#The night of ancient bonfires

[eoinmcgonigal]

09: Bill/Johnny

Sloowly getting through @almost-a-class-act 's wonderful prompts! This one is: Character A has just moved in and it's Character B's turn to tell the new neighbour the neighbourhood's dark secret…

Now, I've set this in rural Scotland. I've given Bill the appropriate language, but I have zero idea how to actually spell it. It's one of the stupidest things I've ever written, but no, I'm not taking it back. Bill Fraser is a teuchter now (for this fic at least).

War is Helloween

-

He’s seen him before. In the darkness of the countryside, folk illuminated only by the built-up bonfire, the occasional sweeps of torches, and the sparkers the children run around squealing with, Bill finds himself looking towards the stranger. It’s hard not to notice newcomers around here, and especially not ones so handsome they turn heads wherever they go. The blond hardly seems like he belongs amongst countryfolk and farmers, but he’s ended up at the fireworks display on the brae all the same. Bill first saw him two days ago in the village shop, where he was with a young woman, a babe in her arms. His sister, the gossip says. Bill’s already heard the older folk muttering about it, wondering where the husband is, and what the brother is doing here. He’s sure he’ll hear all the news the next time he goes to the Fife Arms, whether he wants to or not.

He can’t deny feeling curious, though. Not much changes around here—not usually for the better, at any rate. Besides, the man is good-looking. Johnny Cooper. There’s something about him that catches Bill’s eye, and makes him half want to go over.

He doesn’t, though. Johnny is surrounded by some of the farmers’ wives, and is gratefully accepting bonfire toffee. Bill’s mouth is still sweet with the rare joy of it, Jenny Grant’s recipe as good as he remembers from childhood. It’s as warming to him as the bright fire that’s been built to last, and he’ll try to get another few pieces off of her before he heads back home.

Until then, he stands in the cold November night, waiting. A few friends and folk have drifted by, stopping to chat, offering him a beer, and he nods and listens to the words they have to say, contributing here and there. He finds himself standing in a loose group of men, their attention turning towards the pitch dark beyond the fall of the firelight when a faint torchlight flickers there. Johnny is still on the other side of the little gathering when the fireworks begin. Bill looks away from him, to enjoy the display. It’s nothing like the big, fancy ones he sees on the telly. He wonders what Johnny makes of it. If he likes it here, or if he thinks as little of this place and its people as townfolk usually do, the way of life too small and simple to be worth noticing in their opinion. Plenty outsiders have bulldozed in and then drifted away again, not taking to the lifestyle, or simply missing the glittering lights and apparently comfort of bustle.

Bill likes it here, though. It’s home. He watches the fireworks light up the darkness, and feels something ancient and primal tug at his heart. You can’t feel this anywhere else, he thinks as a chill breeze stirs around the little gathering.

When the last firework is spent, all that’s left is the warmth of the fire, and the people around it. Bill soaks it up, lingering as people start drifting home—the folks with younger kids first, then others following. He snags some more of Jenny’s bonfire toffee, and sees that Johnny is just drifting from the circle of firelight. There’s a set to his shoulders, a sense of purpose about him that makes Bill’s blood run cold.

Half running, he catches up with the man. “Oi!” he calls out.

Jumping, Johnny turns around, laughing. “You scared me!” He’s grinning, the distant fireglow softly picking out the features of his face.

“Far ye gaun?”

A blank look. Bill gestures out at the darkness.

“Yer car? Far’s it at?”

“Oh!” Understanding dawns on Johnny’s face, his smile softening but not fading. “My sister has it. I was going to walk.”

“Tae the village?”

“Um, yes?”

The cold feeling in Bill’s blood grows more profound. “Ye cannae dae that,” he warns.

“No?” Johnny looks around, out into the darkness. “I mean, it’s only two and a half miles?”

Bill shakes his head. “Ye’ll no mak it.”

“Um,” Johnny breathes. He’s not smiling any more. “But I came—”

“Ah’ll gi ye a lift,” Bill insists. “Or, if ye rither, ony ae the fowk here wull gi ye a lift. Just dinnae wauk it an yer ain, aye?”

“O–okay?”

The distant, warm glow of the fire is reflected in the blond’s wide eyes, and Bill suspects that, while he might have got the gist, he’s a bit dazed. Another chill curl of wind swirls around them, and they both shiver.

That seems to decide it. Relenting, Johnny moves closer to Bill. “Where’s your car?”

Bill points back towards the other side of the gathering. “Mandy’ll be glad tae tak ye, if ye’d rither.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m good.” After a few paces, Bill hears a shift in fabric, and a hand is drawn out of a pocket and offered to him. “I’m Johnny, by the way.”

“Aye, Ah ken,” Bill nods. It’s an awkward angle to shake someone’s hand at, the gesture out of place here. He lets it happen, though, giving Johnny a brief, firm squeeze of a handshake. Johnny’s hands are cold, but there’s a warmth that transfers to Bill at the touch. Stickiness too. They’ve both had toffee. It’s the reason Bill hasn’t pulled his glove back on.

He pulls them on now, knowing it’ll be cold for the first few minutes, until the car heats up. There’s a heavy jacket on the passenger’s seat, which he pulls out of the way as soon as he gets in, the wellies in the footwell joining the jacket on the back seat.

Johnny looks so out of place as he gets in, the harsh interior light of Bill’s car making him look pale. He’s probably cold, Bill realises.

“Ye cauld?”

Rubbing his hands against his thighs, Johnny nods. Bill pulls the jacket forward again, offering it over.

“Hae a shottie o this till the heatin kicks in.”

“Thank you.”

They fall into silence as the light dims and Bill starts the engine. He rolls slowly out onto the single track road that winds its way down the brae and towards the village. They’re near to the planted forest of Norwegian pine when Johnny finally speaks again.

“What’s wrong with walking?”

The headlights fall strangely on the pines for a moment, and Bill watches the shadows shift. “Naebody wauks atween the braes an the village this tid o year.”

In the pause, Bill tries to work out how to explain what people usually figure out, if they move here early enough in the year, or if they have any sense.

“Why not?”

It’s best to keep it simple. “Fowk disappear.”

“They get lost? Isn’t there only one road?”

There is, and it follows the contours of the land, the fall and rise and then fall again down into the village. They are clear of the trees now, and in the gully that curves to the left, is a burn. It’s impossible to see in the dark—the headlights don’t peer down over the edge. “Aye,” Bill has to agree. “Bit thare’s mae tae it then that.”

Beneath Bill’s jacket, Johnny shifts, shivering. Bill reaches out to turn the heat up.

“I’m fine,” Johnny insists. “I just… don’t get it.”

“Dae ye wint tae?”

“I guess?”

They’re one bend away from being within sight of the village, and Bill feels like he can speak easier when he sees the warm glow of the streetlights. He doesn’t need to ask where Johnny lives. Everyone knows.

“Thare’s simmat oot there, simmat auld.”

“Something?” Bill catches the crease of worry lining Johnny’s brow. “Like… an animal?”

“No quite. Hiv ye nae feelt it?”

“No?”

They turn into the lane that leads quickest to Johnny’s home. From the tone of his voice, the uncertainty wavering in it, Bill suspects that Johnny has felt it.

“What is it?”

Bill doesn’t quite know how to answer that. As he pulls up, he leaves the engine running, heat starting to spill enthusiastically into the car. The light from the streetlamps has a different quality to it than the firelight, but, as uneasy as he looks, Johnny still looks handsome. Beautiful, even. It’s warmth like that that keeps the cold and the darkness from taking over everything.

“The lan.”

Johnny blinks. “The land?”

“Aye, this place. Atween the noo an Februar, it’s hungert fae wairmth. Dinnae wauk ootae the village aifter dark.”

“Seriously?” In the safety of warmth and light, scepticism steals over Johnny.

“Aye. Ask aebody,” Bill promises. “Fa telt ye tae come up the braes oniehoo?”

“Um… Mitch? Mitchel?”

“Eejit,” Bill mutters. He can believe that Mitchel forgot to make sure Johnny was getting there and back safely, although he’s of no mind to let the man get away with it when Bill sees him next.

Johnny is toying with the collar of Bill’s jacket. “So this wasn’t some elaborate ploy to get me alone?”

“Elaborate?” Bill echoes. “No, Ah wantit tae mak sure ye got hame safe.”

“I was joking,” Johnny smiles, and Bill realises that maybe he was, but perhaps he wasn’t. He lets out a breath, not sure what to say.

As his jacket is offered back to him, Bill takes it mutely, looking at Johnny’s hands, then up at the beautiful but utterly unprepared young man.

“Thank you, um…”

Bill waits as the silence drags on.

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

Oh. Right. “Bill,” he supplies, aware of the way his cheeks have started to flush. It’s annoying, and he reaches out to turn the heating down. “Ah mean it,” he impresses on Johnny. “Ye haftae stay safe.”

“I will,” Johnny says, with what feels like the right amount of sincerity.

“Good,” Bill nods.

“Thank you, Bill.”

Johnny already said that, but it’s nice to hear it again.

“Good night.”

“Nicht,” Bill answers.

Reaching for the door handle, Johnny goes still. “Um…” he turns around again, his mood tentative. “What was that sweet stuff?”

“The bonfire toffee?”

“I think so. I’ve not had it before. Do you know the recipe?”

Bill does not, but he knows where it’s written down in the old cookbook that used to be his grandmothers. “No, but Ah can get it fae ye.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

“Nae bither.”

When Johnny smiles again, Bill gets the feeling that Johnny would be quite happy to linger here a while longer. He’d be happy if he did. All that lies ahead of Bill is the dark drive home.

“See you soon?” Johnny seems to hope.

Bill nods. “Aye.”

With a bright smile that brings something of the sun to the night, Johnny goes.

Bill isn’t entirely sure if Johnny will pay heed to the warning or dismiss it as nonsense, but what he does know is that the long winter ahead is going to be much easier to bear if he has a chance of seeing that beautiful smile again.

[strang3lov3]

Lookalike

Soft Dom!Joel x Fem Reader

Summary: Joel stumbles upon your dirty mag, noticing your favorite pages bear a striking resemblance to himself! Takes place in Jackson sometime after TLOU

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI SMUT!!!  This is not fluffy even a little bit, kind of pervy joel, kind of sleazy too, smut, female masturbation, cunnilingus, soft dom!joel, shy reader, consensual PIV sex, humiliation kinda, joel loves a full bush, begging, joel is dominant but not like, aggressive?? let me know if I missed any

A/N: Y’all, I am very very very proud of this one! Please enjoy this depravity. And have a lovely holiday weekend <3 I am just a few shy of 1k followers, but consider this my thank you for all of your support 😸💗 

Edit: we’re at 1k!!! Thank you so much holy shit!!

If you really like this story, please leave me a comment! Check out my masterlist

Javier Peña is Joel’s pornstar doppelgänger. I don’t make the rules.

After a long day, Joel was ready to relax and enjoy a bonfire with you. It’s how you spent a lot of summer nights in Jackson, you and Joel and sometimes Ellie just sitting around the fire, sharing stories and shooting the shit.

Tonight Ellie was at Dina’s having a sleepover, leaving just you and Joel together. It was nice to spend nights alone with Joel. Sometimes you’d talk about anything and everything and other nights you’d just share a comfortable silence. After everything you went through on your way to Jackson, it was nice to enjoy some peaceful nights with Joel. 

Upstairs, Joel changed into some plaid pajama pants and a slim fitting t-shirt and made his way through the hall and to the top of the staircase, his heavy footsteps alerting you of his presence. 

“Joel?” you shouted to him from the kitchen. You were preparing a snack in preparation for the bonfire. “Can you grab me a hair tie please?” 

You were peeling apples and slicing bread to make pudgy pies for you and Joel to share. It’s one of the campfire snacks he introduced to you and Ellie. Back before the outbreak, he said, people would use canned pie filling or peanut butter and Nutella as filling for the toasted sandwiches. Now you had to get more creative, so you opted for spiced and sugared apple slices. You preferred berries, but apples were Joel’s favorite filling for dessert. You didn’t mind. He used to make these for his daughter.

“Where can I find one?” he called back. 

“On my bedside table, right by the lamp,” you stepped closer to the staircase so you didn’t have to raise your voice as much. “It should just be a plain black one.”

Joel nodded and walked to your room. At your bedside table, he didn’t see any hair ties. Just some jewelry and a comic book Ellie lent you that she wanted you to read. Perhaps it was in the drawer? 

 Joel opened the drawer and rummaged around your belongings. There was a bottle of your favorite almond scented lotion from the local soap maker, your journal and some pencils, but no hair tie. He should have called out to you to ask if there was another spot your hair tie might be at, but curiosity got the better of him. He knew it was wrong to snoop through your personal belongings, but he couldn’t help himself.

Joel pulled the drawer out a little further and lifted your journal up. His eyes widened at what he saw. It wasn’t your hair tie, that was for damn sure.

 Under your journal was an ancient porno magazine, probably from the 70s or 80s. Joel didn’t bother checking for a date. He had to know what the hell was in this old ass magazine that you were using to get yourself off. He remembered these kinds of magazines from when he was a teenager. They were often tacky and somewhat over the top compared to the explicit videos he’d watched on the internet before the outbreak, but they did the job. Who was he to judge?

Joel sat on your bed and flipped through the pages of the magazine. There were women in frilly chiffon lingerie with bushy and unkempt pussies, just the way he liked them. That was one nice thing about the outbreak, a lot of women ditched the beauty standards of the 90s and 2000s and went au naturale. Joel loved it as a young man then and he still loves it now, decades later.

The magazine nearly flipped itself open to one particular centerfold. It was a man fucking a woman from behind, her back arched and hair covering her face. They were at the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the retro floral duvet cover. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t her who captured Joel’s attention. It was the man. 

He was tall, dark, and handsome with a thick downturned mustache, not unlike Joel’s. He had dark hair and dark eyes as well. Even his nose was similar to Joels, strong and sharp with a curve. Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. The pages were worn and the corners were dog eared, leading Joel to believe that these must be your favorite pages. His ego soared, as if it needed to be any bigger. He always had a feeling that you had a thing for him.

Downstairs, you were growing irritated. “What is taking so long?” you muttered to yourself. Joel was taking forever to find the hair tie you had so neatly placed next to the lamp on your bedside table. After turning off the burner of the stove, you paced through the kitchen and up the stairs.

 “You are such a man, you know? You guys are terrible at looking for things. If it was a snake it would have bit you,” you grumbled out, half talking to yourself and half talking to Joel. You opened your mouth to continue speaking as you walked into your room but froze when you saw Joel on the bed, thumbing through the pages of your dirty secret. 

“I found your spank bank,” Joel taunted with sarcasm, not yet looking at you. He flipped through a couple more pages before turning to face you, his intense stare meeting your flustered expression. 

You were frozen in embarrassment, completely unable to speak, unable to move. Your face felt like it was on fire and you could hear your heart pound in your ears. 

Joel’s low and gravelly voice filled the silence. “Didn’t mean to embarrass ya, baby. It’s okay. Human nature,” he winked at you with a crooked smile. 

You quickly stepped over to him and tried tugging the magazine out of his hands, but he held on tightly. “Joel,” you pleaded as your sweaty fingers slipped off of the paper.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided you. “This dude here kinda looks familiar, doesn’t he?” Joel looked at you with a knowing expression as humiliation filled your chest. Yeah, he looks just fucking like you. Leave me alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel,” you muttered angrily. You were about to burst into flames, whether from embarrassment or anger you didn’t know. You didn’t care. How dare your body put your shame and embarrassment on display? You were giving Joel exactly the kind of sick satisfaction he absolutely did not deserve. 

“Oh, baby. I think you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Look at how you’ve dog-eared these pages,” he used his pointer finger to trace the bent triangles at the corners of the pages. “Guy looks just like me, doesn’t he? Is that what you like so much about these pages?” his southern drawl had your stomach doing flips. “I know they’re your favorite, magazine practically opened right up to them.”

You ignored his question. “The pages were like that when I found the magazine,” you tried lying, but it was a futile attempt. This was bullshit. Joel was the one who was caught red handed, and yet you were bearing the brunt of the humiliating situation. Only Joel Miller could spin this situation to work out in his favor.

“Sure, sweetheart,” you reached for the magazine again, but Joel pulled it out of your reach. “You know baby, you didn’t have to fantasize with a dirty old magazine if you wanted to fuck me. All you had to do was ask.”

You said nothing, just glared at him. Joel wore a loathsome smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“Wish I knew this is what you were usin’ to get yourself off at night. All those pretty noises, all this time. They were all for me, weren’t they?”

Any words you could think of got caught in your throat, it felt like dry swallowing a pill. You just looked at Joel with pleading eyes, begging him to stop making you feel like a fool. If you weren’t so embarrassed, you’d be yelling at him for rifling through your private belongings and calling him presumptuous asshole for insinuating you fantasized about him. Of course, he was entirely correct in his assumption. You were completely and utterly infatuated with him. Even when you weren’t using his doppelgänger to get yourself off, you were thinking of him all day long. 

 “Please,” you finally choked out, feeling tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t take any more of this torture. “Just stop.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he spoke with a soothing tone. Joel placed a hand on your thigh and twiddled his fingers along the fabric of your pajamas. “You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me what I want to hear.” Joel looked at you with his sparkling brown eyes, darkened with lust. “So what do you like about these pages, baby?”

Turning your face towards your lap, you whispered your response to his prodding question. “I like the way he’s fucking her,” If that’s all it’d take to make him stop, might as well spill your guts.

“Yeah, I do too. It’s sexy, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, glancing at the familiar image. Joel was 100% right. Those were certainly your favorite pages. You didn’t even need them anymore, the picture was tattooed on your brain. “I like how the man looks.” you admitted with bravery.

“I bet you do. Because he looks like me, right?”

You nodded your head shyly. You couldn’t believe yourself, giving up and letting Joel win. He’d never let you live this down. But maybe if you butter him up a little he’ll let you off easier. “You’re more handsome, though,”

“Oh, baby. Gonna make me blush,” Joel replied to you with a saccharine smile. He really did seem genuinely flattered by your comment. “This is really what you look at when you’re playing with your pussy?”

“Yeah, kind of,” you say, feeling some confidence fill your chest. “I pretend it’s you fucking me like that.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm,”

“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. I like knowin’ you think of me like that,” he praises you for finally letting go of your embarrassment. He doesn’t only want to tease you. If this is what you fantasized about, he was gonna make your dreams come true. 

Joel takes one of your hands in his own and moves it to your center, pressing your fingers against your core. You gasp at the feeling of your wetness on your pajama pants. “Think you can do somethin’ for me?”

“What?” you murmur.

“I want you to give me a show, baby. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re lookin’ at that magazine,” Apprehension fills your bones once again at his words. “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. I just wanna see how pretty you look when you come. And after you do that, I’ll fuck you just like how he’s doin’. What do you say?”

“Just like, touch myself?” you laugh awkwardly at his request. This cannot be happening. Right?

Joel sets the magazine down and helps you to the top of the bed. He leans you against the pillows and kisses your lips for a second, and every time his tongue mingles with your own your anxiety melts away, little by little. This is all so surprising, maybe he does really want to make you feel good.

He kisses you gently and with care, using his lips to encourage you to let go again. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, your neck, and down your body before lifting up your pants and looking at you expectedly, asking permission to remove your clothing. You nod and he helps you out of your pajamas. It’s all so sudden and you feel exposed, all naked and laid out for Joel.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel says earnestly as he takes one of your wrists and guides your hand to your needy pussy, encouraging you to show him what you look like when you’re whimpering at the thought of him in the middle of the night. You don’t touch yourself yet, though. You cover your center with your hand, slightly embarrassed by the thick tuft of hair surrounding your vulva.

“I haven’t shaved in forever,” you say sheepishly. It’s kind of silly, worrying about body hair at the end of the world. But you can’t help it.

“That’s alright, sweetheart” Joel says as he reaches for the magazine and flips to one of the first pages he saw, a woman spread eagle with her full bush on display. She’s smiling and radiates confidence. “See? It’s a beautiful thing. It’s how they’re meant to be.”

You’re skeptical. “Do you really think so?” 

“Of course I do. I love your pussy, it’s beautiful just how it is,” Joel grips your thighs and parts your legs, and your fingers gently drop to touch your dripping center. Joel reaches forward and places his hand over yours, helping you circle your clit with your middle finger. It’s slow at first and you squeeze your eyes shut, still feeling slightly awkward. Masturbating for someone else to watch is completely different from sex. You feel vulnerable, like you’re being studied under a microscope. You don’t feel that way for long, though.

Joel continues to help you circle your clit until he senses you becoming more confident, then removes his hand to watch you do your thing. Your fingers swirl around your hole as you gather your slick, then travel up again to rub your clit in those same circles he helped you create. You let out little gasps and whimpers, and it’s music to Joel’s ears. Finally, he has an image to match with the moans and other noises he hears from your room.

Usually you can get yourself off fairly quickly but with Joel in front of you, it takes a little longer. You open your eyes and peek at him. His dark and hungry eyes are focused on your center, but they flick up to your own. He smirks devilishly at you for a half second then goes back to watching your actions, almost obsessively. He is obsessed.

The sight of him pushes you closer to the edge, and he watches your pussy twitch as you finger your clit even faster. His expression changes then. He’s no longer looking at you with adoration and lust. Joel looks angry and jealous, with a furrowed brow and a scowling frown. You tilt your head slightly in confusion but before you can think Joel lunges forward and rips your hand away from your cunt, pinning it next to your torso. 

“Let me taste you?” he whispers. You nod hurriedly in response. Lick me, touch me, do anything.

He presses a kiss to your clit and you gasp in surprise. “This is my pussy now,” he growls. Now that he knows what you look like touching yourself for him, he can’t just sit there and watch you anymore. Joel’s desperate, he needs to make you come. “From now on, you’re only gonna come when I say so. Do you understand?”

You mumble incoherently and Joel swats your thigh, not satisfied with your answer. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his voice dark and serious.

“Yes, Joel,”

“Good girl. You just relax now, let me take care of you,” he instructs you. Your head falls to the pillow, and you let out a soft exhale as Joel wraps his strong arms around your thighs and pulls your pussy to his face. Joel inhales your scent deeply, enjoying your aroma. 

He licks a long stripe from your slick hole all the way to your clit, flattening his tongue against you. He licks every inch of you, memorizing your folds with his deft tongue. When he’s satisfied with the way he’s worked you up, he focuses on your clit, flicking it with his tongue before inserting two fingers inside of you. 

“Joel,” you gasp out, hands reaching for his salt and pepper curls. Your thighs clamp around his head and he removes his hands from your body to spread them out again. 

“You stay open for me now,” he commands. He plunges his fingers back inside you and curls them upward, hitting that spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes see stars. You moan loudly when Joel’s lips attach to your clit once more, this time gently sucking on the sensitive bud. He’s drunk on your taste, completely addicted to your flavor. His tongue continues dancing on your center and you pull him close to you, rutting your hips into his face. Every once in awhile you swipe his nose and he uses the opportunity to dip and twirl his tongue inside of you. 

This is the best way to eat pussy, Joel’s learned. Find out what makes her tick and keep doing that, let her grind on his lips and nose. Right now, your wish is his command.

You reach down and grab his not working arm to bring it towards your breasts. Joel picks up what you’re putting down immediately and trails his hand over your breasts, pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. That’s all it takes to have you coming in his mouth. 

You cry out his name as you buck your hips into him, fighting the urge to push him away when the feeling becomes too intense. 

Joel doesn’t allow you to catch your breath. He flips you on your tummy and drags you down the bed, his fingernails pressing into your skin. “You did so good for me, baby. You gonna let me fuck you now? Just like you pretend, right?” He pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his pajama pants behind you.

“Yes, Joel, please,” you whine.

“I like hearin’ that. Keep beggin’ for me,” Joel demands as nudges your thighs apart with his knee. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, painting his precum on your skin. He pushes the tip inside, not yet dipping all the way inside you.

“I need you,” you sob with desperation. 

“Need me to what?” He knows what you need, but Joel’s gonna make you spell it out to him.

You let out a groan of frustration and back your ass into his hips. Joel chuckles at your annoyance. “Come on now. Tell me what I want to hear,” he repeats his words from earlier. “Put that pretty mouth to use.”

“I need you to fuck me,” 

“There you go. Was that so hard?”

Joel wraps his hands around your hips, his fingers digging into your lower stomach and his thumbs pressed firmly into your lower back and slams his hips into you. His fingernails leave dents in your skin.

You yelp at the sudden contact, not expecting him to go so hard and fast. His thick cock stretches you out and you can feel the tip hitting you deep inside. 

“Always knew this pussy would feel good,” he mumbled behind you, beginning his firm pace. 

You arch your back into him, using your body to tell him what you need. You love the way he feels, so strong and holding you so tight. It really is a fantasy come to life. “Don’t stop, please,” you cry for him.

“Mmmm,” he hums. “You love this cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Joel,”

“That’s right. It’s all for you, baby,” he continues pounding into you.

Joel stops for a second and flips you over on your back. He apologizes, “Sorry, sweetheart. I know I said I’d fuck you like them in the magazine but fuck, I gotta see you,” he says. “Can’t let you hide those tits from me anymore.”

Joel pulls your legs up and places them over his shoulders, opening you up even deeper for him. He lets out a moan at the change in position.

He admires the way you look, all of it just for him. Your half lidded eyes, mouth open and spilling out moans and obscenities with every snap of his hips. You’re completely fucked out.

You reach down to thumb your clit and he smacks your hand away. “What’d I say earlier? You come when I say. I didn’t say, did I?” he scolded you.

“N-no,” you stutter out. 

Joel takes your wrists into his hand and pins them above your head. “Can’t trust you, sweetheart. Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me,” He snakes his other hand between your thighs and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb ever so lightly. Torturing you with what could be and never giving you more. 

The wet squelching noises of your pussy and the slapping sound of skin hitting skin have your head spinning. Joel fucks you at a merciless pace, frenzied and desperate. He’s savoring the way you’re squirming under him, straining your wrists against his locked grip. He knows it’s agonizing, almost painful the way you’re aching for release. But he’s determined to teach you a lesson. 

“Please,” you choke out. “Just make me come,”

“I don’t know that you deserve it, baby, Touchin’ yourself to that picture of my lookalike? That’s awful selfish of you,” he chided you. “Depriving me of this?”

“Joel,” you whined. You’d do whatever it took to get some release.

“Tell me how long you were needing me,” Joel panted. “Weeks? Months?”

“I don’t know. Forever,” you admitted. “I need to come now, please.”

“Forever? I wish you said somethin’ earlier, baby. You wouldn’t be in this mess,”

You didn’t know how much more you could take. Tears of frustration were streaming down your cheeks, each of his thrusts hitting deep and massaging your insides. You were right there, you just needed permission to let go.

Joel was right there with you, also struggling to hold on. He wanted nothing more than to keep fucking you without allowing you to finish, but he’d never seen something so erotic and sexy. Your body, tangled in his own, your twitching thighs and furrowed brow. And he was responsible for all of it, responsible for turning into this wreck. 

“You’re takin’ me so good, sweet girl. Beggin’ and askin’ me so nice,” he whispered. “You do one last thing for me, and I’ll let you come.”

“Anything,” you gasp. Now his wish is your command. 

“You focus right here. Look at me, and don’t close your eyes. Keep makin’ those pretty noises for me, just like you always do,” You’re not even consciously trying to follow his orders, you just do. You can’t break your stare from his dark and hungry gaze, his lip curled in a nefarious smirk. Breathy moans and high pitched squeals escape your mouth. 

“Always knew you’d be my good girl. Alright now. Let go for me,”

That’s all you needed to reach your peak. The warm, coiling feeling in the pit of your stomach erupts, shooting electricity through your veins. Your vision goes blurry and you hear staticky ringing as you cry out for Joel. It’s all you can feel as wave after wave of pleasure rocks your body. 

Joel’s thrusts are sloppy now as he chases his own orgasm. Your fluttering walls and the way you whisper his name like a prayer are all he needed to reach his peak. His hips are stuttering and his muscles jerk and tremble as he pulses inside you, painting your insides with his seed. Joel hovers above you, placing wet kisses and tonguing your salty skin. He’s addicted to the way you taste. 

It only hits you now how surreal this entire evening is. Joel’s above you, collecting himself and catching his breath and you’re still pinned beneath him. Of course, you imagined fucking him many times prior to this but it was never this way. You couldn’t complain, though. 

Joel interrupts your thoughts with a kiss, sweet and gentle and loving. A stark contrast to the way he fucked your body just moments before. “So apple pudgy pies, right?”

You giggle. Joel is such a typical man, wanting a snack right after sex. At least he’s not already passed out on top of you, the way other men often do. “Yes Joel, just like you asked for,”

Joel backs away from you then with a cute little fist pump, as if he’s winning a prize. “Fuck yeah,” he whispers, walking to the bathroom completely nude. He’s got such a nice and plump ass, you notice. 

He comes back and wipes you off with affectionate care, being extra conscious not to irritate your sensitive skin after the rigorous fucking. He helps you into your pajamas then and kisses you on the top of the head. “I’m gonna get the fire goin’, meet me out there?” 

“Sure, Joel,” you respond with a smile. “I have to finish up with the apples first, though.”

“Take your time. I’ll be out there,”

You sit up and kiss Joel one last time, the way his lips slide against yours gives you butterflies. It’s a little late to feel that way after what you just did. You go to the bathroom then go downstairs and finish prepping the apples, stirring them over the stove. Once they’re finished, you prepare the sandwiches and make your way outside to sit next to Joel.

The warm glow of the fire illuminates his skin and he looks so handsome, his features look so defined by the light and shadows. He helps you put the sandwiches in the pie irons and then places them on the grill above the fire, careful to make sure they’re not getting too much heat too quickly. 

The fire begins to shrink, flames not reaching quite as high as the sandwiches need. You turn your head around you looking for some more firewood, but the sound of ripping paper interrupts your search. 

It’s Joel, tearing out pages of a magazine. Your magazine, from before. You look at him with confusion. 

“I told you, sweetheart. You won’t be needin’ this anymore. You come to me,” he explains with a low voice, flipping the cast iron pans. “I took good care of you, right?”

You smile shyly. “You did,”

“And I intend to keep takin’ care of your needs,” he promises. 

You nod wordlessly, still smiling. A few more moments pass before Joel removes the irons from the fire and removes your pies to cool off, then slices them in half. They’re golden brown and the spicy, sweet, warm smell is sinfully delicious. The gooey apples spill from the bread slightly. Your tummy grumbles at the sight. 

The dessert has cooled enough, you decide. Taking a half of one of the sandwiches in your hand, you bring it to your mouth and take a small bite, the cooked apples are like lava in your mouth. You hiss at the burn on your tongue and lips. 

Joel looks at you with disapproving concern. “Tsk,” he mumbles with displeasure. “You’re terribly impatient, aren’t you?” his tone from the bedroom is back. Reaching forward to take your chin between your fingers, he swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, collecting some of the apple filling. Your eyes widen, you’re startled by his touch. 

“I’ll fix you, though. Teach you some self control,” he sucks his digit into his mouth and pulls it out with a pop, humming at the sweet flavor. “Lord knows you need it.”

 All you can think about is sucking his cock the same way he sucked his thumb. You wonder how the soft skin of his dick would feel on your tongue. How he would taste, how he’d look as you take him deep down your throat. 

God, how you need it.

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[smileysuh]

Blood Moon

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You know,” Cheol’s lips are feverish against your skin, and he kisses from your collarbone to your breasts, his hot breath driving you wild, “in some cultures, the blood moon is a sign that the moon needs to be worshiped.” His hand moves between your legs, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties while he lets out another groan of need. “Werewolves worship the moon,” he continues. “It’s what makes us who we are, but after I met you…” his other hand tears the front of your dress down, and his teeth graze by your nipple, “let’s just say, you’re all that matters to me now. And I’m going to worship you as if you were the moon.”

tw/cw. blood/claim biting, a/b/o, alpha cheol, big dick cheol, pussy worship, pussy eating, unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, exhibitionism, sex where his pack can hear it, praise, multiple positions, breeding kink, size kink, overstim, slight dacryphilia, sex on a car & the ground & under the blood moon, wet pussy kink, knotting, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) alpha.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5k

🍭 aus.a/b/o, alpha!Cheol, omega!reader, jealousy, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. when I tell you I need this man to ruin me

Seungcheol’s never been the type of alpha to question his subordinates, but on blood moons, his control goes out the window. When he’d announced during the formation of his pack that he’d be taking on two lesser alphas, and their preexisting betas, some elder wolves had called him crazy. They’d said it was just a matter of time till Jihoon or Soonyoung made an act to overthrow him, but in the eight years since then, Seungcheol’s never truly had any cause to suspect insurrection of any sort.

However this year, things are different. This year, he’s made another risky move that’s been questioned by wolves in and outside of his own pack. 

This year, he’d fallen for a human, someone outside any of the strong wolf bloodlines, and he’d taken you as his own. His bite had transformed you into the beta you are now, and he can tell, as you approach him with eyes following your every move, that some of his pack members are still not very happy about it.

Soonyoung, in particular, makes no move to hide his gaze. He looks you up and down, and Seungcheol can even see a flash of his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a hungry spark in his eyes. 

“You look upset,” you note, finally making it to your alpha’s side by the bonfire, its flames licking the night sky and casting pretty shadows across your features.

“Is it that obvious?” Seungcheol groans, wrapping an arm around your body while he adjusts the red solo cup in his hand. 

“You always wear your heart on your sleeve, Cheol,” you muse, leaning closer to him. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

The alpha lets out a sigh, giving one last warning look to Soonyoung before his gaze dips to focus on you. “Can I tell you something about blood moons?”

“Please,” you nod. “I'd love to hear more, especially from you.”

He’s always enjoyed how eager you are to learn about the ways of the wolves, it’s one of the things that had drawn him to you, and he loves teaching you his culture even more.

“Ancient peoples believed the blood moon was a sort of omen, something that predicted the death or overthrow of a king.”

“I see,” you smile, leaning up to press your lips to the underside of his jaw. “You’re worried someone might have a stupid idea tonight about taking you on as alpha.”

“Others thought that blood moons were a time to explore your dark side. To dive deeper into hidden emotions like rage,” he explains further. “I think we both know that some members of my pack are still harbouring a grudge against me for my actions this year.”

“They’ll get over it,” you assure him. “And if they don’t, what’s anyone going to do about it? No one here can best you, they’d be stupid to try.”

Seungcheol knows that. Aside from being a force to be reckoned with all by himself, Seungcheol’s inner circle includes Mingyu, one of the biggest wolves he’s ever seen. Even if Soonyoung was to pick a fight with Seungcheol, backed up by Minghao, Dino and Jun, they’d never be able to overtake both him and Mingyu. 

Regardless of these facts, your calming words do nothing on his restless mind. Blood moons have always been a time of heightened emotional energy, especially for the wolves so connected to the lunar force. 

Instead of saying anything else, Cheol simply pulls you closer, hoping that your presence in his arms is enough to stop him from doing anything rash.

When you realize Seungcheol’s cup is empty, you break away from his side, giving the alpha a kiss that lingers before you head off to get more liquor. You’ve been feeling how tense your mate is all night, and you hope that another drink might soothe what you’re unable to.

As you walk up the beach, you notice the sound of someone following you. While you’re still getting used to heightened wolf senses, you’re conscious enough to note that the footfalls are lighter than your lumbering alphas, and you don’t dare look behind you to check who your new shadow is. 

You’re safe enough on this beach with the pack around you, and despite Seungcheol’s obvious agitation and paranoia, you’d meant it when you’d told him people would be stupid to try anything tonight.

When you reach the camping table housing all the booze, you move calmly, reaching for the aged bottle of bourbon that Seungcheol loves. Your shadow takes the opportunity to make himself known, stepping next to you and reaching for his own can of beer. 

“You look good tonight,” Soonyoung says, opening his drink and turning to look at you.

“Thank you,” you smile, trying to be respectful to the alpha. “I know it’s a blood moon, but it still felt fitting to wear white, besides, Seungcheol loves this dress.”

“I can see why.” Soonyoung’s eyes move down and then back up, focusing on your breasts for a few seconds while you continue to prepare your mate’s bourbon. “You know, when we heard Cheol had found himself a human to dote on, lots of us wondered why he didn’t just go for some juicy omega. But, seeing you tonight, I can see you might be even tastier than the other girls that used to fawn over him.”

You take a breath, screwing the lid back onto the bottle of bourbon before setting it down and turning to look at Soonyoung. You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, but you won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Do you have something else to say to me, Soonyoung?” 

“Just that…” he licks his lips, leaning closer to you. “I know you don’t come from our world, so it’s not like you had your pick of alphas, and I just figured, maybe there might be a better match for you than him.”

“A better match,” you repeat his words. “Like you?”

Soonyoung shrugs, flashing a grin. “You’d never know till you give me a chance to prove myself.”

“All things considered, I think you’re pretty lucky I was born human.”

“Really?” His grin widens. “And why’s that, gorgeous?”

“Because if I was an omega, I’d run off and tell Cheol about this and he’d kill you tonight.” 

The smirk drops from Soonyoung’s face, and he stares you down. “Cheol wouldn’t choose you over me.”

You sigh. “If you’re willing to bet your life on that, I can always go ask him right now.” Soonyoung stays quiet and you nod. “That’s what I thought. I’d say it’s been nice talking with you, but we both know that would be a lie. Have a good night, Soonyoung.”

You pick up your drink and walk away. 

This time, the alpha doesn’t follow.

No matter how safe you feel amongst the pack, it’s still something of a relief when you make it to Seungcheol’s side again. 

He looks at you with concern, taking the cup from your hands so he can wrap a protective arm around your body, pulling you tight to his chest. “You were gone a while,” he notes. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s a small white lie, but you truly believe Seungcheol would tear Soonyoung in two if you tell him what just took place, so you avoid disclosure. What Seungcheol doesn’t know can’t hurt him… or Soonyoung. “I was just thinking…” you continue, tracing a finger up the front of your mate’s black v-neck, “I know I’m not generally someone who’s too fond of public displays of aggression and ownership, but… if there was ever a night to prove I belong to you, it would be tonight.”

Seungcheol blinks at you, swallowing thickly while he considers your proposition. His gaze dips to where your breasts are pressed against his chest, and you can feel his cock beginning to harden where it’s trapped in his pants between your bodies. “So you want me to take you right here?” he asks. “On the beach? In front of everyone?”

“Cheol,” you laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “that’s a bit much. I was thinking… we could go to the parking lot where your car is. It’s close enough that people will be able to hear, but far enough that I’d still be comfortable. After all, if I’m yours and only yours, my body should be for your eyes only.”

“I’m not sure where this came from,” Seungcheol admits. “But you know I could never say no to you. Let’s get out of here, princess, because if we don’t, I am going to fuck you on this beach where everyone can see.”

You tug out of his embrace, flashing him a mischievous smile. “Okay alpha, then you better chase me.”

You turn on your heel in the sand, bolting towards the grassy parking lot while other members of his pack watch you. It feels like freedom to be running through the cool night air under the blood moon, and you can hear your alpha’s footfalls as he chases you.

He could catch you in a second, you both know that, but he’s purposefully moving slower than you, letting you be exhilarated by the idea of a chase. You know it turns him on as much as you, and you giggle to yourself at the naughtiness of it all.

Cheol has always brought out your wild side, even when you were human, and now, you get to revel in the primal attraction, the push and pull with the alpha that’s shown you the world, and now, the blood moon. 

You marvel at the new strength of your body, the way you can make it to the parking lot, which is a couple hundred meters down the beach, without even being very winded. 

The moment you reach the vehicle, Seungcheol’s hot body is pressing against your back, boxing you against his large, black truck with both hands on either side of you. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he groans, rubbing his cock against your ass.

“I could say the same about you,” you gasp, turning so you can face him. “My big sexy alpha-”

He’s kissing you the moment the words leave you, and you tangle your hands through his dark hair tugging him closer while his mouth works against your own. He tastes like bourbon, and something about it turns you on even more. Your mate’s teeth drag across your lower lip and you let out a groan, lifting your thigh to wrap around his waist.

“Cheol,” you whimper, taking a breather as he moves his mouth to your neck, finding your sweet spot and making you moan again. “I need you-”

With a growl, the alpha picks you up, fingers digging into your ass as he moves around to the back of his truck. You begin to kiss his throat as he gets the front panel open, and then he hoists you up to rest you on it.

His hands find your thighs, pushing your white dress up and grabbing at your flesh. 

“Just fuck me-” you plead, knowing your panties are already soaked. Cheol just does things to you, and you wish he’d do more. 

“You know,” Cheol’s lips are feverish against your skin, and he kisses from your collar bone to your breasts, his hot breath driving you wild, “in some cultures, the blood moon is a sign that the moon needs to be worshiped.” 

His hand moves between your legs, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties while he lets out another groan of need.

 “Werewolves worship the moon,” he continues. “It’s what makes us who we are, but after I met you…” his other hand tears the front of your dress down, and his teeth graze by your nipple, “let’s just say, you’re all that matters to me now. And I’m going to worship you as if you were the moon.”

“Fuck, alpha-” you whimper, throwing your head back while he begins to suck on your nipple, applying more pressure to your clit with the hands you adore so much. 

“That’s right,” Cheol growls, “I’m your alpha. Your only alpha. And I’m going to take care of you, like you deserve.”

“Please, I need it-”

“You need it?” His hair brushes by your chest, and then he pulls back just enough to look up at you, pushing your panties to the side so two of his large fingers can slip into your soaked core. “Tell me what you need, princess, alpha will give it to you.”

“You know what I need,” you whine.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

You let out a sound of frustration, tangling your hands in Seungcheol’s hair. Then you push his head down, and your mate begins to laugh at you, his fingers picking up speed as they work to open your core. 

“I said use your words,” he tuts, “not push me around.”

“I need you to worship me,” you tell him, “the way only you can.”

“That’s more like it,” he hums, satisfied as his hot kisses begin to move down your body. 

He pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine loudly at the loss, but he needs his hands to push your dress up. He uses his teeth to tear your panties down, and you whimper at the feeling of him, watching him while unmatched lust burns through you.

“I’m going to keep these for myself,” he says, pocketing your panties before he spreads your legs, forcing you to fall backward against the bed of his truck, your elbows cushioning your fall and propping you up. 

“Alpha,” you moan, a shiver running through you when he begins to kiss your thigh, working closer and closer to where you need him most. 

“Fuck,” he groans, placing a kiss on your pussy that has you squealing with delight. “I love the sounds you make.” Your mate looks up at you with dark, dilated pupils. “You really do want everyone to hear this, don’t you, princess?” 

The thought excites you more than it ever has before, and Seungcheol grins while watching you. “That’s what I thought. Who’s my dirty girl?”

“I am,” you gasp when his thumb comes up to play with your clit.

“You’re dripping, princess,” Cheol notes. “Just the way I like it.” 

He’s forcing his head between your thighs a moment later, tongue lapping the length of your pussy and making you cry out into the night air. Your hands fly down to grab onto his hair, and your alpha growls, the vibration running through your clit and causing you to pant while his tongue invades your wet hole.

“Oh my god-” you whimper, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get more-

His palm lands on your lower abdomen and he forces you down. It’s crazy how much strength he has in just one hand, and you find yourself completely pinned to the bed of his truck while he eats you out like he’s a starving man.

The sounds coming from between your legs are absolutely lewd, not only can you hear your soaked pussy and his wet tongue, but he’s moaning loudly, thoroughly enjoying working you up the way only he knows how. 

“Alpha,” you whimper desperately, already aching from how close you are. 

Cheol lets out another groan, the vibrations making your legs twitch as you teeter on the edge of pleasure. “I’m gonna cum-” you gasp, tightening your grip on his hair so he can’t pull away. 

But Seungcheol has no intention of pulling away. In fact, he presses his face even deeper into your pussy, lapping at you and licking- then his lips suction around your clit and you’re a complete gonner.

A scream leaves your mouth, your eyes clenching shut as your orgasm overtakes you. 

Seungcheol has given you great orgasms before, mind altering, earth shattering orgasms- but nothing has ever been like this. Your brain goes completely blank as the feeling of absolute ecstasy overwhelms your body, bringing tears to your eyes while he continues to worship your core with an expert tongue.

“Alpha,” you whimper, overstimulated by his mouth alone.

Cheol finally lets up, pulling away from your pussy and taking a deep breath. You can feel him exhale against you, and it causes you to twitch from stimulation. You go to close your legs while Seungcheol straightens and looks down at you, but his hands are quick to pry them open.

“You think I’m done with you?” he laughs. “Nice try princess, but I’m not anywhere near being done yet.”

His thumb finds your clit again and your whole body jolts at the contact, your thighs threatening to close-

Seungcheol pushes them open again, letting out a growl. “You better keep these legs wide for me, princess, and take what your alpha is giving you.”

You mewl in response, whimpering when two of his digits enter your core again. “I had you on my tongue, and now I’m going to give you my fingers before I split you open with my cock. How does that sound?”

“Like heaven,” you whisper, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his large fingers moving in and out of you slowly.

“That’s my girl,” Seungcheol grins, eyes focusing between your legs. “You have no fucking clue how sexy you are.”

You groan at the praise. You’ve always loved how Seungcheol takes his time with you, verbalizing his attraction and always making you feel like the only girl in the entire universe. 

When you’d been a part of the human world, you’d heard stories about alpha wolves with harems of girls, omegas, that are even shared amongst packs. Cheol had changed your entire perception of his kind, and he’d even talked you into joining him, although… it hadn’t taken much persuasion on his part.

“Look at you, clenching on my fingers when I talk nice,” Cheol lets out a laugh. “You really are my little praise princess, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, alpha,” you nod, moaning as his fingers pick up their pace inside of you.

“I want to watch you cum again,” he tells you. “I love watching you lose control.”

“Then make me cum,” you whisper. “Make me scream.”

Seungcheol grins. “You’ve got it, princess.”

He strokes his fingers up, finding the spot inside of you that always makes your toes curl. His other hand finds your lower abdomen, pinning you down, and you know exactly what he’s going to do next.

Your alpha mate has always had a thing for making your pussy soaked, and he’s an expert at getting you there with his fingers. No man has ever made you squirt like Seungcheol has, and no man ever will again.

“Alpha,” you whimper as his digits begin to apply more pressure to your g-spot, and you grab at the strong forearm of the hand pinned to your abdomen, needing an anchor, any anchor, so you don’t simply fly away off the bed of his truck to float through cloud nine.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol groans. “Listen to how wet your pretty pussy is.”

You love how you can hear yourself, love how you can already feel wetness between your legs as Seungcheol’s fingers work their magic. You’re a moaning mess now, and when your mate commands, “rub your clit for me,” you can hardly refuse.

Your shaky digits find your most sensitive spot, and now you can feel even more fluid gushing out of you as pleasure erupts through your form.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” Seungcheol praises you. “You’re always so fucking good for me.”

Squirting isn’t like regular orgasms, it’s a slow pressure in the pit of your stomach that builds as his fingers continue roughly inside of you, until you’re twitching and gasping and crying out. You can’t carry on with your clit, all you can do is grab at Cheol’s forearm again, taking what he gives you until he’s satisfied. 

“Look at you fucking cum,” Seungcheol groans, watching you writhe on the bed of his truck while you gush around his fingers. 

You’re crying again, and you can feel wet hot tears rolling down your cheeks, but you’d never tell him to stop. Not when you know you’ll be rewarded as soon as he’s had enough, as soon as he loses his own control and has to fuck you. 

“Shit, princess,” Seungcheol growls, pulling his digits out of your core. “My turn.”

He grabs you with both hands, and you can feel your wetness on your skin from the fingers that had just been inside of you. In one rough motion, he pulls you off the bed of the truck, and a small scream or surprise escapes you.

Your legs feel like jelly, but your mate is quick to turn you around, forcing your upper body to lay over the front panel and bed of his truck. You hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it with expert fingers, and then he lifts up your dress. In one solid motion, he slides his whole cock into you, taking your breath away as you gasp and claw your hands against the cool metal truck frame.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Seungcheol groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds still for a moment, letting you feel his massive cock stretching you out. “So wet and perfect.”

At this point, you can hardly think, let alone respond with words. The most you can do is moan loudly, pushing your ass back in an attempt to get him deeper-

“That’s right, princess,” the alpha laughs. “You’re so desperate to be fucked, aren’t you?”

“Yes, alpha-” 

“Then I guess I better deliver.” He pulls almost all the way out of you before slamming back in, his hips making an audible slap against your ass while your whine of pleasure rings through the night.

“Alpha?” you whimper, a dirty, sinful, wonderful thought popping into your mind.

“Yes, princess?” He ruts into you harder, finding a brutal pace that has the entire truck rocking with each powerful thrust.

“Do you-” you choke back a moan, “Do you think… if you bred me during a blood moon… do you think it would make our pups strong alphas like you?”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans loudly, fingers digging harder against your hips as his motions get even wilder. “You want me to breed you, princess?”

“God, yes!” you cry, pussy fluttering at the mere idea of it.

Your mate lets out a growl, fucking you so hard and deep you can feel him everywhere. He’s all consuming. You’ve practically forgotten that he’s fucking you on a car with his pack so closeby- all that matters is him right now, and what he can give you. 

“Want me to fill you up until you’re practically bursting with my cum?”

“Yes, alpha-” you moan desperately, closing your eyes as you press your cheek against the cool metal truck bed. 

“Want me to knot you? Spread you open so you’re ruined for anyone else?” 

You’re already ruined for anyone else, and you both know it. Although you’ve been with Seungcheol for five months, you’ve never helped him through a rut, as having babies has never been something either of you particularly wanted-

But now? Now you want him, you want his knot. You want it so desperately you feel the need from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes.

“God, yes, please- make me yours forever,” you cry. “I’m yours alpha, forever yours-”

“Fuck, princess,” Seungcheol groans. “I need to see you.” 

He pulls his cock from your aching core and you whine at the loss, only for him to grab you and throw you on the grassy ground next to the truck. He’s never been this rough before, and you’re slightly winded, but then he’s on top of you, sliding back into your core while his lips find yours. 

You moan into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders and your legs around his hips, anchoring him to you while he fucks you into the ground. 

You don’t care about the grass, or even the bits of sand you feel against your back. You’re so completely focused on Cheol-

“I’m going to mark you again,” Seungcheol tells you, voice low as his lips move to your neck. 

The first time he’d bitten you, claimed you as his own, and turned you into a wolf like him, it had been a euphoric sensation, and your toes curl in anticipation. He’d marked you on your left side, but tonight, he goes for the right, and you realize he’s intent on there being no mistake who you belong to. That you’re taken. 

“Fuck, you want me to bite you, don’t you, princess?” He groans, breath hot against your skin. “You’re squeezing me like a fucking vice-”

“Alpha, please-” you whimper, needing him more than you’ve ever needed anything in your entire life. 

You don’t have to beg again, because you feel his sharp teeth grazing your throat a moment later. You hold tightly onto his broad shoulders, bracing yourself for the pleasured pain that shoots through you as he digs his fangs into your flesh.

“Alpha-” you cry desperately, digging your fingers into his shoulders as he bites deeper, ensuring a scar that will last a lifetime.

You can feel the base of his cock swelling inside of you, and the feeling is foreign, wonderful. It’s a new kind of stretch, and it leaves you gasping, opening your eyes to look up at the blood moon. 

This is right. You know that. 

“Alpha, I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, holding him tightly as your orgasm builds and builds, spurred on by the teeth still digging into your skin. It’s a perfect kind of pain, a pain only he can provide, and it leaves you breathless as you tip over the edge.

Your aching core clamps down on Seungcheol’s length, and you cry out at the feeling of his knot now fully grown inside of you-

Your mate lets out a growl, and a moment later you feel his cum coating your insides, filling you up like you’ve never been filled before. He can hardly thrust anymore, his knot too big to move inside of you, but you don’t mind. You think if he fucks you any longer, you might truly pass out from the pleasure. 

Seungcheol releases your throat, pulling back to look down at you. You can see your blood on his mouth. When you’d been human, blood had been something scary, something dirty, but now that you’re a wolf, it’s inviting, and you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to your own. 

He groans, tongue dancing across yours while the metallic taste of your own blood washes over you. 

With him buried balls deep in your pussy in the grass next to his truck with his pack nearby, his knot keeping him locked inside of you, and the taste of your own blood on his tongue- you think this might be the dirtiest, most sinful thing the two of you have ever done, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

There’s no shame, only acceptance, and an understanding in the back of your mind that you’ve reached your most primal peak. That this is how things are meant to be for wolves, and you are now truly a part of that.

You feel certain that after tonight, no one will ever question you as his mate again, and the thought fills you with an indescribable warmth. 

“Cheol,” you whisper, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. “I love you, so, so much.”

Your mate laughs softly, pushing some hair out of your face while he looks down at you. “I love you too, princess. More than you can even imagine.”

The two of you catch your breath, holding each other close like the young lovers you are, and you slowly feel the knot inside of you begin to die down. 

When Cheol is finally able to pull out of you, he sits up on his knees, tucking his cock back into his jeans before running a hand through his hair.

He’s silhouetted against the night sky and the moon, and you think it’s possible he’s never been sexier.

“As much as I want to keep these panties,” he says, pulling them out of his pocket, “I also want to make sure my cum stays in you longer. You don’t mind if I put these back on you, do you, princess?”

You shake your head, smiling at him as he gently lifts your foot, then the other, pressing a kiss to your calf as he slides your panties back on.

“I bit you pretty bad,” your mate confesses. “Let me get you up, get you seated on my truck, and I’ll grab the first aid kid to bandage your neck.”

There’s not one word of protest from you, and you marvel at how easy it is for him to lift you off the ground, setting you on the front panel. 

“Wait here,” he says softly, giving you one last chaste kiss before he heads to fumble in the front cabin. He comes back a minute later holding a red first aid kit, and you watch him in a daze as he gets out the gauze and bandages. 

“You might be a beta,” Seungcheol tells you, as he begins to gently wrap your neck, “but you have the sex drive of an omega, don’t you, princess?”

“Only for you, alpha.” You flash him a dopey smile, completely brain-dead after the best sex of your life. “Only for you.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Alpha cheol has me in an entire brain rot- I'll never be the same after him - Mingyu now has a part in this series too, read more about the Blood Moon pack here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol releases your hip, and he reaches down to grab your torso, wrapping one hand around your breast as he hauls you to your knees, your back now pressed firmly to his chest. “Look around,” he says in your ear, and you force your lids open to gaze out at the dark treeline. You notice multiple eyes staring back at you, lit by the reflection of the moon. You can’t see which members of the pack are watching, can’t make out any faces, but your pussy throbs knowing they’re all focused on you. Seungcheol’s free hand slips down to rub at your clit, and you whimper, wiggling in his grasp. He holds you tighter against his strong torso, licking your throat. “I can’t believe how much this turns you on. Filthy little princess.” 

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, fucking outside in a field, voyeurism, his pack watching you get fucked, blow job, deep throating, hand job, unprotected sex, dirty talk, overstim, multiple positions/orgasms, praise, semi public nudity, possessive cheol, size kink, big dick cheol, breast worship, sex marks, choking/neck grabbing, rough sex, primal doggy style, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (his) alpha.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!reader

bonus

Seungcheol wakes up as the sunlight begins to creep through the blinds and illuminate your room. He lets out a groan, instinctively reaching out to grab you, pulling you tight to his body. 

“Morning, alpha,” you whisper, fingers threading through his hair and massaging his scalp.

He’d woken up with a stiffie, and the feeling of your hands has him releasing a moan of pleasure, his cock throbbing in the confines of his breifs. 

He takes a deep breath, wanting to be engulfed by you, by your scent-

And that’s when he notices a sweeter note to your usual smell. 

His eyes open, and he blinks at you, the fogginess of sleep slowly dissipating as he gets his bearings. 

“What?” you question, having picked up on the shift in his energy. “Is something wrong?”

“You just-” he swallows thickly, “you smell so good.” 

“Really?”

“More than normal,” he confirms, sitting up suddenly to look at you. His eyes take in your body, and he moves the covers to get a better view of your form. His fingers reach out to trace your skin, smoothing over your collarbone and down to your breasts. When he reaches your belly button, he circles it, and you let out a giggle. 

Seungcheol can’t help but smile, gaze flashing to meet yours. He has his suspicions about why your scent may have changed, he’s heard stories about this, but he’s never experienced it for himself-

“I think the blood moon blessed us, princess.”

“Hmm?” Your brows furrow in confusion, and you reach down to guide his hand lower-

His fingers find your core through your panties, and he lets out a groan at how wet you already are. As he moves lower, shimmying down the bed to get between your thighs, the smell grows, confirming his suspicions. 

“You’re pregnant,” he says softly. “I can smell it on you.”

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[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura

Summary: This was supposed to be a Rhysand x Reader Calanmai One Shot and boy oh boy did it spiral into a whole, multi chapter AU fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ It’s now a what if Rhys’s mate was someone other than Feyre and they both end up Under the Mountain together fic

Content Warnings: Eventual Smut, Some Suggestiveness because Rhys is here, I mean look at him everyone wants that male; canon typical violence, UTM. Each chapter will have listed content warnings.

Part Two is here

————————————————————————-

“Stay inside, away from the windows. Make sure the doors are locked.” It’s the same speech every year, the same frantic, worried rant about staying away from those types of parties and the trouble they could bring. Never mind that you’re an adult, have been for awhile, and are perfectly capable of making the decision on your own and had decided years ago that Calanmai wasn’t really your scene. A party in a library sure, but an outdoor orgy in what was basically the High Lord of Spring’s backyard was about as opposite of you as you could get.

“I’ll be in the attic, organizing my books,” you swear and your uncle’s graying head bobs with a heavy sigh of relief as he shuts the door. Some of the livestock have gone missing--most likely the result of several visiting fae whose scene definitely is Calanmai--but he couldn’t make complaints to the High Lord until he was sure they hadn’t simply wandered out of the padlock on their own. He’s taking all three of the farmhands with him, leaving you alone in the house.

It would be a blissful couple of days. The house quiet. You plan to make tea and practice the new bread recipe you’d found tucked into one of your carefully preserved books from two centuries before. You’ve accumulated quite a collection of things in the years of your uncle’s ceaseless wandering. He’s never stayed anywhere long.

If you could focus on it, that is.

Calanmai might have never been your scene, but it did something to you every year you couldn’t explain. It had started a couple years ago; a strange whispering on the wind at first, a voice begging you to “Come. Come and see.”  The next year, after being ignored the voice had come with phantom drum beats, an echo of the ones that would sometimes crest the hill between your farmhouse and the High Lord’s estate; the voice more urgent, the drum beats like a pulse in your skull. The following year the visions started. You’d go to sleep and find yourself drifting through the air, wings beating above you, shadowy hands holding you as you flew over the bonfires and beating drums, bodies writhing and merging beneath you, before depositing you in the darkness of what you could only describe as some sort of ancient cave. When you’d woken up you found yourself half way up the hill in your sleep clothes, unsure of how you’d even gotten out of the house. You’d never mentioned it to your uncle, he was prone to worry, but it was becoming clearer and clearer every year that there was something out there that wanted you out on Calanmai. True to form, you’d started hearing the drum beats upon waking this morning, their beat a steady pulse in your temples.

Still, whatever beckons, you're not interested in meeting. You’d seen a couple priestesses and gotten a sleeping tonic that would knock you out for the night, all you needed to do was pass the time until nightfall, take the tonic, and in the morning, all would be right again. Never mind the ache in your chest you’d feel in the morning, the blaring loss a living thing in your soul, as if your decision to stay away had torn something apart in you. It was a manageable wound, for your family’s sake. Memories of your parents had been hazy at best, it had always just been you and your mother’s brother. He’d said something had happened in your home court, that he’d had no other choice but to take you and run, never any other details. Your powers were a strange, unmanageable thing that prowled beneath your skin, a restless beast you couldn’t tie to any court to try and figure out where you’d come from. They weren’t seasonal, not ice or flame or wind; you’d imagined as a kid you’d gotten them in the Night Court, the darkness that sometimes sparked from your fingertips unruly enough to make it plausible, but there was nothing definitive. And your parents, for all the good things your uncle said about his sister, had never tried to find you, leaving all questions unanswered. Left you alone with your uncle and your constant moving with his job. He worked hard to make a life for the two of you, you owed it to him to not cause any trouble, to stay inside and cook and read and help him with his trading business as best you could. Whatever it was out there that beckoned, it was not worth seeing the pain on your uncle’s face. He’d escaped something, that much was clear, you would not damn him to something else, even for your own peace of mind.

This year feels different though, and you can’t deny it. The voice more urgent, the drum beats louder. You find yourself rubbing your temples, a headache building, as you try and fail to read the recipe in your hands. The words blur, a swirl of indistinguishable colors and shapes. You pinch you eyes closed, shake your head as if to clear the voice, trying again and again to make the words make sense, but the drums won’t stop beating.

You hurl the book across the room, knocking a picture off the wall, glass shattering on impact.

“Leave me alone!” You hiss at no one, teeth bared. Talons form at your fingertips, dark shadows whispering over your skin.

“Come. Come and see,” begs the voice.

You draw a breath, then another, and another until the shadows disappear and the talons retract. If you blow the roof off the house, like last time, you’ll have to move again. Beyond your uncle’s disappointment there’s the issue of… her. The war bands, the bogge, the Attor, always a threat looming over your travels, pushing you further and further away from busy cities, all enough on their own, but the Blight adds another layer. Your Uncle said the war she helped wage against the humans was devastating, but the one she could bring here? Sometimes you wonder if she’s the reason you move so much, as if your uncle has been trying in vain all these years to escape the war path closing in on Prythian. He’d never dare delve into the Human Lands, but Spring is one of the few places she has yet to ravish. You can’t risk another move.

You focus on controlling your breathing as you sweep up the glass, and leave the picture of you and your uncle on the table. You’ll find a new frame tomorrow, for today, it’s best if you take that sleeping tonic and avoid any further outbursts.

You make quick work of double checking the locks before changing into your sleep clothes and climbing into bed. It’s only just starting to get dark, the last few rays of sunlight fighting to break through your worn curtains. The priestesses didn’t mention how long it would take to work, or how long it would last, but the drums are still so loud, and the voice won’t stop pleading. It’s a nice voice, if your honest, but you can’t go out there. You won’t.

The vial in your hand is cold, the glass pitted like it’s been used before, it’s contents a bright blue color that glitters even in the darkness. You down it in one gulp, the taste like bursting, overripe fruit. The effects are immediate, you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillows.

  The house is strange, twisted; the wooden walls thorny, gnarled like old tree trunks, the wind howling through the gaps of what used to be the windows. Fire light flickers through the gaps, casting shadows across the space as you stumble from the bed, bare legs caught in sheets suddenly made of vines.

It’s wrong, all wrong.

You stumble on legs that don’t quite work right down the stairs, slashing yours hands open on the thorns that had sprouted out of the railing alongside dark, night blooming flowers.

“Come. Come and see.”

The flowers bloom at the sound of the voice, the violets petals glowing in the darkness, leading you like wisps out the front door, now covered in vines and leaves. Disoriented, you follow the flowers out into the night, the stars dazzlingly bright overhead.

The world outside is not the one you know, the rolling hills now scorched and burned, the trees gnarled and twisted. Dark shapes with glowing eyes sit on the dying branches, starring only at you, some growling, others hissing.

There’s a single line of flowers, twisting away from the leering eyes and you race after them.

“Come. Come and see.”

You’re running before you know it, scooping up flowers as you go.

Something behind you still growls, it’s footsteps rattling the ground behind you. No matter where you look, you can’t see it, like it’s wholly veiled in the darkness. It has your heart pounding in your chest, the beat steady like drums. You push yourself faster, following the flowers over the ruined hills.

The flowers lead you into another wooded area, the trees still barely clinging to life here, their fallen leaves crunching under your bare feet. Branches tug at your shift, tearing the thin materiel, clawing at your exposed legs. Still, the thing behind you prowls closer, it’s breath hot as flame as it chases you.

The flowers wind around trees, deeper, deeper, into the dark, the only light the stars and the flowers; it’s your only chance at escaping. You push, going as fast as your legs can carry you, the drum beats of your heart still echoing in your ears. Soon enough the flowers direct you in a straight line, directly into the mouth of a cave. It feels wrong, going into a cave with some sort of beast snapping on your heels but what other choice do you have?

You reach the mouth of the cave, hand brushing the rough rock, gasping for breath. The darkness beyond beckons, “Come. Come and see,” but there are no flowers here. No stars to light the way, only the darkness of night and shadows.

The thing beyond you roars in challenge as you set one foot in…

You jerk awake like your soul is coming back into your body.

Maybe it is, because you’re not in your bed. There’s half a dozen cuts across your bare legs, staining the bottom of your torn shift, mud splattered across your legs. It feels like you’re wading through soup as you assess yourself, your mind muddled, unable to process where you got the glowing, violet flower in your hands. When you finally have the presence of mind to look up, you are in fact starring at the cavernous mouth of a cave you’ve never seen before.

Somewhere in the distance, the drums pound. Firelight dances among the treeline behind you. You’d gotten outside. On Calanmai. The tonic not only failed, it had left you so horribly vulnerable and queasy you were shaking. You need to get back home, back inside where it’s safe.

From somewhere in the shadows of the trees not far from you, a voice says, “I’m pretty sure I saw her go this way!”

Ice shoots through your veins, feet freezing in place.

The flower seems to warm in your hands, as if reminding you it was there, of the dream that had brought you here. You glance at the cave, the darkness beckoning. It might be a safe place to hide, if those voices are in fact looking for you. They are clearly male, and a few of them at that, and alone in a shift on Calanmai…

The cave might be a terrible spot, you’re pretty sure you had heard something about High Lords and caves, specifically on Calanmai, but the drowsy effect of the tonic has not entirely worn off, and with the voice drawing closer you don’t have time to try and remember what it was.

You step into the darkness, praying it isn’t the worst mistake of your life, and the darkness envelopes you like a caress. It’s almost as if it… moves, shadows and night itself twining around your legs, your arms, brushing along your spine with feather light touches. As if darkness is acquainting itself with the feel of you. You shiver, nervous, but the touch is not unwelcome.

Voices sound outside, but they are muffled, veiled.

Another step, then another, the flower still clutched in your hand blooms, glowing a little brighter. The scent of jasmine and citrus flows from it, fills all your senses.

The cave descends, the ground sloping a bit, and then you have to duck to follow the worn path. There should be loose rock along the path, but it is smooth, like sand beneath your bare feet, like someone had come along and swept out the debris. There’s nothing there to hinder your progress towards what you can only assume is the heart of the cave.

Perhaps this is all a part of your strange dream, that would certainly explain the flower, but what other choice do you have no but to keep going? From behind you, those voices from the woods sound again, as if they have stepped into the cave too.

“You’re sure she came in here?”

“Where else would she go out here?”

“Do you think Mistress will let us have a little fun before she gets her hands on her?”

Its that that makes you freeze, all thought eddying from your head.

The flower shrinks in your hand, the light dimming, even as the darkness of the cave twines itself around you, the caress like a cat rubbing against your legs, as if it’s trying to soothe you, calm you. You can’t move.

The sudden shift in the air of the cave is palpable. Goosebumps raise on your arms as the temperature drops, as the darkness deepens.

“What the fuck?” One of the men hisses.

And then the screaming starts, the blood curdling cries rattling the walls.

Still you can’t move, can’t see, can only stand there in the company of the shadow still rubbing soothing circles into your back while the earth trembles and dust rains down from the cave roof.

Just as quickly as the screaming starts, it stops, the only sound know the subtle drip of something wet hitting the floor. Your senses are sharp enough for you to scent the cooper tint of blood in the air, but even your keen senses can’t pick up what caused it. You can’t hear anything either, no footsteps, no fighting. It’s over.

You exhale a shaky breath, hands still trembling around the flower. Until it suddenly dies, the petals falling from your cupped hands. You’re strangely attached to it now, hands scrambling to catch the petals in the dark when that same glow appears around the bend in the cave.

Another flower, a way out!

You step towards it, not stopping to ask yourself why this one is smaller, so far away from the ground. Its not until you’re nearly upon it, nearly slamming into it, that you realize it’s not a flower at all. It doesn’t truly click into place until a firm set of hands grabs hold of you, stopping you from slamming right into the owner of that glowing set of violet eyes.

You might have screamed, were it not for the voice that says, “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

The world tilts before you as it clicks into place that you know that voice. It’s the one that called you out here.

[aphroditelovesu]

Kinktober Day Twelve — Exhibitionism

❝ — 🍷 lady l: day twelve of kinktober!! I hope you like it!! Also, art is not mine, credit to the creators, unfortunately, I couldn't find them. Sorry for any mistakes ❤️

❝🍷pairing: yandere!dionysus x female!reader.

❝warnings: smut, NSFW, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (male receiving).

❝🍷word count: 1,130.

In ancient times, in the leafy hills of Greece, a fervent worship followed Dionysus, the god of wine, the party and ecstasy. Each spring, when the first sunbeams began to heat the earth, his followers gathered in ecstasy to celebrate his God in a spectacle known as Bacchanal.

The place chosen for this celebration was a clear in the heart of the forest, where centenary trees rose majestically around a rustic altar. Dressed with purple tunics and vine garlands tangled in his hair, followers of Dionysus danced and intoned songs in honor of the god of wine.

As the wine flowed freely into ceramic glasses, joy and passion took over everyone. Musicians played flutes and drums, and the flames of a large bonfire crackled in the center of the circle, casting a dancing light on the ecstatic faces of the participants.

Dionysus was represented by a young man, often chosen for his beauty and grace. He personified the god, and his followers paid homage to him, offering him grapes and wine. In the midst of the celebration, a reverential silence fell over the place when the young Dionysus ascended the altar and, in a gesture of divine communion, shared the wine with those present.

As the night progressed, the atmosphere became more intense and liberating. Followers danced barefoot, losing themselves in an ecstasy that connected them directly with the divine. It didn't matter their social origin, everyone was equal before Dionysus.

The Bacchanal of Dionysus was a tribute to the joy, vitality and strength of nature. In those moments of celebration, followers disconnected from the concerns of the everyday world, surrendering themselves to the power of the god of wine, in a search for spiritual transcendence through the party. And so, every spring, the Greek hills were filled with the singing, dancing and euphoria of Dionysus' devotees, in a festival that reminded everyone of the importance of celebrating life and the passion it offers.

You always knew that Dionysus was an armed exhibitionist and never had problems with that. Part because you were one too, but the idea of letting him fuck you in front of his followers was at least strange and a little uncomfortable.

His followers are all drunk, as they were always in the festivities, and they would hardly remember that, but you were still not sure.

Dionysus, however, already knew what he wanted and he always got what he wanted.

You on your knees and sucking him until you beg for him to fuck you in front of his followers. And he intended to accomplish this fantasy.

Dionysus stroked your face and removed a lock of hair from your eye and admired their color for a moment.

"On your knees." He said in an authoritarian way and you, not knowing how to react, obeyed him and fell on your knees to your God. You stuck your hand under his chiton and you stroked him as you felt his cock hard.

You approached more and pulled the chiton's fabric to the side, giving the complete sight of his cock for you. You could feel your salivary mouth and, without caring about the others, you licked the tip timidly. Your tongue moistened to the glans of his cock and Dionysus gasped.

You took his cock with your hand and suck him, swallowing the maximum of the length of the god you could handle. What was not fit in your mouth, you took with your hand and made light movements from top to bottom.

"F-Fuck!" Dionysus moaned and stroked your hair. The vision of you on your knees for him and sucking his cock was very delicious. He looked to the side and saw his followers observe you with interest. He smiled at them and drank a sip of his glass of wine.

You removed it from your mouth with an obscene sound and smiled to the god, your lips wet. You squeezed his cock and licked all the length, your tongue lingering on the glans. Dionysus moaned loudly and pulled you through the hair, forcing you to stop sucking it.

"Take off your clothes." He ordered and you, hesitantly, obeyed and slid your chiton through your body, giving the vision of your nakedness to all presents. Contrary to what you imagined, it filled you with desire and your core throbbed.

Dionysus removed his own chiton and stood naked too, he sat in the chair and slapped it lightly on his thigh. You understood what you should do and slowly, you took his shoulders, balancing, and after adjusting a little, your pussy was dangerously close to his dick.

"Ride me, sweetie." He whispered and you went down slowly, your cunt swallowing Dionysus's cock as you thrust his cock on you. You took a deep breath and moaned, feeling full. Dionysus grabbed your hip and gave a little push up, causing you to squirm with pleasure.

You moaned and squeezed the broad shoulders of the god and without caring about the crowd that watched you intently, you ride him. Your breasts moved as you moved your body and Dionysus kissed your neck, still squeezing your hip.

You whined when the god sucked the skin with a little force, definitely leaving a mark. You squeezed his shoulders and ride his cock frantically. Your cunt sucking his cock, your body receiving waves of pleasure with every move.

Dionysus looked around and smirked at his followers, who faced you with lust. Some drank his wine, others ate grapes and others kissed and touched.But they all had one thing in common, they never took the gaze from you.

"Your pussy is so good, princess!" Dionysus moaned and squeezed your waist, his head tucked between your breasts and licking your nipple from your left breast. You whimpered and felt your climax approach.

Dionysus threw his head back and moaned your name as he came inside you, his cum filling your tight pussy. You moaned and moving quickly on his cock, you came, your pussy clenching around him, cumming on his cock.

You clutched to the god, your body shaking a little. You did not dare look at others, not wanting to know what they were doing.

Dionysus lazily began to move inside you, his hip pushing up slowly. You looked up and looked at him in his eyes. He smirked.

"Our joke is just starting, princess." He drank a sip of his wine and kept moving his hip slowly. You moaned and grabbed him harder.

His followers never ceasing to look at his body.

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 3

Summary - After the second war, an unexpected bond with Y/n Archeron, and repairing all he's lost, Tamlin is shocked with news from the very female Rhys has been protecting from him.

Warnings- alcohol use, implied affair,implied smut, sex magic/sex pollen

A/n- Everything will be explained to y/n and wrapped in a mostly pretty bow in Part 4 on Tuesday 💚

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 4

Tamlin sat in silence, nursing hard alcohol as Rhys reappeared before him hours later. “It explains a lot,” Rhysand said softly as he sat. Tamlin pushed the Winter Court Scotch Rhysand's way. “I swear we didn't know, Tamlin.”

“So Feyre admitted it?” Rhys nodded, staring into the bonfire Tamlin had going. “She's not truly happy anymore, Rhys.”

“We know. She hasn't been happy since she watched Cassian and Nesta fall in love and their mating bond grow, then Lucien and Elain, then Amren and Varian, Eris and his wife. Mor and Emerie.” The High Lord threw back a heavy drink. “Then Azriel found his mate. And now she feels like she's an obstacle to his happiness, he feels she's a burden but refuses to let her go. He wants both."

Tamlin hummed, ignoring the flaring anger at the idea of his mate being treated like a second choice, like a burden. “How did she end up in Spring?”

Rhys sighed and looked down. “She wanted to get away from Azriel. They had gotten into a fight while he was training her. She wanted to go somewhere she'd be loved and safe unconditionally.”

Rhys paused, eyes locked on the stars. “It's funny, you know, Feyre painted their dresser drawers to fit their personalities and they've predicted their mates too.” He drank heavily again, eyes watering slightly. “Feyre painted the night sky on hers and became the stars eternal. Nesta's was bathed in flames so red the closest match we could find to recreate the dresser was Cassian's siphons, and we watched that scene during the war with that so called God, silver flames blazing and reflecting the red of my brother's armor. Elain's danced with sunlight and flowers. Her and Lucien the heir of the fucking Day Court,” Tamlin couldn't help the laugh that came with that sentence, nor could Rhys. “They live in Helion's largest garden in a cabin.”

“And y/n?” 

“A raging storm and blooming trees.” 

“And yet you all keep her there. Where she isn't destined by the Mother to be and where she is screaming for freedom.”

“Feyre isn't prepared to forgive nor forget.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes, purposely pushing every moment he had done something to make up for what he had done into Rhysand's mind. “I believe I have more than atoned for my sins against the female that started this all on a lie. The female who ended my curse should have been my mate, Rhys. That's why I fought so hard. Why I protected her even if my methods were ideas from my father and blind trauma. Did you not explain that to her?"

Rhys avoided answering, torn between the part of him that knew Tamlin was correct and the mating bond screaming to protect and defend inside of him. “I'll start sending her to you as an emissary. If the bond snaps on her end, we go from there. And Tamlin,” the High lord took his former friend's chin into his face. “Be grateful. Be grateful you didn't hear y/n's neck snap, that you didn't watch her be tortured for 3 months. That-”

“I watched the woman I loved go through all of that. Then I watched my mate be forced into an ancient world creating pot because i trusted the wrong female,” Tamlin took back the Scotch, drinking enough to burn his throat. “I think we understand each other more than you are willing to believe.”

Rhys nodded, looking away. “Y/n likes her bed made with 3 blankets so she can sleep with the window open at all times. She thinks white flowers are the prettiest. She likes chocolate way too much for a normal person.” 

Rhysand's jaw tightened before he continued. “Do you remember how my sister use to scrunch her nose really hard when she was thinking?” 

Tamlin chuckled softly into his hand, picturing her little face so clearly. “Y/n does the same thing.” It was a quiet confession, one that could have came with an apology, but the two of them has accepted the words “I'm sorry” would never be passed between them many years ago. 

“So you've kept her from me because she reminds you of Stella?” Rhys just nodded before winnowing away. 

Tamlin felt his lip twitch when you first appeared two months later. Rhys was either stupid, or fatherhood had made the male forget to look at a calendar. You were here for a 3 day weekend visit to discuss trade between Spring and the Night Court. 

A 3 day weekend that fell on Calanmai. Tamlin was shaking as he led you to the chambers he had built just for you. Chambers his Lady would reside in when or if they were choosing to sleep in separate beds. 

He realized he would have to keep you in the manor tonight, but excluding a guest from a court's most important holiday was considered a major offense. He thought about calling for Rhys, calling to remind him what today was, but he knew, at least he thought he did, that you would stay inside. It had worked with Feyre, after all. He had stopped searching for her when she wasn't easy to get to. Surely it would be the same for you. The magic would switch and call to another. He'd be able to ignore the scent of lilac, gooseberry, and fresh parchment.

He pushed open the door and watched your face with a deep breath held in his chest. “Tamlin, this room is too nice. This is clearly meant for someone with high standing. It's across from yours, I can't-”

“These are guest quarters for a high-ranking guest,” the lie came so smoothly. “You are a high-ranking guest. Get settled. I'll have a handmaid come get you for tea.” He shut the door behind you, going back to preparations and letting the kitchen know he needed tea made. 

Your guest room was fit for a queen, not a guest. A large walk-in closet sat willed with dresses, an island in the middle with drawers for jewelry. A standing mirror with ornate patterns of florals and vines sat unused, untouched. The bed was massive, possibly larger than the one you shared with Azriel, and it had soft satin sage green sheets, a fur throwing blanket lining the foot. 4 posts came off the bed, a light cream colored fabric and curtains creating a canopy and optional privacy. A vanity sat, empty and waiting for its lady to fill it with oils and lotions. 

He had clearly put you in a Lady's quarters. A safe place for her to be away from her husband. Something you had asked Azriel for since his bond with Gwyn snapped, and you two had begun drifting apart. Something he continued to deny you as tensions grew between you two.

You entered the door opposite of the closet and felt your heart begin to dance. The bathroom was stunning. White and grey marbled floors, a sunk in tub large enough for two, accents of that same soft green and gold. It was what the tub overlooked that made your heart truly flutter, though. It overlooked a garden and the forest. Elain would have killed for this view, but instead, you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and you took it all into yourself. Hogging the moment and soaking in it.

Nightfall came quickly, and Tamlin had warned you of what would come. You had made the choice to stay inside even though a pang of jealousy reared its ugly head.

You had no claim to him. No ownership over his body, his choices. It didn't change the emotion, though, as you laid your hands over the edge of that tub and watched fire make shadows dance across the leaves. 

He had warned you that you may feel tugging, a pull urging you to come outside. He had asked that you ignore it, and Cauldron, you were trying. You were ignoring that growing warmth in your stomach, the haze setting into your mind. You tried to focus on thoughts of the fight you and Azriel would finish when you got home. Of the way you would crawl into a separate bed from your husband as soon as he fell asleep, still smelling like Gwyn. You tried to focus your thoughts on your marriage and how it was slowly crumbling below you after his actions. 

But those tugs were growing stronger, aching in your chest with desire and need. You jumped as the door to your room slammed open, and Tamlin growled. He seemed more beast than fae, mind lost in whatever this ritual had done to him. “Tamlin?”

Your voice shook him enough as he kneeled down in front if you, broad chest exposed and covered in swirling paint. “Y/n,” his voice was strained as he struggled to keep his eyes on your face. “Should have sent you back.” He was grounding out each syllable. “Fucking Rhysand.” 

You felt it again, a harsh tug on your chest before warmth and dedication flowed into your body. You gasped at how close it felt and his eyes grew wide. “You can feel it?”

“Feel what? That tug?”

He nodded almost desperate as he lifted you out of the water and searched for something. He came back with your robe, wrapping you in it before trying to lead you somewhere. “Tamlin, where are we going?”

“The Cave.” His voice wasn't his own, but another tug came. That ancient echo spoke again, making you shiver.. “I won't allow this vessel to settle for less than his mate.” 

His mate. You almost froze, making whatever held Tamlin's body stop and throw you over his shoulder. “Close your eyes, and feel,” it commanded as it walked you out the front door. 

The cave was filled with the sounds of sex, the scent of magic, arousal, sweat. Tamlin laid you on a bed at the center of it, eyes blown with lust. You felt it then, that string binding your souls, holding you together like missing pieces to a puzzle. He was himself again now, looking down at you with hesitation. “I will let you go if you ask, little rose.”

Your body was humming, mind lost as your eyes began to water staring into his. “It's just mindless sex,” you repeated words you'd heard since Azriel's bond snapped. “It means nothing to you.”

Tamlin's brow knit, those green eyes aching with sorrow for you. “It means everything. You mean everything to me," and he crashed his lips down onto yours.

General Taglist:

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

@impossibelle @fxckmiup @applerubyy @awkardnerd @sleepylunarwolf @macimads @esposadomd @stormhearty

[jotaroslooseeyebrowhair]

Dp x Dc Prompt

Danny’s family dies for some reason right, and then he gets is adopted by the Wayne’s or the Kent’s or whoever you’d like really, and when he eventually gets to Gotham he feels the sheer amount of lost spirits and immediately finds the tallest rooftop possible, and starts dancing. Full on, around a bonfire type dancing, he’s doing a specific reaper dance that the ancients taught him to ease the souls of the lost, forgotten, and damned, so they can pass on safely to the zone and whatever awaits them next. He wants to help them, wants to ease the burden Gotham holds, taking care of all these lost souls. He smiles and laughs, dances to the songs Gotham herself gives him, the hustle-bustle of the night that he adores so much. His glowing freckles brighten for every soul that passes on and no matter how many bats come and try to interrupt him, he is just very very excited to be able to help so many souls, to ease Gothams burden, to be able to satisfy his obsession for the first time in weeks, he’s just, so so happy.

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( a collection of various settings for drabbles or prompts, or both! )

001. a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork . 002. a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 003. a cabin in the mountains, taking shelter from the snow storm. 004. an abandoned tea party, occupied with broken dolls . 005. the shooting range, empty casings clinking on the floor and sulphur in the air . 006. a music room, filled with melodies of an instrument . 007. an empty auto shop, hood of a car left open and quiet music coming through speakers . 008. a bright arcade, coins falling from machines and claws grabbing at soft toys . 009. the kennels, filled with barking dogs and excited companions . 010. a restaurant, where everyone is eerily quiet and staff are overly friendly . 011. a riding arena, with trained riders atop proud horses . 012. a mini golf course, sails of a windmill obscuring the path ahead . 013. a zoo, filled with an array of unique animals . 014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks . 015. a pond with ducks, seeking food . 016. a museum, displaying ancient bones and pottery of a history long ago . 017. a closed down prison, ghosts of violent history echoing in empty cells . 018. a quiet train station, lights overhead flickering and announcement board displaying errors . 019. the vast desert, scorching heat baring down at high noon . 020. the dark woods, filled with strange hanging symbols made of sticks . 021. a deep hole in the ground, covered by leaves and sticks . 022. a wishing fountain, base lined with copper coins of past wishes . 023. an abandoned picnic in an empty field, flask still warm with coffee . 024. a barn filled with hay and tools, old wood creaking in the wind . 025. a graveyard in the dead of night, wind howling through the trees . 026. a crumbling bridge above a raging river . 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . 028. the crossroads, in the middle of nowhere . 029. a cosy bonfire at summer camp, marshmallows roasting on the fire . 030. the top of a radio tower, with the perfect view of the surrounding area . 031. a lone phone box on a street corner . 032. a large elaborate temple dedicated to a deity, offerings still intact . 033. a drive-in movie theatre, cars empty and projector casting only light onto the screen . 034. a strange trail of breadcrumbs on a woodland path . 035. a haunted mansion, ancient paintings watching every footstep . 036. a decrepit mine located out in the hills, believed by locals to have a powerful curse cast upon it . 037. the edge of a cliff, overlooking the rough waves and distant sounds of approaching danger . 038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . 039. a flower shop, filled with bouquets and a sweet aroma . 040. an airport in the early hours of the morning, deprived of sleep . 041. a train on its way to its destination, a sleeping passenger resting on a shoulder . 042. an abandoned shack filled with strange books of the occult and something mysterious bubbling on the stove . 043. an empty throne room, moonlight glimmering through tall windows . 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . 045. deep within unmarked cave located in the side of a mountain, lit only by a flare . 046. the dusty streets of a western town, watched by wary residents . 047. the back of a vast library, surrounded by books, when a black book falls from the highest shelf . 048. a room of an asylum, an abandoned camcorder left in the middle of the room . 049. the shores of an unknown beach, washed up from the ocean . 050. the deck of an unsteady ship, waves crashing against the haul and rain lashing down from dark clouds .

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Fall Yandere Prompts

Fuck Me I put prompts on the other thing at didn't actually put prompts, I suck anyways here are a few prompts made by yours truly. Others are free to use them just please tag me. Thanks. I'll make more Halloween ones if people like these.

Apple Cider: A sweet yet tangy that leaves a warm feeling. Your eyelids start drooping after drinking every drop.

Bonfire: Dry sticks and leaves are so easy to burn in high bright flames. Be wary of what the light attracts.

Crows: Inky black birds with a glimmer of intelligence in their eyes. You feel a dozen pairs of eyes watching your every move.

Dry Leaves: Crunchy and brown and always fun to mess around in. You hear a second set of feet slowly trotting behind you.

End: Autumn signifies the end of Summer and a change in season. It also signified the end of your freedom.

Flannel: The warmth of this fall apparel is so comforting in the crisp weather. Don't you like it, they picked out just for you.

Grain: Bountiful and golden, shaking in the cool breeze. You meet a friendly stranger standing in the grain field, holding a scythe.

Harvest: Fall provides us with a bountiful harvest of corn, pumpkins, apples, pears, and grain. Such bounty requires a sacrifice to be made.

Indoors: Why go outside when you can snuggle under the covers and keep warm? Just because it's your home doesn't mean you are safe.

Jack-O-Lanterns: Grinning gourds light up the night, carving them is a fun activity. They want to participate but got a little too creative.

Kettle: Boiling water for a hot beverage on the stove is so nice. The water isn't quite done but you still hear whistling.

Leaf: Colorful trees make such wonderful leaves they look good pressed in a book. You see one on your bed side every day, they have a distinct metallic scent.

Mushrooms: Clustered together they're a fungi to be around. More seem to grow near you each day in strange patterns.

Nutmeg: Fall spices are aromatic and make every dish warm with flavor. If your running low the next-door neighbor might have some, might as well come inside while they look for what you need.

Orchard: Fruit trees tended to with tender care, baring crimson fruit. Picking just one won't hurt.

Pie: Steaming goodness wrapped in a golden shell. Have another slice there's plenty to go around.

Quiet: Many an autumn night is filled with sweet and calming silence. It feels a little too quiet tonight, might want to retire early.

Reaping: How to harvest the crops grown, you reap the rewards of the Earth. Someone has come to take you or your soul, they're not very picky.

Spider: Dainty legs weave beautiful webs, enticing as they are dangerous. Any prey they catch, they won't let go.

Tree: Majestic and tall these ancient plants reach up to the dwindling sun with aching branches. Haven't you seen that tree before, you must be hopelessly lost, perhaps that's better than being found.

Umbrella: The cold weather makes rain extra chilling; with a warm smile you share your umbrella. No good deed goes unpunished, as the storm outside isn't what you should be worried about.

Vermillion: Beautiful shade of red found plentifully in the fall, its beautiful yet it can be a dangerous color too.

Wind: Rattling trees and blowing the leaves to the ground, the wind tickles your ears and nips at your nose. It carries with it the unhinged words of a person you never want to see again.

Xenial: Being most hospitable is a must during autumn. This does not change when a stranger shows up at your front door requesting shelter.

Yarn: Soft threads of vibrant colors used to create warm clothes, blankets, and other things. The string prevents you from moving while someone knits in the corner, eyes focused on you.

Zipper: Better zip up when it's so chilly outside, wouldn't want to catch a cold. You also might want to zip it before they hear you.

[nightfrost-art]

Halloween originated from the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, which marked the transition from the harvest season to winter. Celts believed that on this night, the boundary between the living and the dead blurred. To ward off spirits, they lit bonfires and wore costumes. Over time, it evolved into modern Halloween traditions.

[biteofcherry]

Can you please share a filthy (but maybe also soft!!) thought about Entwined!Steve?! 🥺 Does he have a favorite kink? Or maybe is there something random that has him going from zero to feral real fast?

As an ancient being an actual god, Entwined Steve has a weakness for rituals and celebrations of old traditions. Like summer solstice, or autumn equinox. There's mysterious atmosphere to it, full of temptation. He used to watch lovers wander into the woods on summer solstice night in search of mythical fern's flower, but ending up fucking on the forest floor.

Now he has you to join him on the strolls through the moonlight streaked forest, watching through the magical veil that separates you from the human world.

He teases you, asking if you ever wanted to find the nonexistent flower. When you shrug, saying you preferred dancing around the bonfire, Steve gives you a wicked grin.

He gives you his hand and offers to search for it with you. As with the humans, the search is a foreplay that ends with Steve fucking your brains out.

Taking you raw on the dirty ground as you moan and giggle is perhaps his greatest kink.

The fern flower never existed, but Steve creates it for you; letting a unique single bloom open its luminous petals as you lay in the afterglow on the ground, your pussy still stretched around his cock.

The other thing that has him going both smitten and feral is seeing you so simply free and happy:

when you stretch your limbs after waking up, your naked body soaked in the morning glow and the changes in your body prominent;

when you laugh and run through the forest as rain patters through the branches, running toward him;

when a sapling grows toward your fingers for the first time as your blooming power tickles it.

Well, seeing you happy and free and growing into your potential gives him a kick, but it's also the knowledge that it's all due to his power. His power and essence filling you, changing you. Marking you as his.

[catacomb-rats]

Different Seasons of Horror

Summer horror: Slashers at summer camps, rowdy house parties where the popular girl goes missing, bored to death in your small town looking for trouble to get into, crop circles, the heat making you see things that aren't there

Fall horror: Moving figures in the cornfields, the smell of a distant bonfire, scarecrows, sneaking into the woods to smoke and tell ghost stories, that abandoned house at the end of the road has fresh jack-o-lanterns on the porch, waiting impatiently for Halloween

Winter horror: Ancient folk tales, long nights, finding a shrine made from old bones in the woods, superstitions and magic, old legends about the witch trials in your town, waking up to find that you've been snowed in overnight

Spring horror: The smell of rot, church bells tolling, flowers growing over the place a body was buried last winter, clinging tight to the crucifix around your neck, white dresses, cutting open an Easter lamb cake to find real blood inside

[marthawrites]

The Gift That Keeps Giving

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.8k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part 2 to A Gift for the Queen (pls be kind it was the second thing I wrote ♥)

About: You've happily stayed with Daemon and Rhaenyra since her birthday. They have a little game up their sleeve to play with you.

Includes: Explicit sexual content!! *takes a really deep breath* involving typical canon incest, M/F/F content, p in v, female masturbation, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), forced orgasm, orgasm denial, overstimulation, some degradation, manhandling, crying, adult language, and aftercare. With a sweet ending. WHEW. That's a mouthful. Idk friends there's a lot going on here and if I missed anything I apologize!

Note: Hello lovely reader! I'm not in charge of your imagination, but I write with the implications that Westerosi men go in raw and are uncut. Do with that info however you like. As always, reader is nondescript! Huge shout out to my girl Eliza who is just fucking awesome and I love her. This has been stewing in my brain forever and I finally was able to get it out. It's filthy. Please, enjoy! ♥

-

While it wasn't home, Dragonstone remained lovely. What made it even more lovely was the attention Rhaenyra bestowed upon you during the early mornings and late into the evenings. The Black Queen, despite (or perhaps in spite of) the neverending amount of responsibilities she had, had an insatiable taste for pleasure.

Her body showed all the signs of motherhood: faded stretch marks, widened hips, heavy breasts, and a soft cushion of fat around her middle. If she was beautiful before, deemed "The Realm's Delight" by her uncle-husband, then she was even more so now. Motherhood fit Rhaenyra. And in turn she was a good mom, too. 

You couldn't imagine how she balanced everything on her plate. Being a caring mother, a Queen against an upsurer king, a wife… How?

Daemon and Rhaenyra, like many in their ancestry, could only be sated by the fire of a fellow Targaryen. Twin flames from somewhere deep and ancient in the earth. Together they burned. You were certain it was the passion they shared in their intimate moments that kept them in check; a contained bonfire instead of rampant wildfire.

The Rogue Prince, still standing by what he said the first night you shared with them, had yet to let you have his cock. "Whores aren't deserving of my seed." As much as you savored every second of pleasure with Rhaenyra, you ached for him.

Doing as you were told, you sat in one of their chairs and were allowed to merely watch as Rhaenyra rode her husband until sweat sheened on her skin and her legs shook from exertion. It was torture. Daemon had a beautiful cock. Thick, solid, and forever eager to be wrapped around his wife's needy cunt; seemingly as many times as she'd like. And there you were. Both of your legs draped over the arms of the chair to expose yourself wide open, fingers fucking into yourself at the show, unable to reach the kind of climaxes Rhaenyra experienced. Your fingers were half useless despite their best efforts.

"You're being awfully quiet over here," Daemon crooned, walking over to you once he and his wife were finished. Sweat sheened on him too. "Is your Queen fucking her prince so boring?"

You'd been far from quiet. A blush had taken home in your cheeks and your folds glistened with evidence of orgasm. "Never boring," you breathed in reply, looking up at Daemon from beneath your lashes.

He tutted and swatted your hand away from your center. "You are. Perhaps you need to be reminded just how loud you can get." Bringing two fingers up to your mouth he pushed past your lips until his Targaryen signet squished against the corner of your mouth. He smirked at your eager acceptance. He planted his other hand upon the back of your chair, eyes keen on you.

Were your gag reflex any weaker it would have stuttered around his abrupt intrusion. The shadow of his bulk looming over you caused a whine of anticipation to escape your throat, vibrating around his fingers.

He pulled them out and a lewd little line of spittle broke between your lip and the tip of his finger. 

"My prince…," you purred, heart thumping wildly beneath your flushed chest. "I do think I need to be reminded. I haven't had a cock in sooo long… my fingers can only go so far. They are much smaller than you." Unintentionally – or perhaps wholly intentionally – your hips squirmed in a silent beg for any sort of attention he might give you.

Dark amusement swelled his pupils. "Small and pathetic," he said sardonically. "Can you even reach where you're begging to be touched?" With his question he delivered a quick smack to the fullness of your spread cunt. 

You yelped, surprised, eyes popping open as a second slap followed. "A-ah!" Your legs closed in an attempt to shield yourself from his touch.

"Play nice with our sweet girl," Rhaenyra chimed from the bed. Amusement laced her words too. "We want her to be eager to play later. Isn't that right, husband?"

Flicking your attention to the marital bed you saw that Rhaenyra didn't look up or anything else – content to lay and relax in bliss for a few moments longer before getting ready for the day.

Daemon sniggered, one big hand easily parting your legs open. You weren't squeezing too hard, merely had your thighs pressed together to keep yourself protected from further taunts. "That's right," he replied to his wife over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to you. “Our favorite, and prettiest, whore.”

The weight of his gaze sent your own pupils swelling. You smiled at his praise. “Always happy to be in service of my Queen. And King.” The Prince Consort liked it when you called him that. He liked it even more when it spilled from your pretty lips in a beg for him to fuck you – a gift he still hadn’t given you. Most, though, he liked it when you and Rhaenyra half whispered it on your knees between sharing his cock.

A third slap was delivered to your cunt and you barely managed to muffle a startled whimper behind a bitten lip. “How quickly do you think you could come on my fingers?” He tilted his head in question, eyes still sharp on yours. In the same motion he squeezed the back of your chair for extra support while pushing two calloused digits into your yearning center. He knew right where to find that delightfully sensitive spot along your walls. He sought it and abused it. And, to make matters all the more lascivious, his thumb worked your clit in tandem. “You won’t get a second chance, girl. If you wish to come, then come. Now.” His pace was brutal. And wonderful. He had no shame when it came to pleasure; the obscenity of the wet slaps from his finger fucking sent you over the edge quickly.

The coil of pleasure in your belly snapped with all the force it had been wired with; a straining haste that left you gasping as if Daemon’s hand were wrapped around your throat. A moment ago you were merely under his gaze. Now, your thighs squeezed his forearm as bliss washed over you in hot waves of desperation. You whined a string of moans so sweet it sent the towering prince to near purrs.

“Say thank you,” he said, pulling his fingers from your clenching depths.

“Thank you, my prince.” 

That is how Daemon and Rhaenyra left you for the day. Alone to do as you please; eager for their return. Duty called and kept them away until after sundown.

-

“Will Daemon not want to be present for this, your Grace?” You were barely able to whisper between heated pants. 

Rhaenyra had propped pillows beneath your backside to give herself a better angle to your soaked core. Her arms were looped around your thighs so she could support herself upon her elbows. She was happily face down into you with her ass up and pointed to the door. Slowly, she lapped, and slowly, she sucked, seeming to be more than content to have you as many times as she pleased. Your fingers curled in her soft hair. It was in a single haphazard braid and you didn’t feel guilty for messing it up anymore than it already was. 

A playful hum vibrated against your folds. “Even in this room I am still the Queen. If my lord husband isn’t happy with what he sees upon arrival, then, well…,” she paused, thinking. “I suppose he won’t get to play.” She returned her attention to you and your eyes rolled closed at the skill of her mouth. 

Just on the edge of your pleasure, right before you were flung into the crest, the door opened and Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder to see who would come in so rudely. The peak she’d been working you towards was gone in an instant. If you were lucky, it wouldn’t take long to reach again.

“Sȳz bantis, ābrazȳrys,” good evening wife, Daemon said softly in High Valyrian – their ancestral language a thing you still couldn’t understand. “Emare kirimves?” having fun He asked with a quirk of brow.

“Kessa,” yes she replied, grinning.

By now the door was latched and locked behind him. “Ȳdra daor ivestragī nyke keligon ao,” don’t let me stop you he said and he stepped further into the room and began to disarm and undress.

Were these two ever not horny? You thought privately to yourself. Almost daily, and sometimes multiple times a day, they coupled. You’d witnessed firsthand their sex life was far from boring – and that’s only what you’ve seen! Surely you hadn’t witnessed all that their passion could bring. 

“Ziry's mazilībagon, valzȳrys,” she’s set, husband Rhaenyra said with a glimmer you hadn’t seen in her eyes before. Her attention turned fully to you, then, a smolder behind her vibrancy. “Tonight it’s my turn to watch,” she cooed, delicately kissing your sensitive bud in departure.

A shudder ran through you at the combination of her words and lips. Could she really mean…? Was tonight the night you’d been waiting for since arriving at Dragonstone with the Rogue Prince? Excitement shot through you as Rhaenyra moved from the bed to the chair you normally sat in. Even fully nude she looked like a queen should. Poised. Regal: a glimmer of something mischievous or unhinged – perhaps both – right there behind her eyes.

Daemon, now nude, wordlessly beckoned you over. He stood at the edge of the bed: every burn and scar of his seasoned warriors' body on display in the low light of their room. You obeyed with barely any other thought in your head. The same glint as his wife's shown in his face. You were nothing but a play thing for them. A pretty little bird for them to clip and make sing. If Dragonstone – their room – were your cage, you cared little. Who would ever complain about being in service to the Black Queen and her Prince Consort?

"Kiss it," he said evenly, a bite of sternness behind his tone.

He wasn't yet hard. Even his flaccid manhood made your thighs clench. It was as handsome as the rest of him and you wasted no time in trailing warm kisses along his cock, reveling in the sensation of him growing harder beneath your attention. "Gonna let me have it all for myself tonight?" You asked, pumping along his length with a spit-slick hand. Your kisses were open mouthed and wet, tongue accompanying here and there.

"Be a good little whore and quit teasing. If you want it hard then make it hard. Stop this playing," Daemon sneered down at you, pinching your chin between thumb and forefinger to turn your eyes up to him. "Have you had a good day lazing about like a spoiled cat?" Head tilted with his question, traditional silver tresses catching moonlight. "No thoughts in your pretty head… daydreaming about being bent over and fucked. How does it feel to haven't anything to fret over?" A mock laced his tone – bitterness and amusement alike.

You merely smiled up at him. Taunting. "Boring…," you replied before taking his tip between your lips. He tasted warm and salty. Your head bobbed forward and backward as you worked him up the way you knew he liked it. Musk filled your nose and your core instantly clenched. You wanted nothing more than to have him thrusting in and out of you: claiming you, taking you, using you for his pleasure. And if you were lucky, Rhaenyra would join too.

He laughed dryly. "A spoiled little bitch." He twitched in your mouth. By now his cock was fully hardened and slobbery; your eyes glassy from need and strain. Whether prompted by your words or a wave of lust, he grabbed the sides of your arms, squeezing harshly, and maneuvered you around to his liking.

Before you could put it all together, you were on your hands and knees atop the bed with Daemon looming behind you. His cock seared your skin. You gasped wholly surprised and wanton as you looked up to where Rhaenyra still sat and watched; purple eyes alight with wickedness. "Your Grace…?" You asked, spine bending down tantalizingly to prop your ass firmer against the Rogue Prince. Lust consumed your blood and you gripped the plush bedclothes, cunt throbbing with anticipation.

"It's time for you to have your fun. And for me to have mine," she replied, lips pouting in a smile before flashing her teeth in a delighted expression. In her hand she held a phallic shaped object and you knew exactly what it was. The base portion that was meant to be held sparkled with an array of dazzling cut gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds. The toy the Black Queen meant to fuck herself with gleamed with enough wealth to buy youself a comfortable new life – and yet for her it was merely another thing. An object to use for pleasure as her husband fucked her sweet little pet. She looked at Daemon with a tilt of her head, her body lax and open for the voyeuristic experience. Whatever was shared between them was private, meant for only husband and wife, and Rhaenyra bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

Daemon’s hands gripped your hips and your heart thumped to a new high. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered how many other women – or men, if the rumors you'd heard of the dragon prince were true – were in this position before. Words couldn't even form on your tongue. All you could manage was a sultry connection with Rhaenyra as your eyes stayed on her. Eager. Excited. Fucking elated. 

She began circling her clit right as Daemon lined himself up with you. His tip was swollen with as much need as coursed through you, and he pushed himself into your saturated core. 

Immediately your jaw slackened with a lusty gasp. He was so big, and so thick, and so hot, that the air was forced from your lungs. He pushed deeper and your eyelids fluttered, fingers gripping into the smooth quilts. With a final flex of his hips and thighs, he was fully hilted into you. 

The weight of his torso fell over your back. "If I were any smaller you'd be loose around me, whore," he hissed by your ear, one big calloused hand palming up the length of your spine until it reached the back of your neck. He held you there, mindful of his finger placement, before dragging his hips backwards. 

You barely had time to miss the delirious stretch of him, because when he snapped forward into you, an unrestrained moan shuddered through your form. "O-oh! Yes, Daemon, please…!"

He grunted as his grip tightened around your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh that padded there. "Was it your Queen who got this cunt so wet? Or was it me?" He asked, the slaps of his pelvis against your asscheeks quickly filling the bedchamber. The natural clench of your body had his already hot blood boiling. The desire to relentlessly pound into you for his own high and pleasure clouded his mind. As much as he'd love to give into that primal part of himself, he wouldn't. There wasn't any fun in that. At least the kind of fun he and Rhaenyra were after.

"Both," you barely managed to say. He'd hardly been fucking you for longer than a few moments and already he had you cockdrunk and ready to drool into their expensive bedding. His pace and pressure hit you at all the right angles. You’d been with Rhaenyra and Daemon exclusively for a couple moons now, and you hadn’t the satisfaction of a cock in that time. The backs of your legs tightened. Your toes curled.

A dark laugh vibrated out from Daemon. "Look at you... already dazed out on my cock. Little slut. You don't get to finish yet," he said with a firm slap to your backside, pulling out and leaving you empty right before climax could wash over you. "Watch your Queen's perfect cunny take her toy." Pulling you by the hair at the back of your head, he turned your attention forward as he slid into you once again. His pace, while still as powerful, was slower this time. His balls slapped against your clit to add another level of obscenity to the lewdness of the night’s event.

The denial of your orgasm seemed to spur Rhaenyra on even more than she already was. The smooth leather wrap of the dildo shone with her slick. Her hips rolled in tandem with her wrist, and both were accented by her pants and whimpers of solo bliss. Pleasure relaxed her face. She grinned at both of you.

Wonderful tension coiled in the pit of your belly. Warm, and tight, and tingling, echoes of it reverberated throughout your entire body and your eyes closed with the sensations. Daemon’s grip hardly laxed, yet you still found the strength to push back against him to meet his thrusts. It was maddening. Beautifully maddening. Something – perhaps nothing – changed in his pace and the embers he’d been stoking threatened to combust. “I’m gon–... fuck, please, my prince… Don’t stop!”

Instantly, he pulled out of you and stopped. The entirety of his length was shiny with your arousal; even the hair of his groin was damp with you. He laughed when you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him with wetted eyelashes. “You should see yourself right now. Pathetic.”

Rhaenyra’s ministrations grew hotter and sloppier, climax seeming to threaten her as well. Unlike you, she didn’t have anyone controlling the reins. The Black Queen gave into her pleasure and allowed orgasm to take her. Panting, shuddering, and glowing, she was lovely in the throes of her peak.

The squelching of her bejeweled toy sent Daemon half-feral. He flipped you over on your back, leering down at you as he squished your thighs flat against your breasts. You were bent in half and each thrust led him to the deepest parts of your cunt. You half screamed behind your hand, jolts of white hot ecstasy webbing throughout your senses as he fucked you. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll fucking smack you,” he huffed between throaty growls, relishing the sight of you and his wife alike. She was fucking herself again, greedy for more.

This had to be part of the game they were playing. The build up of your peak only to be denied at the last second… what a cruel thing to do. Emotion swam in your eyes until they were glassy from unshed tears. “Please let me come!”

Again, he pulled out from you. Again, you glared with a half sob. The muscles of your legs shook and your scalp felt fuzzy. He wasn’t going easy on you and you wondered how long he could do this before he drowned beneath a crest too. Tears pricked from the outsides of your eyes to roll behind your ears. He almost lost it right then and there. “No,” he smirked coldly. Muscles flexed and tightened as he positioned you up on your knees: his front to your back, you facing Rhaenyra, one arm holding you flush to him as the other gripped your hip. “She likes it when you cry. Let’s show her more of those pretty tears, hm?” He rasped by the shell of your ear, pushing into your overly sensitive center.

A sheen of sweat covered Rhaenyra. The fingers of her free hand played with her clit now, too, edging her bliss as long as she could.

Daemon palmed your breasts and squeezed your nipples. His pace was near brutal now; sweat slicked between your bodies through the control and exertion. “Gods… it’s too much! Please, your Grace, my prince…!” You begged through broken moans. Just as your body began shuddering against Daemon’s, he stopped all he was doing and let his cock slip out of your bullied walls. You sobbed fully this time. Tears fell down your face. Desperation washed over you. They were cruel – both of them – never had they strung you along like this.

“Poor sweet little whore. Begging and crying. It should be your Queen you’re begging to. Let’s give her one more orgasm, yeah? Then maybe she’ll let you finish on your prince’s cock.” 

As if together, Rhaenyra’s self-driven thrusts matched Daemon’s as he began taking you yet again. You couldn’t think straight. Could hardly keep your blurry eyes open. You cried out whimpered moans of their names and begged through broken syllables. It was too much. All of it was too much. Daemon’s cock felt so fucking good it took everything you could muster to not give in to your body’s primal desires.

Fresh tears clumped your eyelashes. Rhaenyra found her second climax at the sight of them. Her chest heaved with the force of it; soft abdomen rolled with the release. Creamy slick coated her dildo and her actions finally slowed before stopping; core too sensitive to take anymore.

“Come now, girl,” Daemon cooed, fingertips swiping and circling over your clit. You didn’t need to be told twice. Once your orgasm took hold of you, you nearly blacked out with its intensity. Never in your life had you experienced something like this, and if you weren't already teary you would have cried real tears with the release of such a high build up. 

Your gripping and convulsing walls were too much for the Rogue Prince, too, and he barely pulled free from your depths to release his seed into the air. Ropes of it landed atop the bedding – white against the dark material – and he groaned like a beast at your back. 

You slumped forward, wholly spent, and Daemon carefully moved from behind you. Laying on your belly you looked between Daemon and Rhaenyra, laughing. "Seven Hells… maybe next time there could be a little warning?"

Sweat and sex hung in the air and it took all of you a few moments to gather yourselves from the fervor of shared passion.

"That takes some of the fun out of it though," Rhaenyra answered after a few moments as she walked to you with a clean washcloth. She had a silk robe wrapped loosely around her. She bent to kiss your forehead. "You did very well for us tonight, little dove. If you truly wanted it to stop, you know all you needed was to say something."

"I know," you replied, cleaning yourself up. "Thank you."

"My lord husband wasn't too rough with you, was he?" She asked sincerely.

You laughed again and shook your head. "No, your Grace."

He smirked at your answer, as did Rhaenyra. "Good," she said. "We can all remember that for next time."

The three of you finished cleaning up with light-hearted chatter and soft touches. Afterwards, wine and a late night snack were shared. When sleep finally overcame you, all of you were a tangle of limbs and silk in the big bed.

-

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

masterlist

taglist: to be added or removed please let me know! ♥

@melsunshine  @iiamthehybrid  @arcielee  @nina2697  @sahvlren @targaryenbrainrott @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragonn @aemonds-fire @meggiemay82 @doublesparrows @silverwinged @nikstrange @castellomargott @lost-and-founds @chompchompluke

[khaire-traveler]

🌫️ Subtle Erebos Worship 🌑

Sit in stillness for a while, especially darkness; meditate or become comfortable in the quiet

Take time each day to decompress from the events of the day; relax and rest

Drink herbal tea or a warm drink you enjoy before bed; preferably something soothing

Get a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Start a bedtime/nighttime routine

Try to avoid screens an hour before bed; try reading a book, drawing, or another relaxing and screenless activity

Fall asleep/meditate/study to music reminiscent of emptiness, stillness, or liminality (links included to videos I sleep/listen to c:)

Have a stuffed animal that reminds you of darkness, stillness, or The Void™; nocturnal animals work well (Stygian owl, trust me)

Have imagery of fog, darkness, the night sky, what you believe the creation of the universe looked like, or The Underworld (his name is sometimes conflated with The Underworld itself) around

Dedicate a collection of coins to the souls passing into The Underworld who don't have coins to cross the Stygian

Watch the sunrise; watch the sunset

Learn about the night sky; learn the different constellations and myths they have

Learn about space; learn about cave systems; learn about anything you consider mysterious, expansive, and a bit frightening

Visit/tour a cave (SAFELY!!!!)

Leave water outside for nocturnal animals that stop by; leave out water for a bird bath

Listen to the morning bird songs; listen to the sounds of the night

Press/dry a flower still wet with evening dew

Practice mindfulness; practice meditation

Go camping, and sleep under the stars; take time to be present in nature, in the night

Watch a scary movie in the dark; you're also welcome to watch a comfort movie instead

Collect animal bones (thank the animal's spirit after doing so)

If fog rolls in, go outside in it; take a walk in it (SAFELY!!!)

Plant seeds in the ground; start a garden; tend to plants

Grow your own herbs or produce

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones; engage in spirit work if comfortable

Visit a cemetery; leave flowers on graves if given permission to do so

Reflect on your deeper beliefs; what do you believe about the different mysteries/uncertainties of life (the afterlife, universe creation, purpose, etc.)

Dance/sing to music that makes you feel ancient, mystical, mysterious, or generally cool

Take a walk during a new moon (if it is safe to do so your area)

Learn about self-defense; be sure to take a weapon with you when going out at night (if you feel it's necessary mostly)

Wear black or darker colors

Take a relaxing bath/shower at night, especially with herbs or in dim light (SAFELY!!!)

Write/read ghost or mystery stories

Light a bonfire; gather around it with loved ones; share scary or mysterious stories

Support space, deep ocean, or deep cave exploration organizations; support nocturnal animal preservation organizations

Learn about the different phases of the moon; learn about what each one means

Practice patience and restraint

Find healthy outlets for extreme emotions; drawing, writing, boxing, dancing, crafting, etc.

Learn to become comfortable within your own presence (this takes practice, it'll be ok)

Sleep with a small bag of soothing herbs under your pillow (lavender, jasmine, etc.) or charms

Keep a dream journal; try to interpret your dreams

-

This is my list of discreet ways to worship Erebos! He is rarely talked about, from what I've seen, but he is the God of Darkness, born from the primordial Khaos at the creation of everything. He is paired with Nyx often, and the two have had several children, including Hypnos and Thanatos. His name was used interchangeably with The Underworld sometimes. I'll likely add more later, but for now, I hope you enjoy what I've made. Take care. ❤️

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[jules-writes-stories]

Into the Night

A Retelling of Hades & Persephone | Azriel x Eris | Azris Week | Day 7| Equinox

Cast of Characters |

Eris | Persephone Azriel | Hades Lady of Autumn | Demeter Helion | Helios Lucien | Hermes Rhys | Zeus The Archeron Sisters | The Fates Cassian as himself

The first two parts are below. Read the whole story on AO3.

I

Scarlet hair blew across a pale face, like blood on freshly fallen snow. Golden eyes were lights upon dark water, a windy smile. He wanted this fae of Forest and Flame, like nothing he’d ever wanted before. Ours, the shadows whispered.

Each day was the same. Azriel spied on the beautiful male gliding through Autumn’s citrine-ruby forests, watched him slip between stalks of grain and orchards, the scent of stone fruit and loam cloying in the setting sun. 

Somehow the shadows had found their way into this court of hearth and harvest, once in thrall to a wicked Fire Lord, whose wife rose up and took the throne. Now, she ruled as Autumn’s High Lady with her seven sons. And it was the eldest that Azriel desired for his own.

He’d told his brothers, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, and Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed, just how much he needed the prince of Autumn. “Not until the Equinox,” Rhys had insisted. And Azriel was a patient male, a spymaster and a shadowsinger. He could wait for what was his.

Even as the golden cord that bound him to his mate, woven by the Mother herself, dragged at the unruly beast that was his heart. 

II

Today was the Equinox, most High Holy Day in Autumn, and all of Prythian. When Day and Night aligned in perfect balance. It was the one night each year, when the magical boundaries and borders dropped between Prythian’s courts. All fae, High and lesser, Solar and Seasonal, united as one, beneath the Mother’s loving gaze. 

Eris Vanserra, heir of Autumn, prepared for this night of revelry, like any other. He wore green velvet and diaphanous silk that whispered of trysts in moonlit forests. Gold lined his pointed ears, a single hoop in one nostril. 

Warrior, prince, fae of fire—this was his kingdom. And tonight, he would find his pleasure and replenish the land, to give back to its plenty. The prince left for the Forest, his brothers close behind. Fae danced around pyres, in time with distant drumming, already buzzing on wine, the scent of sex, sweet and smoky, in the night. 

Eris felt alive and aroused, in need of something he could not place. Soon. The drumming paused as voices hushed. Crackling bonfires and the breeze in ancient treetops were the only sounds. 

Now.

His magic was rising. It snapped beneath his tongue, itched his palms. Tingled at his fingertips, and down his spine. Until there were full sparks, flames along skin, at the tips of his hair, wreathing his hands. It was life and death and sex, to forget one’s before and after—not to become or have been, but to be.

Now. 

As his magic settled, finally, pulsing through his veins, Eris looked up in awe, ready to receive the Mother’s love. And this was why the fireling was taken so completely off guard. For it was at this very moment, while all of Prythian’s eyes were on the heavens, that Hel’s shadows and darkness came.

 *          *          *

Now. It had to be this very moment. When the wards between their courts were unguarded. Azriel commanded the shadows to bank the bonfires with darkness. Fae cried out as the earth quaked, seeming to cleave open, as the Night Court male landed silently in the darkened Forest. 

The shadowsinger reached out and with strong, scarred hands, pulled the fireling, by his narrow waist, to his chest. Mine. 

The golden thread thrummed with pleasure at the contact, at the scent of embers and rain, of the male in his arms. Amber eyes took in hazel.

 “Who are you?” a voice, breathless, but unafraid, asked in the darkness. 

“I am the singer of shadows. I am yours,” Azriel whispered back, his breath against the skin of the male’s white cheek. And then, before the Autumn fae could panic or react, they were passing through folds of space and time. 

 *          *          *

Eris was lost in the darkness, his only anchor a pair of strong arms, a solid chest, the scent of mist and moonlight on cedar.  He was holding his breath, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Open your eyes,” a low voice rumbled, laced with amusement. The Autumn prince did, and what he saw, left him speechless. He clung to the leathers of a male, built like a warrior, with enormous, bat-like wings, spread against the night sky. And this male’s beauty was heartbreaking. His raven curls were perfectly tousled, as if the wind herself had run long fingers through them. Golden brown skin, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes lined with thick lashes. 

Eris pulled away with a jolt, baring his slightly elongated canines. Flames coiled along his hands. “Take me back to my home.” He growled, with all the authority of an Autumn prince.

But the winged male simply smirked and stared. His eyes moved slowly, starting at Eris’s red hair, the flushed tips of his pointed ears, then shifted with lazy dominance, downwards, lingering at molten eyes, a perfect nose, kissed with faint freckles, to the male’s pink, pouting mouth.

Heat coiled low in the fireling’s belly, at the base of his spine, arousal licking through his veins, even as he grew angry. Who was this male, to look at the heir of Autumn, with such possession? The fae prince bared his teeth again, flames growing hotter.

Hazel eyes, unphased, unhurried, continued to move down the prince’s lithe frame. They took in the long column of a pale neck. Broad, graceful shoulders and a narrow waist. Hips that would feel perfect in his hands. 

And then, the winged male, shrouded in shadows, said, “Eris, you are home.” 

I tagged anyone who asked/expressed interest, but please lmk if you ever want on/off my 🏷️

@c-starstuff-man0, @natashachelsea @chunkypossum, @fieldofdaisiies @jir67 @futurehunt @the-darkestminds @hellolordling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @brekkershadowsinger @disney-acotar-hp @moonpatroclus @azrisweek @unanswered-stars @theartofmischief @lilah-asteria

[bit-odd-innit]

"Oh hell yeah." Argyle tips his head down to hang between his knees, clapping reverently and in time as he rises to the next song on Jonathan's mix. "Let's fuckin' goooooooo." Jonathan's nose scrunches around a laugh. "You don't strike me as a John Denver fan." Argyle's arms are up above his head, swaying elegantly in sync with the wind-swept branches above them. Robin is on her feet too, mimicking him, looking like an ancient aunt at a wedding attempting the YMCA. "As far as I'm concerned, dyood," he grabs Robin's wrists and maneuvers her to be somewhere in the neighborhood of the rhythm. "Anyone who's cool with the Muppets? S'cool with me. COUNTRY ROOOOOOADS—" Tonight was meant to be a relaxed night, an evening where the older kids could unwind, but there's an unshakable Finality to it. Jonathan and Argyle are shipping back to California in a few days, and it's a matter of weeks before Robin and Nancy head east for college. Steve's parents at last sold the house (well under asking, his mother loves to remind him) so he's crashing at Eddie and Wayne's Bright Shiny New Ranch for the foreseeable future. Steve's chest sinks. He's never going to be with these people, in this place, ever again.

Beside him, Eddie giggles.

"You amused, Munson?" He asks, rolling his head to the side. They're all more than a little high and more than a little drunk, but Steve and Eddie are the only ones who have fully laid back in the high grass behind the Hopper-Byers home. Steve thinks, briefly, of ticks. The bonfire he and Jonathan cobbled together flares orange, illuminates Eddie's cheekbones. Steve watches his plush pink lips silently mouth the words of the song, eyes closed. Steve's heart clenches. "Big fan of the Muppets, I assume," he says instead of you're everything to me. Eddie's whole face pinches in on itself, caught. "Are you surprised? I'm friends with Henderson, am I not?" Steve's laugh pulls him upright, his fist twisted in Eddie's tee shirt dragging him along for the ride. He's more than a little worried about ticks. Eddie follows him, still giggling, face pushed into Steve's shoulder. Across from them Nancy and Jonathan slow dance. There's something mournful about it; Nancy's hand curved around the back of Jonathan's neck, eyes and jaw hard; Jonathan rubbing his thumb on the small of Nancy's back, eyes watery and set somewhere far in the distance. Nancy's arm flies out and Robin is there at once, curved into her side. Argyle is there too, crushed against Jonathan's back, one hand still wrapped around Robin's wrist.

"Where you from?" Steve asks, feeling as stupid as the question sounds. Eddie squints. "Where d'ya think I'm from, baby?" And ah, God, fuck, shit. Because baby started as a joke. Baby built off their goofy innocuous teasing of darling and sweetheart and my love because they're friends and friends tease, but Eddie called Steve baby and his entire circulatory system collapsed, could only recalibrate by calling Eddie honey, watching his dark eyes go liquid soft, his body melting against him. They're friends. "You're from..." He gestures vaguely. "Not here?" Eddie laughs again, his breath warm against his collarbone.

"I'm from Kentucky," he lets his voice dip into his natural accent and Steve shivers. "I moved here in middle school when Wayne got the job at the factory."

"You miss it?" He tips his head so he mouths the question into Eddie's hair, in the space above his ear. Eddie hums and Steve digs his nails into the underside of his thigh to stop himself from jolting. "I don't remember enough about it to miss it," he says. "But I love this song, and it makes me miss something I don't think I ever had. Does that make sense?" Argyle, who is the closest he's ever been to the East Coast, tips his head back to face the canopy of trees and screams, "WEST VIRGINIAAAAAAAAA—"

Steve leaps to his feet, dragging Eddie with him.

"Dance with me."

Eddie's fingers curve around Steve's. "What about your girl?" "She's fine." Behind them, Jonathan Nancy and Robin kick out the square dance they learned in middle school gym class. Robin is one step behind, dragged along by the elbow Nancy has hooked around her bicep. Argyle watches, nodding and fascinated. Steve pulls Eddie in, chest to chest, hand crawling up to cradle the back of his skull, and murmurs, "take me home..."

He doesn't remember a lot after that. He remembers the thrust of Eddie's body, the soft press of his mouth. He remembers Nancy's squeaky "Oh!", Argyle's affirmative hum, Robin's hyena-like cackle that said he was going to get destroyed tomorrow, and the buzz against his lips. Eddie giggles, pulls him closer. "Take me home," he sings, and Steve thinks, we already are.