lando are you good?” max started, interrupting himself at the sight of lando ripping the lid off the ice cream tub.

“just ask the fucking question max,” lando shouted, whilst rubbing ice cream around his lips, “please.”

“you’ve gotta eat the chicken first you muppet,” y/n chimed in, holding out a wing with the tiniest amount of sauce on it.

“hold my hand,” he asked her, taking the wing from her before grabbing her hand and interlocking their fingers. his grip was tight, and it didn’t help that he remained stood up, so her arm was suspended in the air as they both took a bite of the chicken.

“hold my hand??” max said through his laughter, “you’re eating chicken not giving birth?”

“the pain is worse,” lando told him, quickly dodging the wing that y/n launched in the direction of his head.

“y/n - can you explain this photo for everyone please?” max asked, holding up his phone to show an image of her, fast asleep on his bathroom floor, shoes still on and her head using a box of fries and donner kebab as a pillow.

“max fewtrell you PROMISED you’d never bring that picture up,” she shouted, covering her mouth as the spice travelled.

“answer the question.”

“i was drunk and tir- and oh my god is this sauce even legal?” she asked him quickly, sticking her tongue out to attempt to weaken the intensity.

“you know there’s still more, right?” he laughed at her, watching the way her arms reached out to lando. though she didn’t want him, she wanted the ice cream he was clutching to his chest, but he wouldn’t give it up.

“lando pass me the fucking ice cream or ill tell everyone that you cry when you cum”

“oh god please cut that out,” lando laughed, though giving up the ice cream quickly.

“no denying it though mate?” max laughed out, smacking his hand on the table.

“my mouth is in too much pain. should i be sweating? why am i sweating?” he continued, grabbing the bottle of milk in front of him.

“lando - can you explain what happened in this picture here?” max asked, holding up his phone once more.

milk shot from lando’s mouth, spraying across the table and onto y/n as he saw the picture, laughter taking over.

“i’m just not cut out for cycling,” he said with a shrug, before downing another mouthful of milk.

“why was his picture so much nicer than mine?” y/n asked with a whine before shovelling more ice cream into her mouth.

“you always look good y/n,” lando tried to reassure her with a smile.

“shut the fuck up,” she replied, flinging a spoon of ice cream at him, melted slightly as it landed slap bang on his nose.

“i know you’re lashing out because of the spice but honestly that is quite refreshing,” he laughed at her, using the back of his hand to wipe the food away.

“ok - hell fire hot sauce, this one is 2 million on the scoville scale.”

“2 MILLION?” lando shouted at his friend, y/n mouth just opened in disbelief.

“it’s ok baby we’re almost done,” she told him, rubbing his shoulder softly.

“i can’t wait to feel my mouth again,” he replied, ignoring her affection slightly before turning to face her as he wiped the sweat off her forehead, “if you look like that i don’t want to imagine what i look like.”

“rude.”

the two of them took their final bites, trying to remain sitting still as the spice took over but with little success. y/n took to crouching down on the floor, clutching at lando’s arm as he laughed at her.

“y/n, final question - who is the best looking f1 driver?” max asked, looking between his friends with a grin.

“ever or current?”

“ever,” max told her as lando whipped his head round to stare at her intently, but she didn’t notice as she had turned her head to stare into the camera directly.

“jenson button i am asking for one chance,” y/n said bluntly, bringing her hands into a prayer.

“jens- Y/N?? are you kidding me right now?”

“he’s a good looking man what can i say,” she replied with a shrug, smiling wickedly at her boyfriend, “at least he doesn’t have ice cream running down his face right now.”

“what about current drivers?” lando asked her, attempting to remain composed despite the fire burning through his mouth. she turned her head to the camera again, slowly.

“fernando alonso i am asking for one chanc-”

“FERNANDO?” lando shouted, milk spilling down his top once more, “when my mouth doesn’t feel like literal hell we are so breaking up.”

“but if someone asked you who the best looking member of quadrant was you wouldn’t say me,” she retorted before taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“well no id have to say max.”

“exactly.”

“y/n don’t be silly - look at him!” lando shouted back, hand extending to point at the man who was now wheezing in laughter, clutching at his sides.

[shadowdaddies]

Overheard

Azriel x Reader angst → smut

based on this request

warnings: smut below the cut, exhibitionism

“Have a good night,” you murmured to Feyre, pulling away from her hug as you gave one final wave to the other females in the room and turned in search of your mate.

Cassian’s deep laughter boomed from the drawing room, and you smiled as you followed the sounds of his and Rhys’s sounds of jest, sure that was where your mate would be as well.

“A threesome?” Azriel’s voice cut through the room, stopping you in your tracks. Heart pounding in your chest, your cheeks flushed with deep embarrassment as Azriel continued. 

“You think she would be interested in a threesome?” he asked again, incredulous at what seemed to be Rhys’s suggestion by his response.

“I’ve offered the idea to Feyre before - it’s certainly an option to spice things up if you’re bored,” the High Lord purred.

Chest caving in on itself, you could feel the weight of your heart crumbling inward at everything you’d overheard. The thought that you weren’t enough for your mate brought tears to your eyes, guilt and worry wracking through your body. 

Azriel was the first and only person you had ever had sex with, but he’d never made you feel insecure about it until now. Biting your lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, you made intentionally loud steps towards the drawing room and listened to the conversation stop.

Peering your head around the doorway, you forced pleasant smile as you tried to look at Azriel and failed, gaze falling to focus on the siphons at his shoulders instead. 

Willing your most even voice, you managed to ask Azriel if he was ready to go home in what you hoped was convincing calm. With a subdued nod to Rhys and Cassian, you turned away from them without waiting and exited to the balcony.

The cool night air was a balm against your heated cheeks, damp lashes drying from the gentle breeze. “Is everything alright?” Azriel questioned softly, a scarred hand resting gently between your shoulder blades as he came to stand behind you.

“Fine, Az,” you eked out, granting him a curt nod before turning to help him lift you into his arms. “I’m just tired,” you lied, and while Azriel sensed it, he said nothing before holding you to his chest and shooting into the sky towards home.

Days passed with the same tension, Azriel’s very touch reminding you of how unsatisfying yours was to him. You curled up on the far side of the mattress at night, cold sending shivers down your spine despite the heated hazel gaze at your back, silently begging for answers to your avoidance. 

But each time those golden eyes found yours and you found yourself yearning for Azriel’s touch, you were quickly drawn back into yourself and your apparent inadequacy. If Azriel would not talk to you about his desires in the bedroom, then you wouldn’t speak to him about what you had heard.

A week passed of the same routine - mumbled pleasantries and cold bedsheets - when you stood before the mirror, applying the finishing touches to your makeup before family dinner at the River House.

“You look beautiful,” Az murmured shyly from where he stood in the doorway. For a spymaster, he was incredibly clueless as to what he’d done wrong to deserve your distance this week. “Are you alright to go to dinner? We could stay here and talk, just the two of us.”

Biting back the bitter laugh that threatened to bubble out, your eyes slid to his through the reflection of the mirror. “No, Azriel, I’m perfectly happy to go to dinner.”

Your shoulder barely brushed his arm as you twisted through the doorway, slipping outside without bothering to see if he followed. Stepping into the cool evening breeze, you found only a moment of relief before the realization hit you that Azriel would need to carry you to fly.

With a frown, you looked over your shoulder to see your mate watching you with amused interest, hands tucked into his pockets as he shifted his wings playfully. 

“Since you’re so intent on avoiding me, do you intend to walk to dinner? It should only take you a few hours... I could save you a plate,” he teased, mirthful eyes glittering in the glow of the setting sun. 

“Or, you could let me fly you there?” he asked, arms outstretched, a satisfied smile stretching across his face to match as you begrudgingly stomped toward him and looped your arms around his neck.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, warm breath fanning your neck in a way that reminded you just how untouched you felt. Warm hands wrapped around the back of your legs, and you were lifted effortlessly, cradled into the toned heat of Az’s chest.

Taking off into the sky, Azriel loosed a defeated sigh when you turned your head away from him once more and opted to focus on the burning embers of the sun sinking over the mountains. 

With the River House in sight, the tension in your body only grew as you were forced to remember last week - the males’ conversation that was the very reason for your current ire - unsure how you could put on a normal facade for this dinner. 

Setting you down gently on the grass, Azriel tucked his wings in behind him, but as you turned to head into the house, his hand wrapped around yours in silent request. “Please talk to me,” he pleaded, voice rough with unspoken emotion.

Turning over your shoulder, you felt his guilt - and furthermore, his need - through the bond, striking you dumb. Gaze focused on you, touch hot against your own, you nearly caved to your desire for Azriel right there when the front door swung open.

“Come on in, we’re waiting on you!” Cassian hollered from the entry, effectively shattering the building tension as you recoiled into yourself once more.

“Come on, Az,” you muttered, locking your fingers with his as you plastered on a fake smile and led him into the foyer where Rhys and Feyre stood smiling.

Giving them each warm hugs, you feigned a pleasant manner as best you could before wrapping an arm around Azriel’s bicep - the most eager you had been to touch him all week - and his eyes flickered with something like anger at the motion.

“Excuse us, we need to have a talk,” Azriel growled out, his attempt at remaining civil much weaker than yours as he pulled you back towards the same drawing room you’d overheard him in last week. 

“Go ahead and start eating without us,” Azriel called over a shoulder, just before Cassian and Mor could voice their complaints. 

Shadows swirled around you, pushing the door closed with a click as Azriel’s arms caged either side of your head. “You can be angry with me all you want - I won’t stop you from processing whatever you need to feel in your own time - but we will not fake this relationship. I won’t pretend like everything is fine when it isn’t, and touch you in front of my family when you haven’t wanted to be near me all week.”

Your heart tumbled at his words, guilt weighing on you at the thought of showing your mate love that was anything less than the pure adoration you felt for him. But those feelings were quickly quelled as you remembered where you were, and your fierce gaze lifted to the shadowsinger’s.

“You won’t be ‘fake,’ is that it?” you taunted, chest heaving at the sheer anger you finally released after bottling it up for too long. “You won’t touch me in front of your family, because cauldron forbid they know something is wrong, but you would talk to your brothers about our sex life?”

Confusion flashed across Azriel’s face before shifting to anger that matched yours, his hands flexing against the wood behind you in an attempt to leash his ire. “What are you talking about?”

With a disbelieving scoff, you gestured dramatically to the room where he’d sat last time you were here. “I heard you, Azriel. Last week at dinner, you asked Rhys and Cassian if they thought I would be interested in a threesome. You never mentioned that to me, never even hinted that you might be ‘bored’ like Rhys said. You couldn’t talk to me, but you could talk to them?”

Your voice broke on the last words, too hurt to speak anymore. How could you trust your mate if he told others you weren’t good enough, and wouldn’t even tell you?

“Hey,” Azriel murmured, his voice much gentler as scarred hands cupped your cheeks, thumb wiping at a stray tear that had escaped. With a deep sigh, Az bent to press a kiss to your forehead, resting there for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“My brothers are idiots,” he growled. “Rhys and Feyre like to bring others into the bedroom on occasion, and he was only teasing that they’d be interested in joining us.” 

Pulling away, Azriel looked down at you with an intensity that made your legs feel weak, one hand tucking under your chin to tilt your face to his. “I have never, ever found sex with you to be boring.” He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him at the thought.

“We were made for each other,” he whispered, lips hovering against your own. He released your chin in favor of sliding his hands down your body, resting on your waist where his thumbs rubbed soft circles against the fabric of your dress. 

“You make me feel like nothing, no one, ever has before,” he breathed, the scent of your combined arousals dizzying. Your head fell back against the wood of the door, legs parting in silent plea for more of his touch that you’d been missing.

“I’m sorry, Az. I should have asked you before assuming,” you apologized, lips capturing his in a messy, quick kiss. “And now that you’ve explained, I’m not upset if bringing in Rhys is something you’d like to talk about.”

Shadows swirled erratically over Azriel’s shoulders, grip turning firm on your hips. “I am not interested in sharing you with Rhys, or any other male, for that matter,” he ground out, body pressing yours firmly against the door. “But since Rhys is so interested in our sex life, I’m happy to show him how not-boring it is.”

A knee pushed your legs open, scarred hands lifting your hips to settle your heat across Azriel’s thigh while shadows bunched your dress skirts up to your waist. 

“I want you to be loud for me, love. Let them hear those pretty moans,” Az murmured against your neck. Onyx waves tickled your skin as warm lips tracked down your jaw, neck, chest. Pushing down the straps of your dress, he groaned at the sight of your breasts as they sprang free, skilled fingers teasing and twisting your nipples in tandem with your hips rolling needily against his quickly-dampening pant leg.

“Please,” you whispered, hands struggling to find purchase in your mate’s hair. “I need you now.” 

“As my mate wishes,” Azriel murmured, undoing the ties of his pants before lining himself up at your entrance.

Cock rubbing through your slick folds, you mewled at the feeling of his tip brushing your clit, breathless as your lips parted at the stretch of him slowly pushing inside of you. Azriel held you suspended against the wall, his length speared impossibly deep inside of you while shadows roamed your body, cool wisps of air teasing places only they and their master knew.

“You are so beautiful,” Azriel whispered, chasing your lips with his own as he pulled out slowly, only to thrust sharply back inside of you. 

A moan tore through your body, hand flying to your mouth instinctively to muffle the obscene sounds. Eyes gleaming with feral delight, Azriel tutted in disapproval. 

“I told you, I want everyone to hear those pretty noises,” he teased as dark tendrils wound around your wrists and pulled them taut above your head. 

“Don’t hold back,” was his only warning before Azriel started pounding up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as you bounced limply on him, the pleasure too much to think of anything else.

You couldn’t hear so much as feel moans and mewls leaving your throat, raw sounds of pleasure echoing through the space as you neared your climax. Back bowed against the wooden door, your eyes shuttered at the feeling of Azriel’s thumb on your clit, sending you spiraling into a blinding orgasm. 

Legs shook, and you thanked the Mother for a strong mate who held you as the last of your high wracked through your body, leaving you weak and satiated. Azriel moaned, sweat lining his brow as your mate’s cock twitched inside of you, warmth flowing into you when he hit his own high.

Sweaty limbs tangled with each other, euphoric smiles plastered on both of your faces while you collapsed to the floor in Azriel’s arms. 

“You’re right,” you whispered softly against his chest. “I don’t know how I believed that could be boring.” Azriel laughed loudly at that, his hand affectionately threading through your hair as he pressed his lips to your head.

“No, I can’t imagine ever getting tired of you,” he swore, voice soft as velvet. Slowly, you both stood and pulled on your clothes, giggling at your weak attempts to look presentable - everyone knew what you did, after all.

Walking back down the hall to the dining room, you turned the corner to find everyone at the table staring at you with varying levels of shock and amusement. Azriel’s hand found your lower back, your mate the picture of nonchalance as he guided you to your normal seats and began loading your plates with food.

You looked around to see they hadn’t eaten much, eyes flicking to Mor who swirled her wine across the table. “You haven’t started eating?” you questioned softly, reaching for your own glass of water.

Red lips curved into a wry smile. “No, I don’t think many of us have the appetite anymore,” the blonde teased, arching a brow as honey eyes flicked between you and Azriel.

Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you struggled for words when Azriel spoke up for you. “Well, we have worked up quite the appetite,” he drawled, sending you a wink that had the table laughing and silverware chiming as everyone continued with the meal.

Pulling apart a piece of bread from your plate, you felt a warm, familiar hand slide dangerously close along your inner thigh. The scent of cedar and mist invaded your senses as Azriel leaned in, lips brushing your ear. 

“Make no mistake, I will be having dessert when we get home,” he teased, squeezing your skin softly before turning back to his food.

[sanguineterrain]

YES. BODYGUARD JASON TODD.

He's used to being looked over, just seen as meat & muscle (he doesn't mind, it's part of the job) but you're the first "job" who actually sees him, talks to him, makes him laugh 🫠 he doesn't know what he'll do if someone actually tries to put their hands on you 🙂

hiiii aud thank you for the scrumptious jaybird thoughts <3 so begins my bodyguard!Jason agenda!

bodyguard!jason todd x gn!reader. fluff, pining, and tension so thick you could cut it with a batarang.

All fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Y'know, I think you just keep me around to carry your bags."

You grin over your shoulder where the Red Hood trails behind you, always five paces behind. Your takeout bag is in one hand, your new shirts in another. He wears a red mask over the lower half of his face, like always. Only seeing his eyes used to unnerve you, but now it's a comfort, finding his gaze in a crowd.

"That's not true. I also keep you around for something nice to look at," you say.

He tilts his head. Your belly flutters. "Flattery will get you nowhere, trouble."

"Flattery got me outside of my hotel, Red."

He sighs. "Tricking the hotel concierge doesn't count."

You laugh. "Sure it does. I think it does." You stick your arm out. "Will you walk next to me?"

"You know my rule."

"But you can easily cover me if you're next to me! And I'm so good at ducking. See?"

You duck and straighten a few times in a row to demonstrate. A few people stare. You ignore them. Hood's eyes crinkle in a way that tells you he's smiling.

"Mm, incredible technique. Wonder who taught you that. A ruggedly handsome bodyguard, perhaps?"

"Always hungry for the credit," you say. "Despicable."

"Ain't I?"

You turn around and stop. He stops five paces behind. You take a step forward. He takes a step back.

"I wanna see your face when we talk," you say, face pinched.

"Not in public, trouble. It's for your safety. You know that."

"Can't you come a little closer?"

None of your friends are like this with their personal guards. A moment from a friend's birthday party resurfaces.

It's almost like you'd rather be with him than us. You know he's just doing his job, right?

Hood stays exactly where he is. "This is the ideal spot for covering you. Now, c'mon. Thought you wanted to shop."

You sigh and let your arms flop to your sides. He must be nervous today. You can't imagine why.

"Fine. Be that way."

You hurry ahead. Hood doesn't lag behind. Stupid long-legged bodyguard.

"You can be mad at me as long as you stay safe," he says.

You turn again, about to really bitch about how strict he's being. But his proximity stops you short. He's inched closer, so close that you can properly see his eyes.

"This close enough for you?" he asks.

Hood's eyes are warm in the light, mossy and rich. His lashes and brows are dark and thick. Once or twice, you've seen a splash of freckles across his nose. The bridge of his nose is crooked like it's been broken one too many times.

Dear God, you yearn to know him.

Your stomach does more flips. Hood watches you, half-lidded.

"What're y'doing, trouble?"

His voice is soft, the way it gets when he's trying to smooth over a tiff between you. You can't figure out why he does that. You always get over it. And so does he. He has no choice.

"I'm looking at you, Red," you say.

"Yeah? What're y'lookin' at me for?"

"'Cause I want to."

He blinks. "Me? Not much to look at."

You look at each other for another minute. The want bubbles up again, spills out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"Please walk next to me," you say. "I need to know you're there."

He leans in to speak, black curl tumbling over his forehead. He smells sweet, like apples and spice. You almost appreciate the danger in your life because it keeps you in the Red Hood's line of sight.

"Wha's the matter? Y'nervous? I'm right here."

Oh, you're nervous, alright. Just not in the way he thinks. The way you ought to be.

You turn around. For your sake and his.

"Not nervous. Just... just... never mind. You pick where we go next, Red."

"It's your day. 'M just the driver," he says.

"If you won't walk next to me, the least you can do is pick where we go."

"The least I can do, huh?"

It's clear he isn't going to choose. So you watch him instead. You turn the corner and sneak glances over your shoulder. You don't care much about shopping anymore anyway. It's only an excuse to go out. To be alone with him.

Your answer comes. It's only for a split second, but you catch it anyway. He taught you to notice things after all. Says it could be the difference between living and dying.

You immediately change course. Hood follows you easily, and you breeze through the bookstore's entrance. You sneak a look to gauge his reaction. He's looking around, but that could just be him clocking the exits and obstacles. You grab his hand. He looks at your joined hands, then at you.

"Feeling lost?" he asks.

"No. Just trying to keep you present. Nothing’s gonna happen in a bookshop, Red."

That crease in the middle of his forehead returns. "'S my job to plan for the worst. Keeping you safe is the only thing that matters."

"Not the only thing."

His eyebrows rise. "Whaddya talking about? 'Course it is."

You look at your joined hands. This is bad. This is really, really bad. You'd might as well pull your heart out of your chest and let Hood carry that too.

You start to walk, fingers slipping out of his. Hood doesn't try to rejoin them.

He stays closer in here, close enough that you can talk quietly and smell his apple pie scent.

"What do you like to read?" you ask.

Hood glances at you. "Clocked that about me, did you?"

"I was taught by the best," you say sweetly.

He hums. Doesn't joke or laugh. Just makes a soft sound. It's not often you render him speechless.

"I loved Frankenstein as a kid. I always hoped he'd love his monster, but..."

Hood disappears for a moment, lost in his head. You take his hand, heart be damned.

"Red?"

He looks at you again. His eyes are wild. Sometimes, it seems like they glow.

"My... my dad used to read it to me," he says. "One time I asked if he'd love the monster anyway. He promised he would."

You rub his knuckles. He flinches, like he's forgotten where he is. 

"Someone's devotion to our monstrous parts is something we all want," you say.

You spend more time in the bookstore. Hood attracts a few stares, like always, but you're left alone. He carries your shopping without complaint, without strain, and you wonder if your friend was right, if this is just a job.

You buy a special edition of Frankenstein under his attention. Then you turn around and hand him the book. He keeps it under his arm.

"Ready to head back? Y'hungry?"

"That's for you," you say.

"Hm? What is?"

"The book. It's for you, Red."

Silence. The second time that you've stunned the words out of him. You're on a roll.

"Y'don't have to do that," he says, gentle as can be.

"It's a present for you. A thank you."

Hood shakes his head. "You don't need to thank me for protecting you. Just doing my job."

"I'm thanking you for being my friend. Because... you are, right? My friend?"

This time, Hood's eyes on you are heavy. You wonder if he can see your heart beating, see your belly fluttering, see the real reason why you get nervous around him.

"Yeah, trouble," he says, book cradled to his chest like it's precious cargo. "I'm yours."

[becca-e-barnes]

Becca, do you have any more dbf!bucky masturbating thots to spare? Pls any crumbs will do🙏🏻❤️

This should technically belong to the ‘Shit he said’ series but this was far too fucking hot and it’s been bouncing around in my empty little head all week

Because the thought of mutual masturbation with dbf!bucky is where my head is at right now. Maybe you’re both a little apprehensive about taking things too fast so mutual masturbation seems like a safe place to start.

“Show me how to touch you.” He’s already got you out of your clothes, his lips are warm on your bare shoulder and dear God, this man is something else.

He’s so much more beautiful naked than he even realises. His skin is so warm against you, a few little grey hairs scattered throughout the darker ones in the centre of his chest and something in you wants to make sure he knows how much you appreciate just looking at him and being able to touch him.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart.” He urges softly, reminding you he’s still very much in the room with you. He isn’t just in your head now.

“Show me how pretty you look when you think of me and touch yourself.” Excitement builds in the pit of your stomach, your fingers slipping between your legs, trailing between your own soaked folds before your fingers start to rub your clit the way you usually would when he isn’t around.

It’s intense with him watching you, his eyes flitting between your face and where your hand is rubbing your messy cunt.

You’re so lost in the sensation of pleasure creeping up your spine that you hadn’t even noticed he’s touching himself now too. His cock is hard, throbbing in his hand while he fucks his fist, dribbling precum over his own fingers already.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re so pretty. For such a smart girl, you go so stupid when you’re horny. Just a pretty little fucktoy sometimes, aren’t you?” This man is filthy and the way his voice seems to have dropped an octave makes you wetter almost instantly. You want to be his fucktoy. You want, if only for an hour or two, to be bent over and mercilessly fucked. He’s got a beautiful way of balancing his respect for you with your mutual desire to explore some wholly disrespectful fantasies.

“Spread your legs, sweetie.” You do as you’re told, spreading your legs and allowing his fingers to trail from your clit to your entrance. “How does it feel to have my precum smeared over your cunt?” You hadn’t realised that’s what he was doing but even just the thought makes you whimper. “Don’t worry. I’ll lick it up for you after you cum for me.” His strokes on his cock are frantic, imagining how you’ll taste mingled with his own subtle precum but even just the promise has your fingers working yourself faster.

[prettyfastcars]

rumours about you | Mob!Lando

Summary: You’re not necessarily happy regarding the announcement your family just made – about how you would be marrying one of their allies’ sons in order to unite forces and what not. You had multiple issues with your family making major decisions about your life just like that, but the main one was that you disliked the one they chose for you to marry. Lando. So you decided to confront him, thinking the two of you would work together and find a way to call off the wedding. But Lando has other plans. 

Themes: arranged marriage, smut, explicit language, enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies ish, degrading kink, dom!lando, slightly bratty!reader

“I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes.” 

When you showed up to his house – or mansion rather – earlier, his butler told you to wait for him in his study room. The butler also said that Lando would be home soon. You were not very patient at the moment given the unsteadiness of your life, so waiting for half an hour was driving you insane. 

Had it not been for the multiple bookshelves to explore and inspect, you would’ve surely lost it. 

Lando paused briefly at the doorway upon hearing the sound of your voice. Then he walked into the room in that arrogant manner of his, that maddening smile on his face, and shut the door behind him. 

The bastard knew he looked good and he flaunted it always. Nice and muscular, that tailored, dark suit looked damn good on him. Little bit of facial hair, brown curls on his head and those damn pretty eyes. Not to mention those natural, extra long lashes that would make anyone jealous. 

He smirked when he caught you checking him out. “Apologies,” He said, “But your future husband is a very busy man, you might wanna get used to it.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the large desk, watching said future husband as he walked straight toward the mini bar and began making drinks. You noticed he grabbed two glasses so at least he was polite. But you weren’t here to have drinks and chit chat. So you got straight to it. 

“I want you to call off the wedding.” You said. 

“This is the third time we’re having this conversation.” Lando sent you a look before turning back to focus on the drinks. “And I’m asking you again, why would I do that?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment. You two had had this conversation twice already. And each time, Lando would just send you home without listening to what you had to say. 

“Because…” You trailed off, then tried again, “Because we would be miserable together. I mean,” You chuckled humorlessly, “Marrying to unite forces? Really?” You sounded disgusted, “That’s so old fashioned.” 

Lando finally walked away from his minibar with two drinks in his hands. He sipped on one and when he made it over to you, shamelessly letting his eyes roam all over your body before he handed you the other glass. You accepted it and took a sip as well. It was some kind of spiced whiskey, and you welcomed the burn. 

He shrugged, sliding one hand into his pocket. “I see no problem with it,” He said, looking you deep in the eyes with his bluish green ones. “It’s been happening for decades in both our families. It’s made us strong, powerful, and wealthy.” 

You closed your eyes and sighed, “Then go find someone else. I don’t want to marry you.” 

Truth is, you’d known Lando and his family since you were a kid. Dinner parties, galas, birthdays, family vacations, he was always around. And you disliked him even as a child. He was too loud, too popular. Then he got older and got hot, then slept around like it was his job. The rumours that circulated around about him were… not very pleasant. 

Lando raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?” He teased. “I’m perfect.” 

You gave him a fake smile and said, “I would rather marry someone who is less of a manwhore.” 

He chuckled. “That just means I have more experience.” He stated, then leaned closer and whispered into your ear, “Experience that I can use to turn you into my perfect little wife. Both in and out of the bedroom.” 

You scoffed, “You’re disgusting.” 

“I’ve been called worse things, princess.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Look just… call it off.” 

He asked, “Why don’t you do it?” 

“You think I haven’t tried? They won’t listen to me. They say I’m just throwing another tantrum. Like I’m some kind of child.” You stated, finishing your drink and leaning against the desk again. Lando stepped closer, invading your personal space, looking at you like you were some kind of oddity. “What are you doing?” You hissed. 

He finished his drink and said, “Just thinking about how I’ll handle your tantrums in the future. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours, I’m very good with brats.” 

You should’ve known this would be useless. So instead of arguing, you said to him, “If we ever get married, I will never let you put a finger on me. You hear me?” 

The asshole smiled like he was looking at a little puppy. “You’re cute when you try to stand your ground, princess.” He said in a lowered voice. “But we both know you’ll turn into a puddle the moment I touch you.” 

Then his hands were on you, holding you by the waist as he pulled you into him. Chests pressing together, you were speechless for a moment as you stared into his pretty eyes. He smelt so good too. 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Lando smirked, “What did you think you were doing, huh? Showing up at my house in a tiny little dress, asking me to call off the wedding, accusing me of being a whore too.” He chuckled. “You’re a mess, babygirl. Don’t you see it?” He asked. “A complete brat who needs some taming.” 

He also noticed the way you clenched your thighs together, like you were craving friction down there. 

“Don’t you see you need me?” His voice was softer now, and still condescending. He leaned in and whispered, his lips brushing against the side of your mouth as he did, “I can help. I can make you the most perfect wife for me. Obediently, polite,” He chuckled, “And dirty, but only for me. I’ll handle all your tantrums in private, and I’ll be so, so good to you.” 

You couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your mouth at the sound of his words. They should’ve offended you, they would’ve if it wasn’t for the wetness gathering in your flimsy underwear. 

He was so close, his lips just an inch away from your own. His scent was driving you insane. You knew whatever was gonna happen from now on would change everything. But you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to. 

So when he brought his hand in between your legs and slid it up your dress, you let him. You let out a gasp when he cupped you down there, instinctively rubbing his fingers against your dripping wet folds. 

Lando scoffed, “See? Told you you’d turn into a puddle.” You whimpered as he lazily circled your clothed clit, smearing your wetness around. “Filthy, little brat.” He chuckled, then pushed your underwear to the side to touch you properly. You let out a loud moan and he smirked, pressing his lips against yours but not kissing you yet. 

“Please…” You begged. 

“Please what?” He scoffed again as he slid a finger inside you and felt you clenching hard around him. “Still want me to call off the wedding?” He teased, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you. “Answer me, what do you want? Hmm? You want to come like a good girl or do you want to be a haughty brat and cause a scene?” 

He stroked you so perfectly, so slowly that it made you lose your mind. “Please, Lando…” You gasped. 

He added another finger as he chuckled darkly. “Look at you,” He taunted, “Showing up here again and again, acting all tough and assertive. Thinking you can tell me what to do? Hmm? You think this is how it’s gonna work?” He pulled away a little to look at your pleading eyes. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll teach you everything. I’ll worship your entire fucking existence. I’ll fuck you until you forget your own name. And in return all you have to do is be a good girl, and eventually, my wife. Yeah?” 

You nodded a little too quickly. He laughed. 

“No more of this call off the wedding nonsense. You hear me?” 

You nodded again. 

“Good girl. See? You’re learning already.” He removed his hands from in between your legs and said, “Get naked, and bend over my desk.” 

As if under some kind of spell, you obeyed immediately. You took the dress off, then removed your underwear and dropped all your clothes into a little pile. You took one look at him and he pointed at the edge of the desk, so you did as he asked. 

As your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the polished wood, your hands laid palm down on each side of your head, you could hear him behind you as he took his suit jacket off and probably also rolled the sleeves of his button up shirt to his elbows. 

Then you felt his hands on you again, rubbing up and down your sides, your hips, your back as he pressed his clothed erection against you from behind. Another whimper escaped your mouth when you felt it. Warm, and hard, rubbing against your wetness. 

He bent down and whispered into your ear, his chest pressing lightly against your back, “You see how nice it feels when you’re obedient, baby?” He trailed his fingers down your spine and in between your legs again. 

You squirmed under him, against the desk. Breathing heavily as he took his time and touched you like he was in no rush. You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you, “Please… stop teasing me,” You sounded just as desperate as you were. 

He kissed your ear, making you shiver just at the mere touch of his lips, before saying, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

The sound of him undoing his belt and lowering his zipper made your heart race. You felt his rough, but warm hands on your body again as he grabbed you on either side of your hips before pressing the tip of his cock against your hole. But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet because of course, he wanted to make you suffer some more. 

“Are you gonna behave from now on?” He asked, sliding the tip of his cock up and down your slit, making you whine and cry out in desperation. 

“Yes…” You whispered. “Yes, just please–,” 

The sound of his hand slapping your thigh cut you off. Followed by a slight sting which made you squirm and whine some more. Lando’s voice was deeper now when he spoke, “What did I say about ordering me around? Hmm?” 

You tried to push back into him but he pulled away chuckling each time you did. So finally you said, “I’m sorry.” 

“Good girl,” He whispered, slowly pushing inside you until he filled you up, feeling your walls tighten around him immediately. “Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel like fucking heaven.” He groaned, muttering under his breath as he fucked you with shallow thrusts. 

Lando grabbed your wrists and pinned them down at your lower back, using it as leverage to fuck deeper into you, harder, faster. He laughed when you began whining even louder, mumbling incoherently as he fucked you. 

“Sure you wanna give this up, baby?” He questioned, gradually building up his pace. “You sure you don’t want this little pussy to be full of me each night? For the rest of your life? Huh?” 

The sound of of you two fucking was driving you insane. 

“You’re gonna be addicted to this cock now, you’re gonna want it all the time.” He boasted. “But you can only have it when you’re a good girl, you hear me?” 

His breathy moans, his raspy voice, your body bumping against the desk with each thrust, the sound of metal from his belt clinking together, it was all too much, too good. 

“Please…” You whimpered, begging for more. 

“Yeah? This is all you needed, isn’t it, baby? Acting like a disobedient brat, thinking you make the rules, all of it just because you needed to be fucked and put in your place, huh?” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. 

You whined, “Lando… I–” 

He cut you off quickly, “Hold it, don’t come yet.” 

He thrust his cock harder into you, making your eyes water and your heart race. Then he just stopped, abruptly. Pulled out and pulled you up from the desk, turning you to face him. 

“You didn’t think it was gonna be that easy, did you?” He grabbed you by the chin as he spoke, staring deep into your eyes. You could barely form a thought. Lando just scoffed and leaned in to kiss you, hard, before pulling away and saying, “Get down on your knees.” 

Lust-drunk and under his spell, you did. You got down on your knees in front of him. You watched how he grabbed his cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open mouth and said, “Now be a good girl, and suck.”  

You opened your mouth wider as he slowly pushed himself deep into your mouth. He grabbed the back of your neck and gently guided you. 

“That’s it. See? You’re learning already? That’s how a good wife sucks her husband’s cock,” He hissed in pleasure. You looked up and met his pretty eyes. He looked down at you like you belonged there, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth. 

You felt his smooth skin along your tongue, tasting his precum as he groaned and hissed in pleasure. You whimpered, circling his tip with your tongue before sucking on it gently. 

“Look at me.” 

When you looked up at his handsome face, he said, “Fuck… you’re so beautiful, you know that? Come on now. Up.”  

Lando had you sit on the edge of the table again before he stepped in between your legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck immediately, fingers sliding into his curly hair as he leaned in to kiss you again. It was a deep kiss again with him growling into your mouth with impatience. 

He kissed his way down your neck as he aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease this time, making you gasp at how good he felt as he began fucking you. 

“You feel that?” He asked, as he grabbed your thighs and pushed them further apart so he could fuck you deeper. “This cock can be all yours, baby.” He whispered, lips brushing against your own as he spoke. “You can have it anytime, all day, every day if you want.” He fucked you hard, fast and deep. Your body would’ve fallen on top of the desk had he not wrapped his arms around you to keep you close. 

You moaned incessantly, not caring if his butler or housekeepers heard. “Lando …” You gasped, “I’m so close…” You whimpered. 

He chuckled. “Are you now?” He teased. “Your little pussy feels so good… so fucking tight like it was made for me,” He whispered against your skin and you barely heard him given your heartbeats echoed in your ear, you were breathless, you wanted more. 

You whined as you felt yourself getting so close to the edge again as he pounded into you relentlessly. You felt a familiar pressure in between your legs, all of it getting too much to handle.

“Lando, please,” You cried out, looking into his eyes and silently pleading. “Please, can I come?” 

He smirked, feeling your walls clench violently around him. “See I told you I was very good with brats. Look at you no longer complaining, no longer whining about wanting to call off our wedding.” His voice sounded deeper when he spoke. Then he saw that look in your eyes, you were close to losing your mind so he finally said, “Come on then, baby. Come all over this cock.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You came with a loud cry of his name, walls clenching around him and milking him so perfectly that he followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thigh tightly and holding you close. 

You rested your forehead on his shoulder as you both caught your breath. He wrapped his arms around your shaking body, caressing up and down your back while you held on to him like he was your everything. 

“So?” He asked in that mocking tone of his. “Still want to call off the wedding?” 

“I hate you.” You mumbled, voice muffled given you’d shoved your face into the crook of his neck. You hated how comforting his body heat was. 

Lando chuckled. “Of course you do.” He taunted. Then leaning down to get closer to your ear he whispered, “Your pussy just strangled my cock so hard I’m pretty sure it left bruises on it. But sure, you hate me.” 

You whined, squirmed a little because his words made a weird wave of pleasure wash over you. 

Lando laughed and said, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, princess.” 

[butchcarmy]

let me love on you

Rating: Explicit (5.4k)

Summary: carmy makes you come once with each: his fingers, his mouth, and then his cock. That's it. That's the summary

Tags: smut, porn with NO PLOT, established relationship, fingering, squirting, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, soft dom carmy, multiple orgasms, slow sex, sprinkling of praise kink, general sappiness

a/n: HIII this is just filth… first time smut posting yay!!! Also fun fact this doc is called “PUSSY EATING CHAMPION!!!!!” hope you enjoy this indulgence!!

You swear to him that you’ve nothing but innocent thoughts when he pulls you into his side. He’s just so warm, heat thrumming under his skin. It would’ve been impossible not to melt into him. Resisting is a futile effort. Besides, it’s not your fault that he has these gentle, long-lashed eyes, and when you stare at them, you have to kiss him. There’s little choice in the matter.

But maybe—just maybe—you’re the one that snakes your hands into his hair. Maybe you’re the one that curls your fingers and tugs, not too gentle, not too rough—just right. 

“Missed you today,” he whispers against your lips. He’s starting to press you against the cushions, but you don’t care. You like it when he’s on top of you. 

“Saw you this morning,” you tease, but with the way his callused hands are up your shirt, it comes out breathless. 

“Yeah,” Carmy acknowledges, “I know. Still.”

“Mm.” You can’t help the smile on your face. “Missed you too,” you admit, and you feel him smile back against your lips. 

“Stop smiling so much, I can’t kiss you,” he says through a laugh. He’s pulled back, so you can see the grin still overtaking his face. 

“You first,” you challenge, and he shakes his head with another short chuckle, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You laugh, too—you can’t help it, not after hearing his wonderful little laugh. You lean your head against his hair, freshly washed and soft. It smells like his shitty old spice shampoo you’ve been begging for him to replace, but you don’t mind the smell so much. Although today, it smells a little bit like a new conditioner of sorts. 

You’re about to ask him if he’s starting using a different conditioner, but then he’s pressing kisses to the side of your neck.  

“Wanted you so bad at work today,” he murmurs against your skin. His hands are roaming down now, playing with the edge of your waistband. “Kept thinking about you like this.”

“Like what?” You breathe out. It’s hard to think when he’s sucking hickeys into the tender skin of your throat. 

“Like this,” he says again, and his left hand snakes down the front of your pants. You bite your bottom lip as you feel his fingertips grazing over your clothed pussy. “Under me, letting me touch you…”

“Must’ve been distracting,” you say, trying to tease, but it comes out far too breathless to hold any weight. 

“So distracting,” he agrees. “Thought about you so much I had to take care of it.”

“You—” You imagine Carmy, locked in the bathroom fisting his cock, and arousal throbs in your gut. “Fuck, really?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. His cheeks are red, and heat flares through you. 

“Touch me,” you plead, suddenly filled with an urgent impatience.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers, dutiful and giving, and his fingers tug your underwear to the side. You let out what feels like a sigh of relief when you feel his fingers pressed against your folds. 

He doesn’t waste any time in rubbing your clit in the way he knows you like, a mix of slow circles and side to side. As he is with all things he cares about, he is efficient, excellent, and this is no exception. Your clit quickly hardens under his persistent touch. With each movement of his fingers, he drags little breaths out of you. 

“Good girl, getting wet for me,” Carmy murmurs against the tender skin of your neck. Two fingers press against your entrance, dipping into the leaking wetness. He rubs the pads of his fingers there to coax you further open, to get you wetter. 

You tuck your face into his neck and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You whimper at the sweet pleasure of his newly slicked fingers drag up your clit. Wetness quickly covers your clit, and it slides easily under his touch, making you shiver.

“Carmy,” you breathe. You’re unraveling, and the both of you know it. His fingers are insistent, taking what it wants from you. God, how you’ve thought about him like this—his broad, tattooed hands shoved down the front of your pants to tease your clit. 

“You like this?” He asks, a bit breathless. His breath is warm on your skin. “You like me?”

“Like you so much,” you get out between moans, and between the noise he makes at that and the growing bulge you’re seated on, you suspect that he likes you, too. 

“You want my fingers?” His voice is low, close in your ear. His lips move from your neck to the side of your head, pressing little kisses there. Each kiss makes you shiver. 

“I do, I want it,” you murmur, hips bucking when his fingers touch your clit in that way he knows makes you react. 

“Then look at me,” he says, and it’s a command.

Reluctantly, you untuck your warm face from his neck. His blue are dark, his pupils blown with arousal, looking at you with a deep hunger. His gaze is strong, unwavering in the way it grabs you. He has always been rather beautiful, you think, but he especially is now with his curly hair falling into his face, expression hungry.

You feel his roaming fingers sliding between your folds before nudging at your entrance. Your entrance pulses once, needy, and he makes a low, pleased noise.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he says quietly, drinking in your expression, and he pushes his two fingers into you.

“A-Ah—“ You bite back a moan, digging your teeth into your lower lip. Your eyes flicker away nervously, but return with Carmy’s soft words.

“Eyes on me,” he commands, gentle yet insistent. You struggle to with the way his two wide fingers gradually stretch you, and with how they just keep going. You guess they’re longer than yours.

“C-Carm,” you whimper, looking at his shakily through wet eyelashes. “Please.”

He smiles at you then, a warm and tender thing. It’s so full of affection it almost makes you want to look away, but you don’t, basking in it.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and he presses his lips against yours. 

His mouth is urgent, almost as if he’s trying to map the feeling of your mouth with his. You reciprocate, rolling your tongue against his, and that’s when you feel him go down to the last knuckle. His fingers are nestled into you now, and your hole sucks at him once, twice.

You moan quietly against his lips, your hole suckling at his fingers nestled deep inside you. He makes a delighted noise of pleasure back, curling his fingers in you and gently stroking your walls. The pads of his fingers drag slowly across your squishy, wet walls, feeling slowly.

But then his thumb is at your clit, rubbing it from side to side, and you feel as if you’re finally unraveling.

“God, fuck,” you gasp against his lips, desperate for a chance to catch your breath, but you can’t. Not with the way he’s thumbing at your clit and rutting his deep fingers in you.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he pants against your lips. “You’re so hot inside.” You let out a quiet, needy whine at his words, unable to say anything with the feeling of his fingers deep inside you.

Carmy keeps you here for a while, just fingering you and thumbing at your clit. Your composure is deteriorating quickly, unable to do anything but pant into his mouth. His fingers are so curious, so dutiful in the way he rubs you everywhere. You’re oozing onto his fingers, dripping down them and smearing onto his palm. 

“I wann’ come, Carm, please,” you beg, pulling back from his hungry kisses to hide your face again in his neck. “Feels good, s-so close.” 

“I’ve got you, baby, I got you,” he whispers. “But I wanna see your face when you cum.”

You clench around his fingers. Hard.

“O-Okay,” you stammer, reluctantly leaning back. His half-lidded eyes are taking you in, so hungry it’s making you want to look away, but another part of you drinks his expression in with delight.

“You like the sound of that?” His fingers are moving again, and this time, they’re quick, brutal. In and out, in and out, they thrust, and the way his fingers slide against your walls is making you tremble.

“Yeah,” you moan, because that’s all you can manage to get out.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Carmy says softly, like it’s a travesty, like it’s a gift from above. His other hand cradles your face, thumb stroking your cheek. It’s an unbearably soft gesture, especially compared to the other one pounding your pussy. The repetitive sound of his insistent fingers is wet and slick. The volume of it would typically embarrass you, but so you’re close you don’t even care.

“Oh god, I’m, I’m gonn’ come,” you gasp, legs beginning to tremble. The pressure, the tension coiling in your stomach is so tight it’s almost scary. Your legs tremble around him.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, as if sending your twinge of nerves. “I’m right here, so come on my fingers for me, okay?”

“Fuck me, Carmy, I—I—“ you moan, eyes momentarily squeezing shut as the heat crescendos, rising and rising and his fingers thrusting and rubbing and thrusting until—

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, and you’re gushing all over his fingers. 

You shakily keep your blurry vision on him, tears beading in the corner of your eyes as you come. Your whole body seizes with the effort, your hole sucking tight at his fingers which stroke you through your clenching orgasm. He leaves no part of you untouched, clit throbbing under his circling thumb. Carmy is nothing but dedicated and thorough.

Through the midst of your peaking orgasm, a sudden surge of wetness gushes out of you.

“Shit,” you gasp, a mixture of panic and arousal. You want to say something apologetic with the way you’re drenching his hand, but the pleasure is so immense you can’t form the words. 

Surprise flashes across his face, and his hand in your pants pauses. But the pause is brief, and then he keeps going, going, going. 

“Fuck, does it feel that good, beautiful?” Carmy murmurs. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you, and maybe he does. You wouldn’t mind. 

“Mhm,” you affirm distantly, gradually riding the slowing waves of your pleasure. You’re shameless rutting into his hand, rubbing your pussy raw against his skin. The squirting was intense but brief, now tapering off into little spurts in his palm. 

He holds you there for a little while longer, stretching out your orgasm like a melty string of caramel. You’re panting, eyes fluttered shut as you catch your breath. He keeps his two fingers inside you until you stop squeezing around him. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you mumble, exhausted from how hard you came. You’re coming back to reality now, and you’re registering how wet the front of your jeans feel. “Did I get anything on the couch?”

“Don’t apologize. It was hot,” Carmy replies, and his honesty makes your chest feel warm. He looks down, checking the couch cushions before continuing. “I don’t see anything. I think your jeans got the worst of it.”

“No, I think that would go to your hand,” you laugh, a bit strangled with embarrassment. He just grins, unabashed in his pleased, almost smug expression. 

“Guess we’ll see.” That’s when you feel him removing his fingers, sliding out of you and your pants. He wasn’t wrong—you definitely do see it.

You’ve spent more time than you’d like to admit staring at his hands. His handsome hands, littered with faint burns and scars from over the years. One of your favorite things about his hands, though, is his tattoos.

A tattoo of a knife stabbing a hand sits on the back of his right hand, and SOU is written on his first three fingers on his left hand. Those are the letters you see staring back at you, glistening under your fluids that coat his fingers. 

“Um,” you start, but you don’t say anything else. Your ears feel hot. Your throat feels dry. Carmy’s staring at his fingers, and they’re shiny under the light. Very shiny. You can see thin rivulets trailing down his forearm, too. Fuck.

Without saying anything, his tongue drags up the fluid dripping down his arm. 

He does this once, twice before licking up his palm. His tongue travels up his fingers before sucking them into his mouth, eyes fluttered shut like it’s honey. You can’t look away, not even when he opens his eyes again, staring right back as you as he sucks your come off his fingers. 

When he drags his fingers out with a quiet pop, they’re completely clean.

“Can I take your pants off?” Carmy asks first before you can say anything. His voice is a little hoarse. 

“Please,” you whisper. You can feel yourself getting hot again. 

You both struggle with your wet jeans, the fabric uncooperative, but he manages to get it off of you. Your underwear is completely soaked, and it’s almost laughable how easily he yanks it off. He throws it somewhere to be found later.

“Mm, you look so fucking good,” Carmy mumbles, eyes glued to your pussy, and you swear you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. His praise sends heat up your chest and across your face, ending at the tips of your ears. 

“You gonn’ fuck me?” You ask, spreading your legs wide for him. He makes a noise of approval. 

“Yeah,” he says, “but not yet.”

You’re confused, but only for a moment. It clicks together when he gets off the couch and moves to the floor to sit. Then, he hooks his arms under your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. With your thighs bracketing his head, his hands grip them to spread them again.

“Oh,” you whisper, realizing. 

“After you come again on my mouth, I’ll fuck you,” Carmy promises. Seeing him between your legs like this is already reigniting your arousal. His curls are soft against your skin, a little ticklish even. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“But what about you?” You ask. You bring your hand to his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. “I wanna make you feel good too…”

“It makes me feel good to make you feel good, baby,” Carmy murmurs against your palm. “Don’t worry about me. I can’t wait to be inside you, but I need to taste your pussy first. Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” you repeat quickly. The heat in your stomach is growing, squirming as his eyes stare at you. 

“Good girl,” he praises lowly, licking his lips, and you have to hold back a groan. The things this man does to you.

“You really made a mess of yourself, y’know.” He drags his tongue up your inner thigh, licking up the slick that dripped down from earlier. “Drenched my fuckin’ hand.”

“I, I don’t remember the last time I’ve, uh, squirted like that,” you mumble back, because you don’t know what else to say. His tongue rolls over the junction where your inner thigh meets your crotch, and you can’t think. 

“Wanna make you do it again,” he confesses like a dark secret. Sucks a mark on the soft inside of your thigh. “Think you could squirt on my cock?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” you groan, flustered by his words. He won’t stop kissing you down there. “M-Maybe?”

“I wanna see it, not just feel it.” You feel his hot breath ghost over your pussy, and you look down at him to see his eyes glued to it. “Need to see your pussy come next time, see how wet it can get.”

“Carmy, oh my god,” you groan, embarrassment white hot on your cheeks. “Sh, shut up…”

“I can do that,” he murmurs, devilish, and he sucks your cunt into his mouth.

“Ah,” you gasp, sounding like the air got punched out of you. The sight of his lips molded to the curve of your pussy is way too much, so much that you have to look away. It’s enough to feel the wet heat of his mouth enveloping you. 

He sucks, and then licks you as he keeps you in his mouth. You throw your head back, panting as his tongue weaves between your folds, pulling the remnants of your previous orgasm into his mouth. He’s also making these little pleased noises, like he’s delighted with the way you taste. 

He pulls back, mouth separating from your cunt with a wet noise. Pants over your pussy as you feel his fingers part your folds. Goes back in, nose buried in your pussy as his tongue buries itself in your hole. 

“Came so much for me,” he pants, retreating for just a second before going back in. His tongue is shameless, stubborn in the way it pushes into your hole. It’s times like this you remember how strangely long his tongue is. It swirls at your rim, pulling in and out to drag your slick out of you. 

“You’re gonn’ kill me, Carm,” you whine, a little delirious with how his tongue feels inside of you. He doesn’t quite respond, just making a low noise of approval you can feel against your pussy. 

One way to get him to shut up is to get him between your legs. He acts starved when he gets like this, focused on nothing else except your pussy like a goddamn animal. You’ve never had anyone go down on you like he does. He takes and takes and takes, licking endlessly into you. 

There’s a part of you that notes the feeling of wetness dripping out of you, but you’re not sure if it’s come or spit. Probably both, but you quickly forget about it. Carmy sucks once on your hole, an incredibly loud and messy noise, and does it again when he hears you whine.

“You taste so fucking good baby, you got no idea,” Carmy moans, sounding almost dizzy. He’s come up for air, hot breath ghosting over the skin of your thighs. You feel a little dizzy too, but in a different way. “You should see yourself. God.” He drags a finger through your thick wetness. 

“I should be the one saying that,” you argue breathily, an incredibly strangled sound. His pretty pink lips are glossed heavily with slick. It doesn’t just coat his mouth, instead also smeared on nearly the entire lower half of his face. Messy eater, you think hazily to yourself, the thought so potent you feel yourself throb. 

Carmy doesn’t respond, just smiles knowingly and gets back to work. 

He keeps you on the edge for a while, purposefully avoiding your clit to lap at you, slurp at your entrance. He goes from sealing his mouth where you’re leaking to languidly rolling his tongue against your pussy, squishing your folds under it. You’re really, really not sure how much more you can take of this. You swear you’re about to explode, between the wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy or his little, pleased moans. He can’t keep doing this, keeping you right at the edge like this—

Suddenly, his lips wrap gently around your swollen clit, and then, he sucks.

You can’t really register the noise that rips itself from your throat, but you do grip his hair with a desperate urgency, all in a plea to keep him there. He lets out a sharp moan when your fingers curl into his hair, and it vibrates deliciously around your clit. 

“Please, please,” you beg, even though his mouth remains at your clit, sucking dutifully. You’re not sure what you’re exactly asking for, but you know you need him. 

Carmy’s face is pressed deep into your pussy. With his lips sucking at the base of your clit, your folds bracket his chin. You’re throbbing, and you wonder if he can feel it. You’re close, very close. 

He definitely knows this, because he sucks your clit in a brutal, quick rhythm, and you’re done for.

There’s the sound of someone crying, and it takes a second too long for you to realize that that’s coming out of your mouth. Tears bead at the corner of your eyes, squeezed shut at the force of your orgasm. When Carmy feels you throb in his mouth, the suction grows gentle. He pulls back, but only for a second. He guides you, and he keeps your clit suckled carefully between his lips. 

Liquid drips out of you again, trailing out of your hole. With Carmy’s face still shoved into you pussy like this, it dribbles down his chin, down the front of his shirt. This time, you don’t care, fists tight in his hair to keep him there. As your grip tightens, you distantly register Carmy sharply moaning, almost as if he’s coming himself. You didn’t think you saw him touching himself, but maybe he was, with the way he sounds. 

You lay there with your eyes closed a little bit, drifting with the feeling. Carmy’s finally peeled his mouth off of you, leaving you to throb and drip in the open air. He always does this to you, that bastard. Wrings you out, sucks your soul out of your pussy and leaves you withered on the sheets. He’s always had an appetite, to say the least. 

When you open your eyes and look down, you see Carmy resting his cheek on your inner thigh. He meets your gaze, and his cheeks have a beautiful flush to them. 

“I saw it, this time,” he says. 

“Huh?” You react, instinctively, and then you remember. The sight of fluid dripping off Carmy’s chin, his tank top so drenched its transparent on his chest—it makes you realize. It must show in your face, because Carmy’s grinning, a small, yet proud thing. His lips are even more glossy than before. “Stop that,” you protest, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re too tired. 

“Stop what?” He responds, playful. He’s still smiling, though. He knows, so you roll your eyes. 

“Were you touching yourself?” You ask instead.

“No,” he admits, and your eyebrows raise. “Got close, though.” 

“Mm.” Wow, you think. The thought of him almost coming, completely untouched, gasping against your spasming cunt—it renders you speechless. “Let me see you,” you say, finally. “I need a minute. But…in the mean time…”

And because he’s Carmy, of course he gets a little embarrassed. You recognize it in the way he looks to the side, at you, and then to the side again before unbuttoning his jeans. 

If you hadn’t just came so hard you saw the pearly gates, the sight of him would’ve gotten you wet. Not to say that you don’t still enjoy it, though. As Carmy shimmies out of his jeans, you zone in on the wet spot on the front of his boxers. His boxers are so tented it looks painful. 

Well, maybe not quite as painful as how hard he is. 

It’s as if you had him in your mouth. His tip is flushed, reddened by nothing except eating you out. It’s dribbling with pre-come. You think you’re drooling. You’ve seen longer cocks, but you haven’t seen any quite as thick. His cock is heavy, and your gaze traces the vein on the underside of it. 

“I want you,” you say, before he can protest. He maintains this bad habit of dealing with his arousal himself after he’s wrung you out. You understand why—he can’t bear to ask much of you, not when he gets self-conscious. But, shit, you want him. You always want him, even if he doesn’t want himself. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, positioning himself above you. He’s so careful, even when you can hear the thinly-veiled arousal just behind it. 

“I’ll need a minute or two,” you elaborate, “but. Yeah.” You smile at him then, and although you mean for it to be more sweet, it’s definitely more salacious. “I want you to fuck me,” you whisper, spreading your legs for him. You snake a hand down to your pussy and spread your lips wide. You clench your hole, too, because you know he’s looking. 

Carmy doesn’t respond for a moment. His eyes are elsewhere, and it makes your smile widen. 

“Goddamn,” he mutters, mostly to himself. His eyes look back up towards you, blue reflected against brown. “You’re just…”

“Just what?” You run your tongue over your lips. 

“You’re way too fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles, like it’s sacrilege. He positions himself over you then, cock resting against the warmth of your pussy. He feels heavy against you and is equally as hot. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, soaking you in. “Shit…”

“Not yet,” you remind him in a whisper. His eyes flutter open again, half-lidded. “Kiss me for a bit instead?”

You barely even had to ask. 

Because he’s so lovely, he kisses you. His lips are hot and wet from eating you out, and you taste yourself on him. Your head is distant after coming viciously twice in a row, and you ride the wave of Carmy’s tongue in your mouth, slow and sweet. And all the while, his hard cock rests heavy against the folds of your hot pussy. It feels like a dream.

You can tell the arousal is getting to his head. Rather, it’s already gotten to his head. His kisses started sweet, slow, but he’s getting hungrier, unable to resist. 

“I’m not gonna last,” he admits, panting against your lips. You pull back to stare into his dark eyes, pupils blown with arousal. 

“That’s okay, I just wanna make you feel good.” You laugh breathlessly. You love seeing him all worked up like this. “Fuck me, Carmy… I’m ready for you.”

“When you say it like that…” Carmy’s amused smile poorly veils his arousal. 

He rubs his flushed head at your sensitive clit, grinding on it, tapping it. You keen, thighs twitching from the little jolts of pleasure. Then he drags himself down, tip of his cock nestled as your entrance, and he pushes in. 

The both of you let out a shaky exhale when the head pops in. Carmy’s panting into the crook of your neck, breaths hot and heavy. 

“Takin’ me so well,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’...shit…” He pushes in further, dragging slowly along your tight, wet walls. 

“Carmy,” you moan sweetly, arms linked around his neck to keep him close. “You feel so good inside me…” You let out a muffled moan into his shoulder when he bottoms out. He fills you up just right, the perfect amount of stretch…

“Dirty girl, fuckin’ squeezing around me like this…” He’s stopped moving, stilling in your contracting pussy. There’s beads of sweat in his hairline. “Fffuck…”

“Don’t you wanna come?” You whisper, and you grind down on his cock, making him moan into your neck. You trail a hand down to trace your stretched lips molded to the shape of his cock. Wetness gathers on your fingertips, and you drag it up to your exposed clit. It’s all so slippery, nothing left untouched.

“Not yet…I wanna at least fuck you a little.” This makes the both of you laugh. 

“Just use me, Carm,” you plead. “However you want.”

This makes Carmy untuck his face from your neck. His expression is nigh indescribable, a mix of animalistic, horny, and eager. 

“However I want?” He echoes back, quietly. 

“However you want,” you repeat, and warmth swells in your gut. As if you couldn’t be more turned on than you already are. 

You’re not sure what you expect from him after that. Part of you expects him to start ramming into you, skin slapping hard against skin. To fuck you so hard that you can barely breathe. To grab at your hips to slam you back down when he fucks forward. It…wouldn’t be the first time. 

So, you admit that when he does the opposite, you’re a bit surprised. 

He drags his cock out slowly, so slowly. It’s almost torture, the way he’s pulling back inch by inch. It forces you to feel every ridge of his cock, every vein and curve against the length of your walls. Your eyes flutter shut, heat surging through you in a new way. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble under your breath. His head is just about to pop out when he pushes back in again, slowly…

“You’re perfect,” Carmy moans. “Fuck, you’re so good…” His cock resheathes itself in you gradually. The slowness of it forces you to really feel how he carefully fills you up to the brim, really feeling the shape of his swollen head inside of you…

After he’s done this two more times, that’s when you realize exactly what he’s doing. 

He’s luxuriating in the feeling of you, taking in everything you can give him. He’s indulging in you like a sin. He’s taking his time to relish in every sensation, every little feeling, every little part of you that he loves. There’s no rush to orgasm, no hurry to finish, only taking the time to let the pleasure permeate fully through the both of you.

Emotion swells in your chest. 

“I love you, Carmy,” you moan all of a sudden. This slow fucking has you feeling a whole new type of crazy. You’ve never felt his cock like this before. 

“Baby,” he whispers. “I love you so much.” Fuck, he’s pushing in again. You just can’t catch a break. 

“Kiss me,” you whimper, and he obliges immediately. 

Although you wanted to kiss him, you’re having a time of it. With this slow fucking, the pleasure’s creeping up on you, and you can’t stop moaning against his lips. He patiently kisses you through it, although it helps that he’s somewhat the same. 

“I’m close,” Carmy moans, verging on a whine. “Can’t take much more…”

“I, I can’t either,” you stutter. The sneaking pleasure is swelling inside of you like a balloon, straining, about to burst. His even thrusts have become hastier, a bit jagged, but still slow. 

“Wanna feel you come on my cock,” he pleads. He’s pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, your neck. “Then I’ll come inside you…please, baby…”

His fingers are messily rubbing your slippery clit from side to side, and that’s all that it takes for you to come. 

“I—I—oh my god—” You let out a high-pitched, wrecked noise as you come tight around his cock, pussy pulsing. Sharp pleasure tightens your body like a bow. You throw your head back, mouth open in a silent scream. He slowly fucks your contracting pussy through it, but not for long. 

“Fucking—shit—” Carmy moans beautifully as he comes, face tucked into your neck. His ragged moans are nestled right next to your ear, letting you hear every little breath and whine he fails to swallow. You feel him pulse inside you, filling you…

After three destructive orgasms, you’re on the verge of falling asleep on the couch. It doesn’t matter that Carmy’s softened cock is still inside of you, either. You’re exhausted.

“Baby,” Carmy murmurs. He’s spooning you, holding you in his arms. He kisses the side of your face, lips dragging tiredly. “We gotta get up.”

“Mmgh,” you grunt back. You’ve both been cuddling on the couch for a while now, but you still don’t wanna get up. 

“Baby,” he tries again, amusement coloring his voice. 

“How about you come three times and see how you feel after that,” you mumble, and that gets a laugh out of him. 

“That’s fair.” He moves carefully, gently slipping of you. The change in pressure makes you sigh, especially feeling him drip out of you. “C’mon. I’ll carry you to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” you mumble, begrudgingly moving to sit up. He scoops you, one hand behind your back and the other tucked behind your knees. The angle makes his cum drip out of you more. You squeeze your hand between your legs, sealing your hand against your pussy. 

“Maybe next time we’ll make it four,” he teases, and you slap a hand against his chest, making him smile mischievously.

“Maybe next time I’ll wreck you instead,” you say, leaning your head against his chest. You hear his low laugh right against your ear, and you smile. 

I love him, you think again, and you close your eyes. 

[pellucid-constellations]

A small drabble dedicated to returning home from Under the Mountain and what that would look like for Azriel.

The second you cracked an eye open, Azriel tugged you closer to his chest in an almost eerie display of sixth sense. You could tell he was still asleep by the even rate of his breath as it puffed over your shoulder, and still, he could tell the moment you woke up. 

It had been that way since you returned home from Under the Mountain. 

Subtle tells made you privy to the desperation he had felt during the decades you’d been gone. He never vocalized it, always too concerned with the horrors you’d been subjected to under Amarantha’s reign, but you could tell. 

You could tell by the way he looked at you, the soft gleam in his eyes so achingly adoring it constantly sent a pang through your chest. You could tell in how he touched you, each pass of his hands soft but determined, as if he were afraid a meaningless touch would send you away again. The way he cared for you spoke volumes—how he pressed you close when you cried over imagined pasts and fended off loud sounds even though they didn’t mean what they used to Under the Mountain. 

The first week after you’d returned you swore he was utterly devoted to you simply being able to eat an entire plate of food and keep it down. You were better at that now, more used to the rich spices back home, but you could still feel the way he intently watched as you ate. 

You weren’t sure when that vigilance would fade—when he would finally understand that you were safe and by his side once more. 

You blinked against the sunlight filtering through bedroom curtains and felt Azriel’s hands curl against your ribs. His wing twitched as it rested over you, and you subtly remembered that he never used to do that. He never slept with you so close and tight and with so much of him covering so much of you. 

After lying in his hold for several minutes, your shoulders shifted with restlessness. 

Azriel woke immediately, his heart pattering harshly against your back as he breathed in suddenly. He jolted his head up before consciousness reached him, a panic spurring him to look around the room with haste. 

This was something else you’d have to overcome together. 

“Az,” you called from beneath him. “I’m right here.”

Azriel snapped his gaze down to look upon you, confusion marring his features before unrelenting relief smoothed the lines on his face. He huffed out a breath that was meant to be a laugh before burying his face in the juncture of your neck, his heart calming as he felt you. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled against your skin. “I’ll get over that.” 

You smiled softly. He couldn’t see it. “It’s okay. I don’t mind reminding you.” 

Azriel slowly unraveled himself from you and turned you to rest on your back. His eyes flitted over your face in admiration, but you could see the way they lingered down the rest of your body as well—examining, ensuring, solidifying your presence. 

You brushed your fingers across his cheek and his lashes fluttered in response. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked. 

Did you have any dreams of her? Of that place? Of the times I wasn’t able to protect you? 

You knew those were the questions disguised beneath the veil of casual pillow talk. 

“I slept very well,” you hummed. “As did you, it seems. You were snoring in my ear.” 

“I do not snore, my love. I cannot snore, it would be an occupational hazard.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You never let me have anything.” 

Joy shone brightest in Azriel’s eyes, but the melancholy that always seemed to linger was difficult to escape. Because you knew him so well. Because you knew he was blaming himself for so much of this. 

“I would give you everything,” he stressed, shaking his head playfully. “But I will not have you spreading lies about me. I do not snore and never have.” 

You bit back a smile and pulled him down by the back of his neck, his nose pressed to yours as you replied, “Says you.” 

He laughed and then he kissed you, his hands never leaving your body, his devotion never dissipating as it streamed down the bond. 

[sexy-celestial]

2023 is:

Regular facials, manis, pedis, massages, Brazilian waxes, lash lifts. Glowing skin. Glowy makeup. Fluffy curls. Microshaded brows. Laser hair removal. Perfect Rx Skincare. Veneers. Intoxicating perfumes. Shopping. Diamonds. Designer bags. Credit card rewards. International travel. Networking. Career certifications. Investing more. Brunch with the girls. Picnics. Farmers markets. Art galleries. Museums. Fresh flowers. Silk scarves. Big sunglasses. Beautiful lingerie. Silk robes. Receiving lots of gifts. Lots of sunlight. Hot yoga. Nature hikes. Tennis lessons. Green smoothies. Candles that smell expensive. Sleeping 8+ hours a night. Bubble baths. Studying foreign languages. Absorbing as much knowledge as I can. Book clubs. Pottery classes. Cooking with fresh herbs, vegetables, and spice. Champagne. Charcuterie & bruschetta. Gelato. Fresh bread. Ocean air. Hugging my loved ones. Pet cat. Giving lots of gifts. Journaling. Meditating. Gratitude. Volunteering. Donating to charity. Manners. Etiquette. Charisma. Therapy. Healthy boundaries. Radical personal responsibility. Positivity. Self care. Abundant love.

[loveshotzz]

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”