#but the inner sole is completely fucked

[handern]

Sending some good thoughts to your poor feet.

thank u 😔😔

I have two pairs of work shoes and they're both completely dead after two years of daily use and so many miles walked doing tours, which does not help my pain

[dwaekkicidal]

Lessons

˚ʚfwb!Bang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Just a regular session of your best friend helping you learn Korean <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, nicknames; ‘honey and good girl,’ pvssy slaps, playful ass&thigh spanking, Chris calls himself Daddy once lol, rough sex, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: max and I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it was soo hot so I wanted to write something for it,,, but then I lost motivation for it for a while😭 anyways hope u enjoy <3

OH and thank you for 700 followers!! (im late so now so ~25 away from 800) :''') I have something planned for if/when I hit 1k hehe, Love u guys :>

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

After you had moved to Korea, you made it your sole goal to be completely fluent in Korean as soon as possible. You knew the basics and some vocabulary that got you through day-to-day encounters, but holding an actual conversation past introductions was rather difficult. So, this is how you found yourself in your current situation. Your best friend and fuck buddy of 2 years giving you weekly Korean lessons.

And this? This was a normal thing between you both. Sitting in his lap practicing while he sits there explaining things and kneading your thighs mindlessly. It was a normal occurrence! The only difference is you usually wore sweats or some sort of bottom that would cover your legs more. Today was one of the hotter days of the week, so you disregarded the extras and opted to only wear one of his shirts, nothing else.

His hands rubbed eagerly up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh like he does with soft pillows. Again, it was normal, but today he seemed to be restless with his movements. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath when he mindlessly squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh rather roughly while he translated a word you couldn’t figure out. “What is up with you today? You’re more touchy-feely than usual.”

“Sorry haha. Had a long day so I’m fidgety.. And you know I can’t resist you in nothing but my shirt.” You only hummed in response. You believed what he said, but you also knew that he wasn’t stupid and that the apology was not for his roughness as much as it was for how riled up he knew you were getting. He was never actually sorry about being physically affectionate with you, but you both knew how you tended to get very horny when his hands were on you so desperately.

“Mmmm.. Let me play with you a little while you read, okay?” You shake your head and push your study items away, pulling a laugh from him when you mumbled out ‘Fuck that, I need you.’

“None of that hahaha. Focus on the reading, honey.” He said, placing a kiss on your cheek before leaning down and biting into your neck. You groaned and leaned back into him, grinding against him in an attempt to make him fold in your favor. He let the first few grinds pass as he left hickeys along your neck, but the second your hands cupped him through his shorts he grabbed your hips to still your movements.

“Hey.“ The commanding tone in his voice caught you off guard and had your hands immediately stop in their tracks. “Stop that. You’re going to finish reading this text and then I’ll fuck you nice and good.”

“It’s not that serious, Chris. It's just a few paragraphs, we can do it after or just skip out this week.. Plus it’s your fault I’m this horny anyways.” The attitude in your voice makes him narrow his eyes, and then he grabs your chin and angles you to look back at him.

“Watch your tone. And I’m not gonna tell you again,” His hand grabbed both of yours and placed them on the table before moving to spread your legs open for him. Then, he finishes his sentence and enunciates each word with a harsh smack to your bare cunt. “Finish. Reading. The. Article.” The last one comes off harder than the others and it pulls a squeal from you, making your hands shoot down and wrap around his wrist while your legs slam shut against his hand. He grabs from your inner knee and hooks your legs over his, keeping you spread for him, and he pulls your book closer again.

You can feel the teasing smile on his face after he places a kiss on your cheek and then speaks against it. “You only have one article left, honey. The quicker you read it, the quicker I can bend you over and fuck you into the table~” You can’t help but whine and nod. Once you look down at the material again, Chris’ hands that were previously rubbing your inner thigh move back to rub along your wet folds. 

Then for what feels like the next hour, but was really just 20 long minutes, you slur out the words in front of you as best as you can. Chris’ left hand swapped between drawing circles into your clit and pinching your nipple, while his right hand shoved fingers against your walls. And every couple of minutes he would swap between kissing your neck to sucking hickeys into your collarbone. However, you weren’t allowed to cum and any time you mispronounced something or took too long to read a word, a stern slap was sent against your clit. As long as you continued to read well, he would pump 3 of his fingers in and out of you.

By the time you’re halfway through the material, your mind is foggy and you’re almost drooling on yourself from the constant edging. By the time you’re on the last sentence, your legs are shaking and you're slumped against him letting out quiet moans. Your neck and collarbone were so red from his incessant suckling, and you were desperate to get this over with. And then, when you finally finished, he stopped all movements to place a soft, congratulatory slap on your thigh and massaged your hips.

“Good girl… Now was that so hard?” With that, he hurriedly clears the desk before helping you stand and then standing himself. The chair you both rested on was kicked backwards and your whole world spun as he suddenly pinned you to the desk. You whined as his hand held a tight grip in your hair and pushed your face into the table. His free hand playfully squeezed and slapped at your ass a few times before you heard his shorts and boxers hit the floor.

You sighed out his name as he teased his tip through your folds, silently pleading with him to hurry it up. “Shhhhhh… ‘Atta girl. You did so well, baby. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”

He finally sunk in and nothing but low, whiny moans left your lips as you clenched around him. His free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it in appreciation while he slowly sunk every inch he had to offer. Once he bottomed out he gave you only a little bit of time before his thrusts started, albeit slowly at first but quickly ramping up due to his own impatience. It doesn’t take long for him to change to an unforgiving and rougher pace, his hand still holding your head against the table.

“Fff-fuck.. Christopherrr-”

“Yeah yeah, baby. Daddy’s got you. ‘M nice and deep, just how you like it right?” You missed the way he smirked when you let out a desperate ‘Uh-huh’ in response, but you could feel the way it encouraged him when his hips slammed against yours with more eagerness. He keeps this pace up for a while until he feels you tighten around him, and then he changes to slow, deep thrusts that make your eyes roll into your skull. 

The hand in your hair slides on top of yours on the desk, intertwining your fingers, and he leans forward to place his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Mmmm keep squeezing me, Honey. Fffuck, juuust like that..”

When you’re tipping over the edge, he places a kiss on your sweaty skin and moans against it. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up just how you like it, okay?” You want to nod, but everything hits you at once so you can only cry out against your desk.

As your orgasm starts to fade into overstimulation, he fixes his posture and focuses on his hip movements. A squeaky moan falls from your lips as he suddenly bottoms out and the hold on your hip tightens. He threw his head back and bit his bottom lip as he came, attempting to muffle his whiney moans. He rides out his orgasm by sometimes pulling out and snapping his hips harshly against yours.

“Fuck… If that’s how we end the studying session from now on, I might consider this payment.” He jokes.

You let out a breathy laugh and he starts to pull out slowly, pushing you into the table as he did so. You take the moment to catch your breath when you realize he’s gone quiet and there’s the light feeling of breath on your thighs. Your head snaps back and you realize he was kneeling in order to watch his cum slide down your folds.

“Hey!” you whine and place a hand on his forehead, pushing his face away only for him to resist, so you use your feet to push him harder. He laughs at your embarrassment and stands up, pulling you to sit up as well and lifting the shirt off of you. He uses it to wipe you down before throwing it into your hamper and grabbing one of his spare shirts from your dresser. He steals a kiss before covering you in the shirt, then drags you to the living room to watch a tv show together.

You two spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching tv and relaxing in each other’s warmth. It’s no surprise when soft snores are heard and you look down to see his sleeping face squished into your chest. You huff out a laugh before you snuggle him closer. Then, your eyes get heavy until they inevitably close, and you fall asleep too.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

[screampied]

soft dom toji eating your untouched cunt for the first time?

❤︎ ໋𓈒 letting toji taste you for the first time

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom! toji, cunnilingus, praise, dirty talk, fingering, mdni.

“are ya nervous, baby?” he hums, stroking a thumb against your thighs.

you inhale a sharp breath, feeling your heart race as he laid between your legs with the smuggest grin tugging against his lips. “about time you asked me.”

“just hurry,” you panted, frantically whined, digging a hand through his strands. toji raises a brow teasingly before planting a kiss on the inner side of your thigh. he ran a finger down your panties and you watched, your legs trembled and yearned for him to just hurry.

toji softly licks a stripe between the pretty pink fabric of your panties before humming. “so impatient,” and then he pinches it, sliding it to the side before staring at your slightly pre-slicked folds. “damn, look at her, she’s so fuckin’ pretty.”

you whined, feeling the warmth of toji’s breath fan against your pussy. he’s really slow with his movements, he doesn’t wanna rush. you instantly shudder once you feel him use two fingers to gingerly spread your folds open. “gonna take my time with you, princess,” and then he leans in to give your sweetened entrance a single kiss. “so lie back ‘n let me eat. ‘m starved.”

you immediately fell in love with toji’s tongue, indeed he was purely messy. your ankle gently brushed against his back and he continued to flick his tongue against your nub.

you were so sensitive, nerves acting rapidly all throughout your body.

toji brings multiple play bites towards your clit before it turns into long sucks.

his eyes were closed, black lashes clinging towards his eyelids. he was incredibly into it. he chuckles, feeling you move your hips against his mouth. you whimpered, thrusting into his mouth.

“well shit, you’re such a silly girl. don’t even know how to act ‘round me,” he teases, using his right thigh to give it a soft squeeze. “baby, ya gotta relaaaax.”

“tojiiii . . ” you moaned, and your panties were still on.

you gasped, feeling him create soft wet kisses near the very crevices of your legs. he moves his tongue all over your thighs, not just solely what was between your legs. “f-fuck, more please.”

toji doesn’t respond, he’s so into it he completely tunes you out . . . as if he’s been waiting forever.

“look at me girl,” he mutters in a raspy tone. you panted chest heaving before you sit up to stare into his eyes.

toji parts his lips briefly before his a small gathering of spit trickles out of his mouth and right into your folds. you throbbed, watching his give you a coy smile before licking his lips. “pretty cunt, so perfect.”

“you’re s-so nasty,” you moaned, just about feeling your legs give out. toji chuckles—siding his tongue against your pussy. he gives it a chaste kiss, a smooch. which turned into numerous of kisses.

“have to be nasty for a pussy this sloppy,” he grumbles, tracing the tip of his tongue all over and around your inner thighs. toji was such a messy eater.

momentarily, your slick starts to run down his chin. you gasp, feeling him bring a soft spank towards your folds.

“ooooh. can see ya throbbing for me,” he whispers, sticking out his tongue to run it between your slit. “i turn you on that bad, huh princess?”

“s-shut up,” you moaned, feeling your heart flutter from his words — he was toying with you. toji always got off from your pleasure.

he makes you stare into his eyes, laying his tongue down flat against your cunt before lapping it up, slurp after slurp to make you squirm.

he was nose deep, gently moving his head from side to side with two rough hands gripped on the sides of your thighs. his thumbs delicately pressed against your skin before you moan, feeling the scar near the side of his lip swipe against your folds.

“f-fuck, toji your scar, tickles..” you whined.

“ohhh, does it, sweetheart?” he hums, sliding his tongue swiftly against your numb.

you whimpered, starting to grind your hips against his face. a low guffaw exits from his mouth before he playfully bites the side of your thigh . . . tiny bite marks sinking into your skin. “looks like someone’s gonna cum soon.”

with your bottom lip quivering, you started to grow more frantic, feeling an unfamiliar feeling stir up inside of you. it felt intense, you licked your lips before glancing up at the ceiling—your voice started to strain a bit once you took a moment to swallow, moaning your entire head off. “t-toji..”

“i know baby, i fuckin’ know,”

he purrs softly, and he leans up close to suck and lick against the outer part of your labia. then the inner part, that spot. it made your ears ring, your toes curl. he was so good with his tongue. you wish you’d have asked him to eat you out sooner.

your breaths start to hitch, gasping once he starts to rub against your clit with two fingers prodding against your entrance—you whined, feeling your legs shake entirely before it happened.

toji’s tongue still flicked against your sensitive vulva before he looks up to see you with the cutest expression — you’re catching your breath before exhaling a low sigh. “toji, t-toji.”

“come here.”

you were still overflowing with emotions from your orgasm, feeling the stickiness between your legs of your own sweetness before you sat up and leaned towards toji. he looks at you with a sly grin before cupping your face.

“ya did good,” he huffs, stroking your cheek awkwardly before green eyes of his trail towards your lips. “. . . now gimme a kiss. i want you to taste.”

you pout, immediately leaning into his touch, bringing your lips to collide against his. toji’s pompous smile remained on his lips as he kissed you—deeply, with immense passion that you moaned right into his mouth.

as your tongue curled against his own, you tasted the flavor of your own slick. it was so filthy. a right hand of toji’s grabs the back of your ass and you hear him groan. he makes you start to grind against him before he spanks you, earning a cute noise from you.

long moments later, he pulls away to stare at you with an intimidating gaze. “you don’t know how good you taste, princess,” and both hands of his are on your face—you stare at him before he slyly smiles, trailing his eyes down towards your current naked body. “but now, i want more than just a taste. i want all of you.”

[shaguro]

hi shantiii can i request choso making reader squirt for the first time? 💖

in which choso makes you squirt for the first time. (fem!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting. choso is insatiable yall.)

choso is completely enamored with you, with every part of you — from the crown of your head down to soles of your feet. so when it comes to choso’s praise, no part of you is excluded. he accepts and cherishes it all.

so of course, your pussy is no exception.

he’s got you laid on your back with your knees smushed on your breasts, the perfect position for him to devour you properly. he pays special attention to your puffy clit, licking it all kitten-like.

“c-cho! ohmygodd.” you moan, nearly choking on your own breath. your legs tremble and shake from your last orgasm, the overstimulation had you dizzy. “i can’t, b-baby. ‘m too sensitive!”

“please,” he begs, and he’s simply relentless, a harsh suck on your swollen nub has you gasping for air, scrambling to claw at his messy hair. “one m-more, pretty. you can give me one more, yeah?”

he peers at you through his long lashes, doe-eyed and pleading. choso looks so pretty like this, his hair so disheveled and his face coated in your sticky slick. it makes your pussy throb, arouses you to no end. so you relent, all the muscles in your body visibly relaxing as you give choso a shaky nod.

“gonna make you feel s’good, i promise.” and he smiles, spreading your folds with his thumbs before his mouth is on your cunt again.

he’s always so messy with it, slurping at your sodden folds and his spit is everywhere, mixing with your juices. all over your inner thighs, trailing down your perineum. his tongue never misses a spot, finding every hidden crevice and you’re all but writhing in his hold.

“taste so good, baby.. can’t get enough of this pussy.” he groans, dipping his tongue into your puckering hole. his nose bumps your clit over and over, making the sweetest moans fall from your lips.

the way he moans into your pussy would make you think you were pleasuring him. but that’s the thing about choso — your pleasure is his pleasure. and your pussy is so sweet, he’d eat you up for every meal of the day.

“f-fuck!” you curse, your back arching as he slips two fingers into your heat and curls them right into your g-spot. your brain’s all fuzzy, clouded by the overwhelming pleasure that only choso can provide. you’re in love with his tongue, in love with the way his fingers stretch you out so nicely.

and that familiar coil building in your tummy again, much faster than last time. only this time, it feels a little different.

“cho, i-im—!” you squeak, your weak voice nearly drowned out by the loud squelching of your pussy as choso continued his ruthless assault. “—gonna, hnng, g-gonna cum.”

“then cum for me, baby.. give it to me, make a mess all over me.” with two last pumps of his fingers, you cry out his name and do just that — clear stream of liquid gushes out, drenching his hand and whole upper body, even the sheets underneath you.

you squirted so much and though he’s surprised by it, choso licked up every drop he could, chortling when you twist your body away from him.

“wow…” choso’s caught completely off-guard. he’d never made you squirt before. he’s wide-eyed as you come down from your intense high, your head sprawled against the pillows as you attempt to catch your breath.

“baby..” he’s kissing your inner thighs, corners of his lips rising. “you think you can do that again?”

all rights reserved to @/hoesluvshanti, do not copy, steal or repost my content without permission.

[xxsabitoxx]

Easy

<Douma x Fem! Reader Drabble>

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, Douma calls the reader “little one” but reader is very much of age don’t get it twisted

A/N: the first of many drabbles! Thank you all for sending so many characters! Douma was the first suggestion I got so naturally I’m just gonna go in order of who was suggested. Next up is Geto :)

Word count: a little under 1.3k

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“How cute…” you ignored him, jaw clenched tight as sweat dripped down your temple. He was large, much larger than you had ever anticipated and that was honestly saying a lot. Even now, after multiple attempts at this, you still couldn’t get used to the size of him.

Truly you shouldn’t have been shocked when he made you crawl into his lap, just to see you struggle to take him. It was like a power trip for him, watching your thighs tremble in effort to not sink further but not pull away from the pain either.

Douma seemed unbothered, lounging comfortably among his piles of fine silks and pillows. Technicolour eyes observing where he disappeared between your shaking thighs. “Are you sure you don’t want help?” It came out in a sigh, his hand pressing to his cheek as he watched you try and sink a little lower.

“Shut…up…” anyone would be crazy to talk to him like that. It would be the last thing they ever said, especially with that tone. Yet, Douma let you talk to him however you wanted. Why? He found it cute.

“You seem to be struggling little one. Trust me, I could make things work a lot faster.” He cooed, pointed nail trailing up your skin, making you jerk in his lap and cry out. You could hardly catch your breath, knowing well that this process would be a lot more pleasurable for you if you just let him take over.

Yet, you were going against your better judgement and attempting to ride him. The stretch at the angle you were in was nearly unbearable, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to get off him nor change your mind.

“Look at you… making a mess.” His laughter was cold, just as cold as the ever present smile on his face. You knew he was right, your own arousal was starting to drip down your inner thighs. “I said…to shut up.” You choked as you forced yourself to take another inch or so of him.

You were a little over half way there, honestly you couldn’t think much last fitting him. Actually moving once you bottomed out was a completely different battle you’d worry about when it got there.

“Remember what we talked about? About biting the hand that feeds you?” You froze, finally allowing your eyes to meet his. “Be careful how you speak to me, little one.” You knew it was all an act, solely so he could do what he did next. It was a simple movement, his hips jerking up so quickly you couldn’t even prepare yourself for it.

A guttural cry echoed in the chamber as you scrambled for something to hold. Your nails found purchase in the fine silk of his red top, the material bunching a bit at his waist from when he took his belt and pants off. “See, how easy was that?”

You couldn’t speak, the wind knocked from your lungs as you tried to will your body to stop trembling. It was only a matter of seconds before the burning stretch turned to pleasure, but it was still enough to have you seeing stars and praying it would pass. “Cat got your tongue, little one?” Douma smiled, readjusting himself to hold your waist and keep you in place.

He would never get tired of feeling you spasming around him, no matter how many times you stuffed yourself full of his cock you still struggled. He adored it. The pain on your face was just too much for him, how could he not fuck you when you looked so cute struggling.

He’d convince you some day to take his offer, stay by his side and be his eternal play thing.

“Start moving, or I’ll do it for you.” He cooed, gently guiding your waist up. You shivered as you felt him begin to slip out of you, sweat dripping off your temple and down to your bare chest. Douma watched it, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “C’mon little one… don’t keep me waiting.” You nodded, no longer having any will to fight him on his requests.

If you at least amused him by attempting he’d eventually take over and fuck you properly. That was enough to have your body aching as you tried to fuck yourself on his length.

You could barely get him half way out before dropping down again, the pain steadily transitioning to throbbing pleasure as you tried to ignore the burning in your thighs. You felt your face warm as an audible squelch began emitting from between your thighs. The pain from the stretch had disappeared all together, your walls trembling each time he bruised your cervix.

“Little one…” he cooed again, hand leaving your waist to grab your chin. “Just ask, I’ll take over.” His eyes narrowed, the promise of relief was sitting right before you. He could see you struggling to swallow your pride. You always struggled, but you always gave in.

“Master… lord…. Please.” You squeaked, not able to process how you were now on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders with his nails digging into your soft skin. Blood pricked the surface, slowly dripping past the indents Douma’s nails were creating. “So stubborn little one. Look how easy it is to get your way when you listen to me.”

You said nothing, body bracing for him to move. He gave you a once over, smiling at the dried blood and various bite marks he had left on your skin. He would forever be torn between consuming you and keeping you forever. He’d have both if he could.

Douma’s hips drew back before snapping forward again, earning a yell in response. Your cries and whimpers fueled him, hips pounding mercilessly into you after only a few seconds of looking for a good rhythm.

Your head fell back against the cushions, nails digging into the silks. Giving in always pissed you off, but it was hard to stay mad when he was able to hit everywhere just right. As always, you were lost in your own pleasure. You figured out long ago that it was impossible to get Douma to look anything but blissed out.

He’d never let you know he was feeling anything, not even a moan or sigh to let you know you were doing good. The only way you figured Douma even enjoyed himself was when he asked you to come back and do it again. Repetition was your only give away that Douma actually enjoyed your presence.

Then again, he was such a charmer it wouldn’t shock you if he did this kind of thing with the other women in his cult. He promised you he didn’t, but every promise from his lips was typically empty. Unless it was the promise of this…

“Coming already?” He teased as you thrashed against the silk materials decorating his chamber. The addicting clench of your walls around him, the warm gush that he desperately wanted to taste. You could only cry out, letting him abuse your cunt through your high and continue even after you came down.

“You’re so easy, little one. Your pussy is so easy to please.” Your eyes squeezed shut, embarrassment filling your frame as he gushed on and on about how cute you were, how much he loved your cunt, how he could never get tired of it. Even if it was empty compliments, you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to them.

Aching for more. Always aching for him.

[querenciasturniolo]

strange ⮕ c.s.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: lots of inner monologue, awkwardness, swearing, corniness, she/her pronouns

summary: request

a/n: this was requested again by the lovely @rainsoakedphoenix!!! this was super fun, and i had the idea to write it from chris’ point of view (still second person pov), so hopefully it works 🤞🏻

(this fic has jokes written in it about “chris having a crush on matt” bc of how prominent the jokes are in the fandom, but it doesn’t solely revolve around those jokes)

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

The comments had been going on for ages, and Chris genuinely didn’t know how everyone found out.

the way chris looks at y/n in todays vlog ?

i never would have guessed the girl chris has been talking about is y/n, but honestly the last few vlogs have really swayed me

okay no, but how has this never occurred to me ? i would have thought she’d end up with matt

Sure, he’d always had a hard time hiding his emotions on his face, but surely the fans didn’t really know he had feelings for you. He’d tried to ignore all of the comments about it, until the edits started rolling in. Every other edit on his for you page was the way he looked at you when you weren’t looking, or the way he’d look away when you turned to face him with pink cheeks.

It was his fault, for letting it slip on a live that he had feelings for someone, and of course the fans started sleuthing. It wasn’t like he’d declared his love for you on the top of a building with a megaphone, but the swiftness in which the questioning comments turned into matter-of-fact statements on any vlog you were in or any photo dump you were included in had Chris realizing he really should learn to control his face.

“Have you seen this one?” Matt asked. Chris looked up from his phone and watched Matt’s screen. It was an edit, a few of the clips from Wednesday’s vlog showing how disgustingly enamored he looked with you. Chris groaned and flopped back on Matt’s bed. “Did you read the caption?” Matt asked, his voice sounding as if he was holding back a laugh.

Chris shook his head and mumbled a reply into the pillow, not even understanding himself as Matt read it out loud. “Chris really went from having a crush on Matt to having a crush on the girl equivalent.” Chris pulled the pillow off of his face and glared, Matt’s laughter spilling out of him as he pulled his phone back towards him.

“Don’t laugh at a joke about me having a crush on you, it’s fucking weird.” Chris grumbled. “And she isn’t even that much like you.”

Matt huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “Tell that to the countless comparison edits of the two of us on my for you page.” He retorted, Chris rolling his eyes and sitting up to throw the pillow in his direction. He stood, Matt glancing up from his phone with a frown. “Where are you going?”

He turned. “The living room, your presence is getting on my nerves.” He said, Matt scoffing and turning his attention back to his phone.

Of course he’d seen the comparison edits, how could he not? You were soft spoken, only occasionally getting loud enough when whatever you were talking about was important to you. You were incredibly observant, and never the first person to point something out. All of the fans had said you and Matt were one in the same, which made sense as to how comfortable Chris was around you almost immediately. But it was still odd that the fans said that, because to Chris, you were just…you, and he couldn’t help but catch feelings for you.

In all reality, it hit him like a truck, and it scared the shit out of him. One day, the four of you were hanging out, and then out of nowhere, he had a headache with how fast the realization hit him. Things were different after that, at least for him. It felt as though everything that came out of his mouth directed at you was awkward, and that you could see right through the facade he held up to keep his feelings from you unknown.

You’d continued to be yourself throughout everything, though it worried him that any time the jokes about Chris’ crush on you were brought up, you’d immediately blush and change the topic. He didn’t want to immediately think that you had feelings for him as well, but he also didn’t want to think you didn’t. He didn’t know what he wanted, truthfully. He wanted everything out in the open, but at the same time he didn’t.

Chris groaned and flopped forward on the couch, his groan being muffled by the couch cushions. He stayed like that for a while, ignoring the buzzing on his phone until he heard Nick walking down the stairs.

“Dude, Y/n’s been at the door for like five minutes, why the fuck didn’t you let her in?” He asked, not giving Chris a chance to answer before he descended the second staircase and opened the door. “Sorry about him, he’s in a mood or something.”

Chris heard your quiet reply and the sound of you and Nick climbing the stairs again. He still hadn’t moved from his position on the couch, even when he felt the cushion dip next to him.

“Everything alright?”

His heart rate spiked at the sound of your voice and he shrugged, though it didn’t work well. You laughed softly, and it felt like every nerve was on high alert. He finally pushed himself up and sat next to you, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eyes. You always had a look on your face, like you knew something was bothering him even though he hadn’t said anything.

“How do you do that?” He asked. You frowned.

“Do what?” You asked.

Chris sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “You always know when something is bugging me.” He said. You chuckled and shook your head, your eyebrows raising.

“Chris, I walked in and you were laying face down on the couch. It’s pretty obvious that something is bothering you.” You said, your voice light and teasing.

He blinked and sighed, putting his head in his hands. “Jesus, that was dumb, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s funny. One thing I can tell is that you want to talk to me about it, unless that’s just me being hopeful.” You said, Chris looking over at you. It was true, you were the only person he wanted to talk to about this. He nodded, and he couldn’t help but relax when you adjusted to face him completely, and just watched him patiently.

It took him longer than he was expecting. He usually could say anything without a problem, whether he messed up his words or not, but this was you. He’d never had a problem talking to you about how he was feeling before, but it was near impossible when it directly applied to you.

You hadn’t pushed him, which he was grateful for. You sat right in front of him and waited patiently, nodding your head in encouragement each time he was about to speak, but not reacting when he didn’t. He groaned and threw his head back.

“Jesus, why is this so hard?” Chris mumbled. You shook your head and rested your hand over his, lightly squeezing it.

“Chris, it’s okay. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” You said, Chris sighing and nodding his head.

He was silent for a few minutes, but eventually met your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Do you wanna, like, go out? On a date?” He asked. You blinked, your face heating up and your heart racing as you processed what he said.

“Like, for real? This isn’t just because of all of the comments?” You asked, Chris smiling shyly and shaking his head.

“Well, the fans were right. I mean, about me liking you.” He said, wringing his hands together in his lap to take attention away from them shaking.

You couldn’t help but smile at him for a moment, looking away when his eyes met yours.

“I didn’t know it was true.” You said, your voice almost a whisper.

Chris glanced over at you, his chest pounding when he realized you hadn’t answered him, and that you couldn’t look at him.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t feel the same. It’s fine, really.” He said, pushing himself off of the couch. He paused when your hand gripped his wrist, looking down to see you grinning up at him. You shook your head and stood, trying your best to keep your eyes on his. It was insane, how someone’s eyes could be so intimidating but so kind and full of love all at once.

“I’d love to, really.” You said, blush traveling from his neck to his face. He cleared his throat and nodded, trying his best to fight off the dorky smile on his face.

“Okay.” He said, his voice quiet.

You chuckled. “Okay.” You repeated awkwardly, Chris’ smile coming in full force. You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his eyes widening slightly when you dropped down to your heels. You smiled at him, entwining your fingers with his.

Your hand fit so well in his, like a puzzle piece. He watched as you looked down at your hands. He ran his thumb over the side of your hand, smiling at the way you looked up at him shyly. He frowned when your eyes lit up and you smiled at him, confusion clouding his face as you lightly bumped his shoulder with yours.

“So that’s why you’ve been acting so strange.”

[eddiesxangel]

GIRLIE IM BACK HI I MISSED UR WRITING SM (and my brain was working)

MUNCHER EDDIE GOING UNDER READERS DESK WHILE SHES DOING SMTH (idk what she's doing... maybe reading or smth 😭) TO 'HELP' HER FOCUS BUT HE RLLY JUST WANTS ATTENTION

-🦇

HI BBY! 💖

You’re sitting at the kitchen table meticulously wrapping your friends baby shower gift when you hear one of the kitchen chairs squeak. It’s startled you because you’re suppose to be alone downstairs.

You feel a hand trail up your shin and you scream but Eddie shushes you letting you know it’s just him.

“Eddie what the fuck are you doing? you gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m gunna help you focus on your wrapping”

“How are you going to do that from down there?you asked, still annoyed he scared you.

“Just trust me” you can hear the smirk in his voice. The cocky SOB.

You choose to unhinge him until you feel his warm hands splay over top of your upper thighs and running up to your ok hips. He suddenly grips them and jerks your body to the edge of the chair so your ass is just hardly in the edge.

“Edward I swear to—“ you cut your self off when you feel his face pressed into your clothed cunt.

Eddie’s head is under your sundress and his hot breath is fanning over your inner thighs as he kisses your soft skin.

“We don’t- oh fuck-have time” you’ve been stressed about this party for weeks. Your. Been the sole planner of the entire party and the fifth completely slipped your mind until today and the party is this afternoon.

“Yes we do, and your schedule says it’s Eddie and y/n time”

“No it doesn’t “ your breath was shaky.

“Sure it dose” later you would find Eddie’s chicken scratch marking up your daily agenda.

“Gotta take care of my girl, she takes care of everything else.” He mumbled as he pulled your cotton panties aside.

You tired so hard to fight it, you’re so stubborn but Eddie knew you needed to relax. He ravaged you like he hadn’t eaten in days, his skilled tongue was so fast as he flicked your clit over and over until that oh so familiar feeling built.

The gift was long forgotten as your weeping pussy dripped on Eddie’s face. Your grip now in his hair instead of folding the wrapping paper. Your dress flipped up and you could see Eddie’s big brown eyes gazing into yours as he tongue ducks your pussy.

“Baby! Fuck I’m so close” you cry. The coil was about to unravel within you. Eddie didn’t let up, he know your body like the back of his hand. He knew he would have you cumming on his tongue in 3…2…1, one last flick and your body contacted into Eddie as you hinged over, pressing his face even further into your pussy.

Eddie pulled back after I king you clean and he sees the smile of the dazed fucked out look on your face.

“There’s my girl”

[teddybeartoji]

彡 A MASSIVE PILE OF GUILT

☆. contains: tooru oikawa x gn!reader; this is called angst i think (with comfort), reader plays volleyball and oikawa comforts them after they lost a match, reader talks badly about themselves:( i'm sorry, they swear they're just really really good friends but they're also just fucking stupid wc: 4k

in the blink of an eye the loud screams and cheers transform into a disgusting mix of muffled noises in your ears. the lights are too bright and you feel like you're stuck to the ground; stuck under hundreds pairs of eyes. you can't move, you can't breathe. your arm stings, a painfully clear reminder of your fuckup.

you should've had it, you saw it coming, you had a plan and yet - here you are, watching the colorfol ball hit the wall of the big arena with a quiet thud!. your eye twitches, locked onto the missed oppurtunity in a form a sphere sit metres away from you and your teammates.

because of you.

like a statue; turned into stone, you stand in your awkward position, unable to comprehend that it's over. that it's really over. it feels like everybody is looking at you, cursing you in their own heads. is this what drowning feels like? even if you could open your mouth to try and save yourself with a big breath of air, the stifling stench of losing would surely just make you choke harder.

a palm slaps onto your shoulder and you don't have to look at the person to know who it is – a dejected captain trying to pick up their loved teammates. you can't look at them; how could you? they're trying to cheer you up while you're the sole reason you lost in the first place. they give you a squeeze, a silent plea for you to snap out of it and you comply, not wanting to humiliate them any more.

you did well!

an arm around your shoulder, you're being dragged away from the court and you taste blood – the result of biting into the soft skin of your inner cheek in order to surpress a cry. the lights are too bright and you just want out.

after the handshakes and the formalities are done, your coach gives you all a pep talk. not that it helps but what else is there to say right now. you eat in almost complete silence; the only sounds in your ears being the chewing and the crying.

you've yet to do that. your lip wobbles and your eyes are red but so far, no tears. but you know you will – it'll be the only thing you'll be doing after you've locked yourself away into your room.

good game!

you feel sick. the food in your mouth is starting to taste like vomit and the water isn't helping either. still, you refuse to stop. refuse to raise your eyes from your table to ask whether you can leave. you will sit there as long as the others do and you won't complain. you will eat the food just like the others do and you won't complain. you don't get to do that.

the hugs feel just as suffocating as the eyes. you've never felt this bad in your whole entire life. you feel bad for thinking that the hugs feel suffocating – they're literally trying to comfort you and you're blatantly refusing it. stupid. stupid. stupid.

everyone has their own things they do after a loss. some like to be alone, some like to go for a run, some like to beat the fuck out of a punch bag and some like to do watch a comedy film with their teammates. it's silly; none of them laugh during it anyway. but it helps. you know it does because you've done it with them – not this time though. and they don't pressure you; they're not stupid, they understand how it feels. you need a moment and they will give it to you.

your captain does sit you down for a second before letting you go though, calmly telling you how it wasn't your fault and how you'll get it next time. and it sucks. it sucks that you don't hear it... it sucks that nothing will make this feeling go away. you know it and your captain knows it.

their warm hand resting on your back does soothe the shivers that have been tormenting you ever since you lost the ball. and for the first time since that moment, you crane your neck, raising your heavy head to meet their eyes and now you do feel like crying. the sadness is there, but so is the same warmth, the same adoration one has for their loved ones. nobody is upset with you, nobody blames you. their hand rises from your back and goes up to ruffle your hair as you let your head fall against their chest. "you're okay."

they hold you close as your tears soak their shirt. you hear a loud sigh and you know they're holding back theirs. the shivers are back and you hiccup out a broken i'm sorry, which makes the captain pull away immediately and grab your shoulders.

"don't. it wasn't your fault. it wasn't. you can cry as much as you want but that? you're not allowed to do that." there's a certain determination in their glassy eyes and you have no other choice but to weakly nod your head before letting it fall again.

"by the way, i saw you not eat properly, so i'm keeping an extra eye on you tomorrow morning, okay?" they poke your cheek and you're thankful. "i'm gonna watch the movie with the others but i'm keeping my phone close by, so if you want company at any time, just let me know."

you raise your head back up, desperate to show your appreciation for them and nod again, cracking the world's smallest and saddest smile and they ruffle your hair again before standing up. "you're okay."

they close the door behind them and you take a minute to compose yourself. you can't seem to stop your hands from shaking though and it makes you angry. your now empty room is too quiet and your own reflection in the window is taunting you with an ugly expression. is that really how you look like right now?

you don't wanna know and you don't want to keep looking at it either. so you grab your hoodie and your wallet and make your way to the lobby of the hotel. maybe the reflection in the vending machine won't be so mean.

and it isn't. it's not mean at all. it's the exact opposite actually. from the fact that it's staring at you with rather soft eyes to the fact that it's not your own reflection.

"good game, right?" you scare yourself with your own voice – already so harsh and raspy. it comes out mean and you wince. you tear your eyes from his, focusing on the sweet drink that's locked behind the glass instead.

oikawa is never this quiet and it makes you want to hit him. make a joke. just do it. just do it already. but he doesn't. his steps are quiet as he goes to lean on the vending machine. he's nothing if not observant; he sees your shaky hands pressing the buttons with so much effort; how the lips that are usually pulled into a beautiful grin he loves so much are now wobbling, ready to spill all of your sorrows. your clenched jaw as you try to avoid his gaze for whatever reason.

please, look at me.

the vending machine dings as the mechanics push your drink to you. his eyes are unforgiving and you know he means well. you know he's not gonna make fun of you, he's not gonna tease you – not now. but you still feel ashamed, whether he says the joke or not; the joke has already been made and it's right here, standing in front of a stupid pink vending machine.

your head shakes on it's own, casting shame on yourself on it's own. the drink falls with a loud thud! but before you can kneel down to get it, a hand on your wrist stops you.

his hand is so warm and it's unusual, considering he tends to be cold almost always. he doesn't push you and let's you take a deep breath before you raise your eyes to his.

if his heart wasn't shattered before, it sure is now. your eyes are red and glassy, but mostly tired, so tired. there's no glint in them, dull and sad. his hand slips from your wrist to your palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. "you did well."

your head falls back as you choke out a broken laugh. "oh, fuck off. i don't wanna fucking hear that. it makes me sick." staring at the ceiling, you shake your head again as if to rid of the words from your mind.

oikawa feels useless. he's been in your situation and yet, he can't think of anything good to say. he remembers how much he hated whenever people said that to him after their loss to karosuno. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat; everything he comes up with just makes him feel even more sick. he wants to cry because he doesn't know how to comfort you. how to make it all better.

"do you want me to stay with you?"

that's the best he can come up with. maybe just his presence will be enough when his words clearly aren't. but when you shake your head again, his heart sinks.

"that's alright. let's uh– ... tomorrow, yeah?" bringing your eyes down from the ceiling, you try to give him a reassuring smile that says i'm fine but it obviously doesn't work. you see the hurt in his eyes and you just feel bad. you feel bad for everything. you're upsetting people even off the court. you just can't help it can you?

"i'm good. i just need to be alone right now." you try again, squeezing his hand. his mouth opens but another voice cuts him off.

"oikawa!"

from around the corners emerges an angry looking iwaizumi. "here you fucking are. coach said it's bed time—"

when his eyes travel from his troublesome best friend over to yours, he swallows his words in an instant. you see the remorse wash over his face and you kind of want to laugh. it's all too funny in a fucked up way. "sorry for interrupting. hey, that was a really goo—"

good game!

he stops himself. fuck. what do you say in this situation?

"good game, i know. maybe next time it'll be a great one, hm?" the bitterness just oozes out of you without your consent, making iwaizumi wince. you feel bad.

pulling your hand from oikawa's, you kneel down to finally grab your nearly forgotten drink. "it's okay, really. i know what you mean."

another weak smile. a pathetic one. "see you at breakfast, yeah?"

oikawa shoving iwaizumi is the last thing you see as you're making your way back to your room. your hands still haven't stopped shaking and opening the door is so fucking hard. the key card slips from between your fingers—

breathe... in...

and out...

you kneel down and pick it up in slow motion as you're tunnel visioning on just getting inside the room. you hear the click! and you burst in, slamming the door shut. the ugly reflection is back and it's laughing at you and you can't do it anymore. your knees buckle from under you, hitting the soft carpeted floor as you weep. hunched over, you just look like a big pile of guilt.

clutching at your heart through your shirt, you cry and you cry, taking in raggedy breaths just to let out pathetic little sounds. everything hurts – your knees, your arms, your head, your eyes, your fingers, your legs, your inner cheek. you pretty much crawl to the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues before plopping right back down onto the floor. your nose hurts, too.

for almost an hour – you don't move from your spot, rooted and rotting into the carpet. it's pathetic. you think about how the others are watching the movie, shedding tears quietly but together, nonetheless. sick of your own actions, you push yourself up and change your clothes. you even manage to drink some water and wash your face in this half-alive state of being. a+ for effort, huh?

you bury yourself under the blanket, wishing the bed would swallow you whole instead. the tears have returned and you feel the pillow getting wetter and wetter by the second. you don't have it in you to grab another tissue though, letting the feeling of the soaked material remind you of your fuckup.

a floor and a few rooms away, oikawa can't stop pacing around. "but they said they didn't want me to go with them...."

"have you ever considered that people lie, idiot?" a tired iwaizumi replies from underneath his blanket on the bed. "especially in a situation like this. it's not like you were any better, you know."

oikawa just glares at him, although it's very hard for iwaizumi to take him seriously when he's wearing his matching plaid pj set. "but what if they get upset that i didn't listen to them?"

"but don't you wanna go and comfort them?" iwaizumi questions harshly. "don't you wanna be there for them? is your fear of overstepping more important than their well-being right now?"

oikawa thinks of your tired, sad eyes and his fingers twitch. "no."

"obviously, dick. go on, then. you have to be back for breakfast though or i'll punch you." iwaizumi states before turning away from his friend and disappearing completely under the blanket.

"you're so mean, iwa... can you not threathen to punch me every two seconds? i'm trying to be so good." oikawa mutters with a pout, grabbing his phone and his hoodie, ready to be your knight in shining armor. knight in plaid pyjamas more like.

"just go already." his friend grumbles and oikawa gifts him a small bye-bye as he's already halfway out the door. the next thing he knows, he's sprinting through the hallways, thanking himself in his head for making you tell him your room number the second he saw you this morning. he doesn't even take the elevator, instead taking triple steps up the stairs. he's also thanking himself for becoming an athlete.

knock! knock! knock!

dismissing that as just a noise from the room next door, you continue your sniffling but when the knocks repeat in a faster manner, you figure one of your teammates had forgotten their key card. so, ever so slowly you push yourself from the comfort of your bed and head over to the door while trying to wipe the tears from your eyes as to look at least a little bit more composed. you're even ready to crack a joke about them losing the card, desperate to disctract the person behind the door from yourself.

but it's not any of your teammates, nor is it your manager of your coach.

it's your oikawa instead – eyes wide open and slightly panting. "you said you don't want me here but i– fuck, how many steps can be between one floor..." he clutches his hand over his chest, the stupid comment slipping out all on its own.

for a millisecond, for a fraction of time, the corners of your lips turn upward but they fall just as fast back down, leaving you both just standing there, staring at each other.

your eyes look way worse now; way more red, way more tired, way more sad, way more dull than a mere hour ago. he should've come here sooner and he imagines iwaizumi slapping the back of his head for his mistake.

"you said you wanna be alone but i don't care."

his blunt statement catches you a little off-guard, your eyebrows furrowing but oikawa just takes it as a green light. if you didn't want him there, surely you'd tell him that right away but you've been standing here with him for a almost half a minute and nothing.

he takes a step, closing the distance between the two of you. he pushes his glasses up on his nose and fiddles with his own fingers and it's weird again. he's nervous. but this isn't about him – it's about you. whatever he's feeling right now is nothing compared to what you're feeling and he just wants to be here for you.

for a second time today, he watches your bottom lip wobble and your chest rise as you take short sharp breaths. and for a second time today, a pair of eyes feel actually comforting. he's not trying to burn you, he's not trying to take back time and alter your actions. he's merely observing instead of dissecting. he's ready to catch you when you fall.

and you do. it's hard not to when he's standing in front of you and looking at you so fondly. your head falls against his strong chest, hands tucked between your bodies as his firmly wrap around you. he takes another step inside and closes the door behind him with his foot.

he listens to you cry into him, he feels your tears on his shirt and through it, on his skin. your hands grasp onto the material, bunching it up in your fists and he just holds you tighter against him.

"you're gonna win next time, i promise" he murmurs.

but when you just sob out a but i wanted to win this time, his heart aches so bad he thinks he's going to die.

oikawa curses at himself for walking right into that one and this time he swears he feels iwaizumi slap the back of his head for real. but he has no time to pity his poor choice of words when he feels your hands clutching at him just where his heart is.

he whispers a quiet i know and you sniffle again. he starts drawing soothing circles onto your back with his palm and he feels so warm. releasing his shirt from your hold, you snake your hands around his body instead, burrowing your face even more into his chest and you faintly hear him coo. it's the first time ever that he's done it in a genuine way and it's the first time you haven't felt the need to punch him for it.

his hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place as he gently sways the both of you from side to side. "i got you."

after some time, he feels you going slack against him and decides to guide you to the bed. he climbs in with you and safely tucks you into the crook of his neck and lets you cry some more as he whispers it's okay against your temple. he just hopes that he's actually helping, that his words actually have an effect. god, he hopes he's making it at least a bit better for you.

he is. he's doing more than he could ever imagine. the thick goo of guilt and shame seems to be draining out of you when you feel his lips brush against your skin. he just might be washing the it off of you with his quiet praise. his words don't sound condescending nor do they sound fake. he means it when he says that you really did do well.

the tears have dried by now and oikawa can feel your eyelashes fluttering against his neck. the long tiring day is finally catching up to you as your breathing slows. he rests his head on top of yours and presses your body indifinitely closer to his. the tips of his fingers dance across your skin, drawing little circles and hearts as he soaks in the sight of you relaxing against him under the moonlight.

"did..."

your meek voice makes him crane his neck back so he can look at you better, ready to hear out whatever complaint you have, ready to comply to whatever request you have.

"did iwaizumi send you?"

...

"WHAT?" it comes out way louder and in a way higher pitch than he'd intended it to. he immediately clears his throat but his eyebrows are still furrowed. "i wanted to come here, why would you say that..."

he still can't see your face clearly from this angle but the way your body moves, is telling him that this isn't you crying anymore. this is you laughing.

"are you– are you fucking laughing at me right now?" he questions, trying to pry you from his neck to confirm his suspicion. and he's fucking right. when you finally unlatch yourself from his body and roll onto your back, you have the tiniest, smallest smile on your lips and oikawa's mouth falls slack. "i wanted to come! i– i'm a good friend!"

it shouldn't be this funny. it really shouldn't because he is a good friend, isn't he? he's here now, holding you, comforting you; he came to you and you're now making fun of him. but you can't help it, the thought of iwaizumi "lecturing" him is silly in this moment. not that you doubt that he came here only because of that, of course. but knowing him, you just think he probably needed a push to actually do it.

oikawa holds himself up above you, observing the small freckles that adorn your face. your eyes are still red and still tired but... the small little glint is back. the same one that's always there when you make fun of him. or when you laugh.

"i literally ran here and this is how you treat me?"

"you're telling me it took you an hour to run up the stairs? i thought you were a volleyball player, shouldn't your stamina be better–" you poke at his chest (right where his heart is) and he lets out a very loud and a very dramatic gasp. "or did your boyfriend have to convince you to come over and console me?"

oikawa's lips tilt into a smirk, happy to hear you barking at him at last. "first of all, don't ever call him my boyfriend ever again–" he situates himself next to you, so his both hands are free. you should've seen this coming, too. "and second of all, you really oughta treat me better."

before you can taunt him with a good old "or what?", his hands are tickling your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as laughter bubbles up from your throat. you try to fight him off, hands clutching onto his in order to stop his torment but to no avail.

"i am... trying... to be.... a good... friend... and this is... what i get... huh..." he rasps as he continues soaking in the sound of your laughter.

"you're.... always... in it for something... that's not... a... real friend... tooru..." you breathe back with a grin and he stops. he doesn't take his hands off of you though, just resting them on your waist.

"you're spending way too much time with iwaizumi, you're both just so mean to me." he's pouting. oikawa is sitting back on his legs and he's actually pouting.

"am i gonna have to console you now?"

"yes." he deadpans.

...

you push yourself up onto your elbow and lean up to boop his nose. "you're stupid."

"no, you're stupid." he grins back.

he has his ways of getting you out of a slump, he always has. him sitting here on your tiny little bed, pouting and laughing is only merely of them. you couldn't wish for a better friend. his hands feel so warm on you and you're so grateful. sitting up, you slap your hands on his shoulders (which of course, makes him wince in a very over the top way). "thanks for coming, tooru."

he rolls his eyes. "pffft."

...

pfft?

"excuse me?" you glare at him and he decides that you and iwaizumi can never hang out ever again.

"i– i meant– yeah, of course. anything for you." he stutters out as you keep glaring at him. he then leans in closer, so much so that your noses are almost touching. "i'm really proud of you, you know."

heat crawls up from your neck and you feel the tips of your ears warm up, overwhelmed by the sudden genuine praise. but you can't let him have the upper hand. not now, not ever. he'll never let you live it down.

"your breath stinks, you know."

his eyes close with another incredibly dramatic sigh as he rests his forehead against yours but while doing so, he takes notice of your hot skin and the way you giggle, and translates it into your language –

thank you.

[sehtoast]

His Place is in Lace (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+ | sex toys, gender neutral reader, sublander, lingerie, no hands, x-ray vision, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, panties as a gag, light comeplay | Fic Directory

original request

Saying he was like putty in your hands was a fairly humble brag at this point.  In truth, he was all yours– fully and completely yours. You could do pretty much whatever you wanted to him, whenever you wanted, and he would thrive for the sole fact he had your attention.

It was practically all he ever wanted.  Homelander had been so desperate for even a shred of your attention in the beginning that he sought it out in all the wrong ways.  Picking on you, intimidating you, generally indulging that darker half of his mind and allowing him to run the show.  But you wore him down.  You were always so damn nice to him even when he tried everything to get under your skin. And, sometimes… 

Sometimes you would put him in his place.

Maybe that’s what made him like doing it so much.  Maybe it’s why he caved and realized you were the one for him– all he’d ever wanted wrapped up in one precious package that he would never get enough of.  Even with your undying devotion and love, he still couldn’t fucking get enough of you.  He had to be the center of your attention and he’d go to any lengths to get there.

Just like now.

He let you tie him up, promised he’d be a good boy and wouldn’t break those useless binds.  Let you dress him up in white lace panties and a see through bra. Let you position a vibrating wand just over the tip of his leaking cock and work a plug into his ass and oh how he wishes you would touch him.  He wishes so badly that you’d do more than perch on the edge of the bed and watch him– but oh how he loved to know you were staring .  Smirking and smiling, chuckling at his little gasps and wanton moans.  All the times you’d lick your lips at every jump and twitch of his cock…

But he had your attention, so he’d be good.  Would press his wrists closer together instead of tugging them apart, ever so careful not to break your rules.  He’d raise his hips into the air to seek more of that sensation, whimpering every time he failed to find more pressure, more speed, more anything.

He’d leaked through the fabric long ago and the red tip of his cock was clear as day beneath the pulsating head of the toy.  Each little bead of precum soaked more and more of the garment, each twitch a desperate declaration that he needed release.  It was only when he started begging with tears streaming down his face that you upped the speed of the toy.

He arches and damn near floats off the bed, head pressed back into the pillow as he fights with every ounce of his wavering control to not break the silky ropes at his wrists.  Whimpers fall from his mouth, but he can’t possibly care how pathetic he is with his head so fucking clouded.  His hips undulate with attempts to fuck against the toy and he feels a hot jolt of pleasure shoot straight down to his cock at your little giggle of amusement.

“You’re cute like this,” you tell him.  You smooth a hand over his inner thigh and he splays himself wide for you, begging, praying that you’ll touch him.  You drag your nails along the softness of his flesh and he shivers and whines.  You can see the way he trembles from such a small act and the swell of pride goes right to your head.  You decide to experiment.

“Look at you,” you say, voice low and sultry.  “Look how soaked you are…”

Just as you predicted, his cock twitches at your words.  You move as though you’re going to grasp him, but you turn the toy off instead.  An extra pitiful whine escapes his mouth.

“You’re so wet, I can see you through those adorable little panties of yours.”  You glide your thumb under the lace of the waistband and he keens.  You pull the fabric back just enough to reveal the head, smirking like the cat that got the cream when little strings of come follow the garment.  You let it snap back into place, covering the tip of him all over again.

“You’re such a whore.” You declare.  “God, even your nipples are poking through your bra, baby.  You’re really pent up, huh?”

He nods furiously, pressing his wrists together again.  All he wants is to snap those stupid ties and pounce you like a rabid fucking animal.  He’s painfully close…

A cold breath wafts over his left bud and he mewls.  More, more, more, more, more.

“Such a pretty boy, Johnny…” You lean down to whisper into the shell of his ear.  You don’t touch him with anything more than the occasional breath blown against his neck.  “So pretty… I could eat you right up.  I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He gives a choked ‘uh-huh’ noise that was far more of a whine than anything else.  His hips rise again.

“I bet you’d love it if I touched you.  If I let you feel me .”

His eyes roll back and goosebumps erupt all over his body.  His breathing hastens as the coil in his core grows impossibly tighter with every word, every little breath of yours against his flesh.

“Imagine it… How soft and warm my hand would be on that pretty little cock of yours.”  You fan a hot breath at the shell of his ear.  “Or, maybe my mouth?  All hot and wet for you.  Dragging my tongue up and down your cock…  I bet you’d like to grab me by the hair and force me to choke on it, but you wouldn’t do that, would you?  You’re a good boy, right?”

He bites his lip hard and his thighs quake and tremble and he’s so fucking close.   He imagines everything you say and each little fantasy rocks him to his core.

“What if I let you fuck me?  Think you could even make it past the tip without blowing a load into me?”  You watch with a wide grin as his chest heaves and his cock twitches against its wet confines.  He’s damn near about to burst.  “I think…” You tease a faint nibble at his earlobe and he gives a particularly harsh thrust upward.  “I think you’d love to fuck your come deep inside me.  Push in as far as you can and claim me from the inside out. That you–”

A howling moan breaks you from your teasing and you watch in pure satisfaction as he fucks up into the air, hips raised at an angle so sharp that the come that didn’t spurt through his panties leaks onto his belly.  His cries are strangled against a breath caught in his throat and you’re there to talk him through the whole way.

“That’s it, Johnny… Cream your panties like the little slut you are.”

Just as he’s coming down from it, right when you think he’d be most sensitive, you press the button on the wand and start it up all over again, watching smugly as he’s jarred out of his orgasmic haze.

“Gah!  Fuck!”   He shouts loudly, binds creaking.

You click your tongue at him in disapproval.  

“Ah, ah, ah… Don’t you dare break those.” You chide.  “You’ll be a very, very bad boy if you do.  And then I won’t be able to give you what you want.”  

You pet his hair while he fights to settle himself down and submit to his place once more.  A finger finds one of his barely-clothed nipples and you circle the bud with a feather light pressure.  It’s still enough to rip a wavering moan out of his mouth.

“Needy boy,” you coo.  “You look so pretty in this getup.  I’d say Christmas came early, but,” you slip your fingers through the mess on his belly, bringing your digits up to smear his come on his lower lip. “Looks like you came even faster.”

His body quakes with little tremors, shivers that send a wave of smug satisfaction right to your head.  His helpless little moans spur you to shift the pulsating head of the toy to his sack, holding it there as he squirms and whines.  You tilt it against the base of his plug to spread the sensation to his ass and his head rises from the bed for just a fraction of a second in a blissful shock.

You toy with him for another hour or so before you decide you’ve had your fun.  He’d completely soaked his panties, cock perfectly visible through the transparent white fabric.  And Homelander?  He was nearly incoherent.  Babbling on and on about how badly he needed this or how good that felt, pleading and begging in between your good graces for any extra attention you might give to his aching shaft.

Fifteen orgasms milked from his pretty cock and you’d only just put your hands on him.  He nearly shrieks when your palms come down against the sides of his abdomen, smoothing back and forth between his perky nipples and his wet hip bones. You lift his bra just enough to expose his nipples and dive in, suckling hard on one and rolling the other between your fingers.

He mewls and melts, falling so far into an intoxicated swirl of lust and you that he fails to feel you unhook his binds.  He’s free to move his hands, but he doesn’t.

Your good boy knows his place.

You roll your hips against his drenched cock and he’s nothing but helpless, pathetic sounds below you.  If you thought he was like putty in your hands before , he was practically fucking butter now.

“Please, please, please…” He whimpers for the umpteenth time.  You’re ready and dripping for him.  He had to watch you get that way, had to see you dangle all that he wanted and more in front of him like a fucking treat and know he was only allowed to watch you touch yourself.

When you slide off and tug his panties down his legs, he’s almost hopeful that you’re going to finally touch him, that your hand is going to wrap around his cock or, better yet, your mouth, and he’s so fucking excited .  

“Open.”  You order.  You watch the look of realization settle in just before you stuff the garment in his mouth, grinning smug and satisfied as he’s made to taste himself.

“Bet it’s good,” you say as you press your palm over his mouth.  “You always taste good.”  You can feel his cock twitch against your thigh.  You reach down to grasp him and he arches from the bed, wrists pushing against each other.  His moans are muffled, but you can tell he’s already close again.

“You’re not gonna come,” you tell him.  “You’re gonna wait until I give you permission.  And when I do,” you grasp his jaw with your free hand to direct his gaze, “you’re gonna use those special eyes and look inside of me… You’re gonna watch every drop fill me up and you’re going to keep your eyes open the whole time.  Understand?”

When he simply stares at you with those wide, excited blues, you pat the side of his face to prompt a nod.  As soon as he does, you sink down onto him.

He clamps down on the panties in his mouth, squeezing more of his release onto his tongue as he does everything in his power to stop from coming right then and there.  He does as you told him.  He keeps his eyes open the whole time, shaking his head from side to side to disguise the desperate tears that have begun to spill.  His hips stutter to move but you slow when they do, so he fights himself over that, too.

It takes everything he has not to break those binds and touch you.  Oh how he fucking needs to touch you– needs to fuck you.

With your hands around his neck, you finally give him permission, leaning back so he could get his view.  You time it just right, to the exact second you begin to peak from touching yourself and riding him, your head becoming lightweight and body twitching through the quaking waves of your orgasm.

And Homelander?

He gnashes his teeth against the fabric as he comes undone, crimson eyes forced as wide as possible while he loses that last shred of control and thrusts upward.  He watches each spurt fill you, sees how it lines your walls and pushes deeper with each drive of his throbbing cock.  It floods you, seeps into every warm inch of your heat until there’s nowhere left to go but back down his cock.

The mere sight has his eyes rolling back.  He twitches beneath you, utterly spent, used, and balls deep in bliss.  Weak, breathy moans muffle against the fabric, eventually spilling free when you slip it from his mouth to kiss him.

You tell him how good he is.  That he was so perfect for you.  He did everything you wanted and more.  Just look at him, unbound, still holding his wrists together because he knows the rules.  You press kisses to his cheeks, to his forehead, to the tip of his nose and then his lips.  You caress him and pet through his hair, sweet nothings dripping from your tongue.

“That’s it, sweetheart.  You did such a good job.” You coo.  “I love you so, so much.”

He feels so free when you take him apart.  Like every shred of his being is laid bare before you and you’ve opted to hold each piece with love and care.  He tells you that he loves you too, but it falls out more as a slurred combination of the words.  He’s still buried inside of you, still warm and snug right where he wants to be– where he wants to stay.

“So,” you chuckle, all snuggled up on top of him.  “How badly am I in for it the next time around?”  You know damn well he’s going to repay you tenfold for this.  You’ll be surprised if you can even walk afterward.

“Mhm,” he hums.  His mind and body are spent and all he wants now is to drift off in your embrace.

“‘Mhm’ is a pretty strong answer, babe.” You’re proud of your good work.  You settle against him without letting his softening cock slip free.  

With a press of your lips to his temple, you bid him sweet dreams. You promise him safety and comfort while he rests and he believes your words more than he believes the sun will rise tomorrow.

He knows you’ll be there.

[neteyamyawne]

🦋 — Blindfolded

✧ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

MDNI

❈ Warnings : Blindfolded, Fingering (F receiving), pet names (cupcakes, kitten etc), sensory play, dom!sub dynamic, daddy/babygirl play, more sensual smutt with daddy Quaritch.

❈ Word count : 650+ proof read.

❈ Note : all my Kinktober fics will come out randomly because of my current situation irl so please bare with me, i still want to complete this.

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ

He loves it when your small human body sits snugly between his long legs, his hands tracing up your arms, leaving goosebumps behind, hot breaths fanning over your nape, the silk blindfolds on your eyes, tied fit at the back of your head, your nervous rise and fall of your chest is pretty noticeable to him.

“Nervous, cupcake?” he whispers right in your ear, nipping at the earlobe.

Your breathy gasp fuels his urge to take this further, head tilted to the side he whispered, solely relying on your hearing and touch “No- no…” your denial about nervousness was certainly a big fat lie and he knew that.

One of his huge arms snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his warm chest, earning quite a yelp from you at the sudden movement “don’t lie to me kitten, don’t you trust your colonel?”

He crooned in your neck, His chuckle against your neck making your skin tingle, your smaller hands grasping onto his arms, though you were free to move but one wrong step and it’ll lead to something you never expected.

You felt the hem of your silk gown being lifted, his warm calloused hand running up your spine, making you gasp “co- colonel-!”

Your warning didn’t feel much like it, his hand drifting down to your thigh, feather-light touches on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver, leaning back on his chest with a soft moan.

“You like it, cupcake?” his voice falling over you, this was the most helpless position you’ve felt, with nothing but darkness in front of your eyes, his rough hands sliding onto your clothed cunt, cupping his palm over your heat.

Your breathing stuttered, this was a new sensation to you… You’ve been fucked by him multiple times, yes, but this was different, before you knew or at least anticipated his movements now you’re completely at his mercy, he held your reigns, that hand around your waist went upwards to cup the swell of your breast, rolling the nub between his thumb and Pointer making you suck a breath.

His lips moved from your neck, going to your ear, kissing the shell of it before his hand stopped their work on your body and brought your wrists together behind your back, holding them together before bending you over your knees, your cheek flush against the soft mattress with your whines of protest.

“What was that kitten? You need to speak up for daddy” He whispered, keeping his voice low to keep his little game going, pressing the tent in his cargos to the plush of your silk covered ass, your groan of longing muffled as he rolled his hips against your ass cheeks, his other hand tearing the barrier between his fingers and your dripping cunt, the new lacy panties, ruined, just like many others.

The long digits of his hand circled your eager hole that clamped around nothing, your body trembling in anticipation, thighs shaking at the blindfolded bliss, the hold your wrists tightening as he heard your desperate whimpers.

“Colonel… pha- please” your choked up whine made him chuckle, his fingers plunging in without a warning, pressing your face into the mattress, the loss of sight only making it surreal, “ohh Kitten… you're such a slut, but remember, cupcakes, only f’me” he growled scissoring your tight hole with skilled fingers until your juices was covering the bedsheet and you were a whining mess.

He leaned over your back, breath fanning over your neck as he nibbled on your earlobe, thumb rubbing frantic circles on your puffy clit as he curled his fingers deliciously, hitting the sweet spot and dragging that moan out of you like cat in heat as he smirked down at you, pressing your wrists down and making you arch your back “Tsk tsk kitten, hold your position, there's more to come, are you ready for it, cupcakes?”

Yawne : @pandoraslxna, @taylormarieee, @persefolli, @eyweveng, @deadgirlrin, @eyrina-avatar, @avatarsslut, @myloveforyouisforever, @neteyamsoare, @bobthe-turmpetman29, @nonniesworld, @zanabelle99, @thehoneymushroomhealer, @neteyamgfs, @xylianasblog, @solstealer, @justcaptiannoodles.

©Neteyamyawne2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[entropyvoid]

So anyway my hot take about the bit where Sunday is taking you on a guided tour through a dramatic play about the history of Penacony is that the confusion of him narrating over the story so you can’t parse what’s goin on is that it’s actually an EXCELLENT creative choice in interactive storytelling actually, because that whole scene isn’t really about Penacony’s past, present, or future, it’s about cult programming. Sunday’s goal is not for you to witness a dramatization of Penacony’s history and form your own thoughts and opinions about it, his goal is a last ditch effort to get you to share HIS specific perspective.

He talks over the story to tell you what’s happening, giving his conclusions from the get-go and sometimes even saying things that seem to directly contradict what he’s speaking over, but by the time you can even parse it, it’s gone and you’re left with little to do but move on. It’s overwhelming and makes it very difficult to form a coherent thought about it, much less a proper refutation to his arguments. It is a tactic intended to melt your brain and repeatedly hit it with a hammer of his view - the only reasonable view. So reasonable that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him that someone might have an opposing interpretation that’s logical, (more on this later,) he’s not open to new ideas, he is so completely and utterly set in his philosophy that he takes a chance in trying to hold your hand through it and explain it to you because he believes that if he just talks you through it, you’ll see the light. He is trying to convert others into to accepting the Order. Inducing mental exhaustion combined with repeating a specific philosophy, backed with an narrative to make it feel credible over and over again until your brain is too fried to do anything but accept if is a pretty common brainwashing tactic. For the devs to actually manage to induce that direct feeling in the players within the safety of fiction is actually a really impressive feat.

And he probably isn’t even really taking the specific approach he does consciously, rather, he is likely repeating some of the tactics that Gopher Wood put him through. Gopher, probably the closest thing Sunday had to a parental figure after his mother’s death, is an entity with no physical form that’s practically nigh omniscient and omnipresent within the dreamscape, is able to take over the bodies of anyone within the Oak family (possibly without their knowledge or without them remembering it?) and has been looking after Sunday from a young age. Firstly, we see them employing very similar (conversational? Argumentative?) styles. From the scene about the rehabilitated bird, we see Gopher giving a very scientific but ultimately leading explanation of natural selection (and the inherent cruelty of nature that Sunday heavily internalizes and repeats further down the line,) then poses a question that seems very open: what do you want to do about it? What do you want to do with this fucked up little fledgling that can’t fly? In his inner world, Sunday presents you with this, and several other personal experiences intended to lead you to a particular answer, then calmly asks you what decision you would’ve made in his place, in a way very reminiscent of how Gopher himself spoke to Sunday and Robin.

Sunday’s answer, to build a cage for the bird so it could live”no matter what,” happens to have aligned pretty well with the philosophies of the Order, and the quick unfortunate end the bird met when it was later released solidified his desire to protect via control, and proved to be a very formative experience for him. I think it’s highly plausible that this an early illustration of Sunday’s cult grooming already taking root, or at the very least, of Gopher fishing for a kid who’s open and susceptible to it. Gopher, seemingly being Sunday’s sole direct conspirator, is almost certainly the one who guided him on the path of worshipping the Order, while also making Sunday feel like it was his idea.

We don’t see too much in the way of interactions between Gopher and Sunday beyond that, so we’ll have to fill in the gaps - but Gopher is shown to be constantly watching over the schemes Sunday is involved in via possession of birds long before we actually learn who he is. He is always there, always watching, he can instantly overtake the will of others (so long as they’re in the Oak family - but that’s abt 1/5th of Penacony’s population and the group Sunday is a part of and thus most surrounded by,) and despite seeming very calm and reasonable, he’s clearly not above shutting people down through direct metal suppression if their questions start to pose any kind of a threat. When Welt’s questions became too direct and poignant, leading to him and Robin realizing that Gopher and Sunday were followers of Ena rather than Xipe, Gopher quickly commands Sunday to use his own mental suppression powers on them (since they’re both outside of Gopher’s control,) and Sunday does not hesitate. I have to wonder - how many times has Gopher potentially used this on Sunday, or any of the people around Sunday who got a little too close to presenting him with ideas that challenged the Order’s philosophy? It would not only be extremely easy for him to isolate Sunday intellectually while retaining his status as the sole voice of reason, but also likely, given that protection through control and domination is kind of the whole theme of the Order. (Or at least - Gopher and Sunday’s interpretation of it.) We can thus extrapolate that Gopher may’ve likely used other tactics of manipulation and control on Sunday that we haven’t seen, but which Sunday may imitate, such as in the segment with him narrating over the play about Penacony’s history.

And Sunday, clearly, is extremely isolated, long before he tres to pull his little stunt that ends in him as the lone awake person in an eternal dreamworld. Aside from Gopher, who can’t really be called on and only shows up when he feels like it, the only person he has to confide in is his sister Robin, but Sunday has long since internalized his whole “the strong protect the weak, and they protect the weak through control” bit to the extent that he tries very hard to shelter her from the things he sees as dangerous and painful. He doesn’t tell her about what happened to the bird (though she figured it out on her own anyway,) he doesn’t tell her a damn thing about his lil Ena cult, and he most certainly does not tell her about his doubts, his troubles, or the emotional weight of hearing about the worst of humanity (like that guy who sold his kids for a ticket) through the confessional booth day in and day out with a script that just says “Xipe forgives you.”

And Robin is, frankly, way stronger and smarter than her brother seems to give her any damn credit for. She’s left Penacony to tour the universe, and she headed into a warzone to help in the process, got shot in the throat, and kept singing after recovery. She’s experienced so much more of the universe than Sunday has, she’s had actual conversations with people about their problems that were not one-sided and driven by some sort of ulterior motive. She’s been the first to pick apart his faulty logic or catch on to him hiding something every time, (whether she mentions it in the moment or not,) she was the first to realize something was wrong and wake up in the end, and she ultimately rallied everyone to save her brother from himself. Had Sunday confided in her, talked about deeper life philosophies with her, shared his thoughts and feelings with her, not been isolated or isolated himself from her, treated her like she was just as strong as he was, things may have turned out very different.

Who’s really more sheltered? Robin, or her brother who tried to protect her from it all?

[readychilledwine]

Broken Part 3

Summary - Rhysand and Aelia finally have their reunion, and the consequences of it be damned.

Warnings - smut, Minors go away, or at least don't interact. I'm not your mother. I, in reality, cannot control you, BUT the warning is there. Fluff, some praise kink stuff.

A/N - this is very different from the smut I normally write, but after re-reading the original, it did not feel right. This moment needed to be just... love and worship? Forgive me for any errors, I'm currently editing and rewriting on my phone as I wait for my new laptop to arrive (internal squeeling it's purple.)

Word count - 3173

Rhysand's hands felt like feathers dancing across Aelia's skin. Her back had arched, pressing her chest closer to Rhysand as he kissed down her throat. "I adore you," he licked the column of her throat before gently biting down on her pulse point and making her whine. "I missed you so much, snowflake." 

She sighed happily as he continued kissing, nipping, and licking his way down her body. Her hand had tangled into his hair. "Do you know how often I think of worshiping you," His voice was soft, deep, and gentle. "How often I dream of you?"

Aelia's head fell back further into the pillows when his mouth wrapped around the tender peak of her nipple. This wasn't the hard pent up years apart sex she had been expected. The sex where Rhys would fuck her against the nearest surface with his sole mission in mind being her completion and submission.

This was the gentle sex he treated her to on special occasions. The sex that'd leave them both breathless. Where every roll of his hips into her was laced with emotion. Where every single second was spent with Rhysand whispering his love for her. Where every soft touch held meaning and a message. 

I love you, he purred into her mind. His tongue flicked at the sensitive skin before he kissed his way across her chest. His hands were gripping her hips tightly. As if he was afraid of letting her go, as if she'd slip away like a dream if his grip loosened. 

He had spent years waiting, praying, fighting, and playing all of his card right for this moment. The moment he filled her again, felt her again, could be vulnerable with her again. He had never questioned the Mother nor the Cauldron, even after the deaths of his mother and sister, Rhys understood everything served a purpose.

But what could his purpose truly be without Aelia there, at his side, holding him, loving him?

He moved further down her body. Nipping gently at the skin of her stomach and the faint scars from pregnancy that still lingered. He kissed each one delicately, praising her body for the gift it had given to him before continuing his journey lower.

He couldn't stop the growl that came the second he hovered above her core, nor the quick flicker of his eyes up her panting body, admiring each bruising mark beginning to adorn her pale beautiful skin. He placed a teasing kiss above where he knew she needed him, "Please," he groaned at her breathy voice. "Rhys please."

"Please, what darling?" He knew what she wanted, a feline like smirks gracing his face as he moved her legs over his shoulders and kissed the soft plushness of her inner thighs. "What does my darling need?"

Aelia had never been good at this. Growing up in a conservative household where sex had been a taboo topic. She remembered vividly the first time she had caved to his wants and tried to speak to him the way he wished for. Instead of sex, Rhysand had ended up on the floor laughing while Aelia buried her face into a pillow from embarrassment. She had learned. Slowly, but she did learn. "I need you to play with me, make me feel good. Please."

Rhys bit her skin gently, eyes rolling back as he realized what he was in for. "Need me to lick this pretty pussy baby?" The soft yes please had him grinding against the bed for any friction he could find, his mind beginning to cloud and his cock growing restless. "Lay back, darling. Let daddy take care of you." 

Aelia almost screamed at the first long drag of his tongue from her licking hole to her clit. She sighed softly and whimpered as she leaned back fully. Eyes fluttering shut as Rhysand moaned against her and began sucking her clit gently and rolling it under his tongue.

She tasted like magic. She always had to Rhys. He was hooked all over again, remembering now why any female he had tried to touch after their first casual hook up held no candle to Aelia. He switched between sucking that bundle of nerves to licking her hole and feeling a drunk state set in as he drank her essence.

He moved his hand up, gathering wetness on a single digit before moving his mouth back. "Tastes so good, baby. Like the finest of wines." Aelia whined at the praise, another moan fall from her parted pink lips as he ran his finger up and down her folds. "Did you play with this pretty girl while I was gone, darling?" Aelia's hips tried to move, chasing his finger or mouth as she desperately begged him for more. "Answer my question, Aelia. Did you play with my pussy while I was gone?"

Aelia shook her head, causing him to smirk. "Only yours. All yours." Her voice was laced in need. "Please, Rhys. I need it. I need you." 

His finger pushed in slowly, her jaw dropping at the stretch of the intrusion before a loud moan fell from her lips. Her tight heat was stretching around that single finger, burning her so deliciously she couldn't help but to start lightly rolling her hips. "Such a desperate little thing." Rhys went back to licking her clit, timing each movement of his tongue to match his fingers. 

Aelia was quickly becoming a mess. Rhys had begun a physical assault on her body while playing another in her mind. He was sending her memories. Memories of her riding him, head back in bliss. Memories of her taking him from behind as he forced her to watch in the mirror. Memories of her on her knees for him, cock deep down her throat as she stared up at him with wide blue eyes rimmed with tears. 

She was so lost in the pleasure of it all, she hardly noticed he had pushed a second finger into her until both of them were dancing on that spot inside of her only Rhysand could find. "Fuck! Rhys!" She felt herself tightening around his fingers. His mouth began to work harder. He trapped her clit between his lips, sucking, licking, gently scrapping his teeth against her. Her moans were mixing with breathy pants until finally a band snapped inside of her.

For the first time in 50 years, Aelia truly saw stars. Her mind fell into a lost fog and haze as pleasure rushed from her toes to her stomach. She screamed for him, calling his name as he pushed her over the edge of bliss. Her body shook and shattered with his touch. Good girl, just like that, darling. He praised her gently as he slowed his mouth and fingers. Just like that, Aelia. 

He pulled away gently with on last kiss to her clit but kept his fingers inside of her, stretching her open with a scissoring motion. He kissed up her body, licking each nipple, before kissing her lips gently. Aelia's hands roamed the muscles of his body greedily. Rememorizing the familiar hard planes, mentally noting each new scar. Need you inside me, she told him as his tongue gently massaged hers allowing her to taste every lingering drop of herself. 

Soon, he purred to her. His fingers began to speed up again. And he pulled his mouth away, leaning his forehead against hers briefly before hovering above her to watch. 

That coil began to form again and Aelia started gently meeting each thrust of his fingers. "Look so beautiful riding my hand, darling." Rhys was enchanted watching her face contort and her chest begin to rise and fall again. "Give me another one, baby. Soak my hand." 

He kissed her neck, sucking on her pulse point. Her moans were music in his ears. They reminded him of happy times, of not so distant memories. "I've missed you so much, Aelia." He bit her pulse point, savoring the cry she made as her pain mixed with pleasure.

She was on fire, the magic losing control as she couldn't help but to drop every guard she had. The windows were frosting over, snow beginning to fall harder. Rhys shivered in delight, bringing his body closer to hers. "There we go, darling," her soft inner walls pulsed again. "Cum for me. Let go." He pressed his thumb to her clit at just the right time, causing her to fall off the ledge again and cry out his name. 

Rhysand couldn't wait any longer, all but ripping his hand from her dripping cunt and sucking his fingers clean as he claimed his space between her thighs. He could have her any way he wanted, but he knew this was right. He forced her long smooth legs around his waist and took no more time to enter her in one quick harsh thrust knocking the breath from Aelia's overestimated body. 

"Fuck," he groaned out, eyes rolling back slightly as he felt her trying to adjust to his size. "Feels like home, darling." She whimpered at his praise. "Can I move?" 

"Please." Rhysand set a slow pace, enjoying the soft whines and sighs his wife was making as her hands came to explore his arms and chest. Every deep drag of his cock shot shivers through both of them as he hit all the right places. 

Aelia raised her upper body, resting on her forearms and hands to touch his forehead against hers again, silently pleading with him for intimacy. He could never deny her. Never resist her bright shining blue eyes. He leaned her back down, large hand spraying between her shoulder blades as he pressed his chest against hers. 

Her arms wrapped around his waist and one copied his, going between his shoulders to bring them as close as possible. 

He began whispering words of love and praise into her ear, watching every little change in her face as his hips met hers. She was moaning his name, whispering how good he felt, how much she had missed this. 

Rhys focused in, knowing he wasn't going to last long with the way she was squeezing him and how good she felt wrapped around his cock like a perfect warm sleeve. "Hold on to me, darling," Rhys kissed her gently before switching the angle of his thrusts. 

Aelia threw her head back into the pillows, a lewd moan ripping through her throat as he found his mark. Rhys began picking up speed as her nails sunk into his skin. Each time he hit that spot inside of her, Aelia felt herself slipping from reality. "So good," she panted as she clung tighter to him. "Feels so good, Rhys. Right there, please." 

She could feel that coil getting tighter and tighter, begging to be released. Her walls were fluttering. "Rhys please," he knew what she wanted. She watched his brows pinch together, jaw falling slightly as he began to moan and pant.

"Not yet, Aelia. I, fuck-" he couldn't even finish the sentence, his cock beginning to twitch at the feeling of her walls trying to milk him. "I need."

She kissed him deeply, "Need more?" He nodded desperately, whining as his thrusts became sloppy. Need to cum together, he said into her mind, mouth to preoccupied with moaning her name as she grew tighter and tighter. Almost there, darling. Just hold on a little longer. 

Aelia whimpered but obeyed, moving to lick and nip at the shell of his ear, then his pulse point. She began doing anything she could to offer him more pleasure, suddenly saddened by the lack of wings being displayed.

After a few more thrusts into her tight heat, he couldn't hold back any longer, bringing the hand holding her waist between them to play with her clit again. At the same time that he began to gently circle her nerve point with those long calloused fingers, Aelia bit down on the part of his neck that made Rhys putty in her hands. 

She screamed his name as she came, and he growled and groaned out hers. He growled harder as her nails redug into his back, making him give her a few more sharp thrusts. Her walls were draining him for everything he had, causing their released to mix together on her inner thighs and bedsheets. He began to kiss her sloppily, feeling their hearts racing in unison as he held her tight. He oulled out her slowly, watching as her back arched and then rested on top of her, studying the ethereal haze setting in on her face.

His attention was drawn to faelights in the courtyard suddenly snapping on. "Aelia, is your room sound shielded?" Panic fell over her face as she realized it wasn't because she had not been awake to do it herself. "We have to go, darling. Now." 

There was no basking in the post bliss high of their love making. Not as she heard guards and Kallias yelling. "If you are coming with me. I need to know now Aelia. My banishment is punishable by death, and I will not fight him in his own court." 

She didn't know what else to do, she nodded and clung tighter to him as darkness surrounded them. They landed hard on their marriage bed in the Riverhouse. Rhys was sweating again, the magic pulling so much out of him he had to pause every administration of aftercare and love he wanted to give Aelia. 

He finally lifted her and carried her to their large bathroom, walking into the already filled and warmed waters before sinking down with his wings appearing. 

"He's going to banish me, isn't he?" Rhys nodded, his mouth tightening as he tried to comfort her. "I can never go back?" 

He kissed the top of her head. "I will prove to him I didn't do it, darling. I will fight this so we can still enjoy our Winter home." He made her the promise, unknowing if it was empty words. "Let's not think about it right now, hmm?" He tilted her head up to him, "we just had a beautiful reunion, do not let darkness and sadness ruin this for us."

She nodded, blinking away the tears lining her eyes. He summoned her favorite wine, running his hand up and down her spine as she relaxed back into him. "I love you," she breathed as her head fell into his shoulder. "I never realized how much I truly loved you until you weren't here anymore."

Rhysand paused, his arm resting on her hips holding her tighter against him. "I realized how deeply I loved you when I realized the extent I would go to in order to protect you. To protect our son." Rhys looked down at her. 

"I knew there was a chance you would never forgive me for what I had to do, but I had to risk it. I had to risk losing you as long as it meant you were alive. She wanted you down there. She knew who you were. Knew you weren't in Winter. I had wiped everyone's memories of where you were." His hand come to rub his jaw. "I had to cage memories of Nyx learning to walk, to talk, of him throwing his food so deep down into my mind I almost forgot at times I had a son." His voice cracked. 

"I would have given her anything to protect you two and our family. If she asked for my own head on a spike, I would have let her take it." Aelia clung to him at the confession. 

"I never wanted Feyre, Aelia. I had always hoped it would be you. That it was you, and it had been delayed due to trauma or timing. I was desperate for that snap between us. When it wasn't you, I felt like part of me shattered. Like I would never be whole again."

Rhys paused again as she kissed him, enjoying the feeling of her lips lingering on his. "I went to Spring to reject the bond, darling." The words crashed into her like waves beating against a shore. The intensity of the statement could have cut her. "And when I came back and you were gone. That last bit of me broke. I wanted to chase after you to go there immediately and rip you and our son out of the beds you were in and bring you both home. But Azriel refused to tell me exactly where you were."

Aelia would have to thank Azriel later when she wasn't naked in her husband's lap, when her chest pressed against his watching as he sipped wine. "When Nyx came home, part of me came back to life. I had hope again. We sat for a while, just talking. I learned he prefers hand to hand over weapons training, thinks my taxation system is unfair, and needs to be updated. He has found a way to sneak out of my shields and into an illyrian camp, tricking the minds of everyone there to ensure he could partake in the Blood Rite." 

Pride laced into his voice as he smirked. "I learned from my son that you were devoted to him. That you waited on him, hand and foot pushing your own emotion and physical well being to the side the whole time I was gone. He told me if I didn't bring you home within 3 days, he'd leave and stay by your side, regardless of where that was."

Aelia responded, pulling back to look at Rhys. "I never asked that of him. He came with me by choice and of free will." Rhys nodded. 

"I am aware of that, snowflake. I also told him that Summer would freeze over before I left tonight without you." His face was serious. "Because, I had hoped deep down, your heart and soul were aching for me as much as I was longing for you."

"I will always long for you. I will always be yours." Rhys shut his eyes, basking in her quiet confession. "I love you"

He answered sincerely. "And I love you. More than the stars in the sky."

"Wash my hair?" He nodded, allowing her to turn and began caring for her.  It was a simple act of love. He rubbed shampoo into her scalp and massaged it to eliminate the tension she was feeling. She sighed in content as he washed away the suds and switched to working conditioner into her long white strands. He pushed her hair over her shoulder, allowing it to set for a bit, and began to massage her shoulders and kiss the back of her neck. 

Soft moans began to fall from her lips again as he worked out what felt like years of knots. 

He took her in the bath again. Then made love to her in front of their fireplace. And again on their bed. 

She slept soundly in his arms that night, allowing him to wrap his wings around her to block out the early morning sun that would disturb them in just a few short hours.

Rhys did not sleep at all, too afraid if he did she would be gone. That this was all a dream.

But Mother, even if it was, Rhys could not imagine a happier one.

Tag list: @we-were-beautiful @daedriclys @historygeekqueen

[cupid-styles]

oh i BET

i swear hes jus such a teasy shit

he would do that and then be completely relentless with it like no stopping until he know she cant take it anymore

and mias just 🫠all teary eyed like in her head ‘i fucked up didnt i’

🤭🤭 this is absolutely filthy but it’s been a few days since I’ve posted any blurbs so ig im feeling a little unhinged?????

content warnings: bondage (ties and ball gag), crying, overstim, squirting, toy use, degradation, daddy kink

. . .

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

The thing is, she can’t. She’s completely at his mercy, just the way he likes it — her wrists are tied high above her body, her thighs forced open, and, maybe the worst of all, a ball gag fit between her lips, spit pooling at the sides of her mouth.

Her eyes are watering as he works her to her fourth orgasm of the night. He’s ditched his usual foreplay consisting of his fingers and tongue, now solely opting for the wand vibrator that always gets her there quickest. It’s painful, at this point — the way he knows exactly what to say and do so she’s dripping down her inner thighs, a puddle beneath her bum as he watches her poor, assaulted hole clench through orgasm after orgasm.

“What, baby? Cat got your tongue?” He mocks with a teasing smirk, stretching over her form to thumb away some of the drool dripping down her chin. Despite moving from his spot between her legs, the vibrator never pauses its abuse on her swollen clit. “You were being such a fuckin’ brat all day, weren’t you?”

She moans helplessly, tears leaking from her eyes. The sound of her useless whimpers is muffled by the plastic of the gag and it makes Harry chuckle wickedly.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t say a fucking thing now, can you?”

She feels her body catapulting quickly to her next peak, having no choice but to ride it out. She knows she can use the substitute for her safe word if she needs to, but even under the circumstances of being at Harry’s will, she doesn’t want to.

“Atta girl, finally doing what daddy wants for once,” he praises as her clit pulses beneath the weight of the wand, a gush of liquid bursting from her. “Gorgeous girl, making a mess.” She’s shaking now, her hands in tight fists despite the silk binding of the ties. She attempts to mewl out his honorific, but it’s clear he pretends not to hear her when he glances up with a teasing look.

“What was that? Another one?” He asks, making her eyes widen, “Well, only if you say so, pretty.”

[jinkicake]

Love To Hate Me

(( mean!!! )) Childe, Thoma, Tighnari x Reader

well... he’s mean until you fuck the attitude out of him loooool

A/N: I needed to write smut to get it out of my system... I wanna get better at it!!! so here is terrible -shitty- smut that i wrote in one sitting w some characters I cannot get out of my head.... i love tighnari so much what does that say abt me?!

NSFW // SMUT

WC - 1.6k 

~~~

Childe

“You look so cute trying to take it all,” Lust darkens Childe’s dull eyes, now half-lidded and staring down at you. His entire body is seemingly taken by pleasure as electric shocks flood through his veins. “damn.” He’s captivated by the way you have him in your mouth, only halfway down his hard cock, desperately trying to press your nose to his smooth abdomen. Each wet sound from your mouth, suction and pop, makes the man groan. 

One of his gloved hands guides you along his length, tightly pulling at your roots as he digs his blunt nails into your scalp. The tightness of your throat has hot pleasure pooling in Childe’s gut, his thighs ache from the sensitivity. 

“Keep going,” He orders before sucking in a harsh breath at your attempt to take him in further. There’s a slight hollow in your cheeks as you run your tongue along his hardened length, tracing patterns back and forth under the veins. “be good, you can do it, sweetie.” His praise has an effect on both of you as the honey words on his tongue make Childe feel even hotter. It serves as the motivation for you to continue blowing him as if your life depends on it.

Each bob of your head makes the pool in his gut grow deeper and Childe absentmindedly runs his other hand over his chest. His flat palm presses over his nipples, running underneath his shirt and applying just enough pressure to make him sigh. 

The sounds coming from your throat turn him on further, nearing the edge that he’s just so close to crossing over. 

“Your mouth is so fucking tight,” He swears before slightly rocking his hips into your face. You have yet to take him entirely and the slight movement causes you to jolt in surprise. As his hips develop a steady pace, you eagerly meet each one with a relaxed jaw. You slowly move your hand from bracing the outside of his knee to his inner thigh and Childe lets out a strangled whimper. One that causes your eyes to grow wide and cunt to ache as he pathetically stares down at you. 

All at once, you finally stop teasing him. You take him entirely in your throat, his cock now bulging against your skin as your nose presses up against the light happy trail dusting over his pelvis. The warm sensation forces the harbinger to double over, nearly bending in half as his abdomen clenches painfully. His thrusts are still slight as he tries to get even deeper in your throat but, Childe uses all his remaining strength to hold you flush against his muscular stomach. 

“I’m gonna cum,” He chokes out, eyes brimming with tears as he squeezes them together. All it takes is one gentle lick of your tongue against the underside of his cock for him to cum inside of you. He finishes with quick jolts working his body and hot spurts painting your throat. Childe rides out his high, still rocking his sturdy hips while you gently stroke his thighs. Under your touch, he twitches against your pretty fingers. 

The first thing Childe does when he finally pulls himself off of you is plant his lips to yours, open wide with his tongue first.

Thoma

“Work for it,” Thoma is mean. Most people don’t see his sharp eyes and hard features, he saves all of that for you. Deep in his bedroom, it’s as if something inside of him snaps and his personality completely flips because of it. He bullies you with his cock, his words, and you absolutely love it. “come on. Don’t be lazy,” His voice is tight, almost sounding winded as if someone punched him in the gut. 

You do that to him. 

Your warm, pretty cunt does that to him. He refuses to move, solely waiting for you to do it yourself. All you’ve done is cockwarm him and it’s affecting him badly. After a few more moments of silence, a sound slap bounces off the walls of the room as Thoma grows tired of waiting.

“Move,” He roughly grips your ass in his big palm, massaging the sensitive skin under his hand before pulling you apart to stare at the way you hug his cock. It’s perverted and mean but as Thoma spits on your lower back, you can’t think of any other person you’d do this with. 

You whimper as you start to rock your hips backward on your hands and knees, the deeper he enters, the tighter you become. The feeling of his protruding veins rubbing against your walls makes you gasp, eyes blown out wide and mouth pathetically open as you try not to fuck yourself dumb on his cock early. 

“Oh my, Thoma!” You sputter out, words already slurring together as drool starts to pool in your mouth. There’s something wrong about the way he touches you, how he plays with your ass, thumb running over your lips as you desperately try to fuck yourself on him. Wrong feels so right. You fall onto your elbows when he runs his thumb over your other hole with the slightest amount of pressure. “Don’t!”

You’re moaning, withering beneath him and Thoma takes advantage of the curve in your back. He presses against your spine, molding you into a perfect arch before he begins to move his hips for himself. Rock after rock, he teases you with only a few inches until he stops moving entirely.

“Get back up,” He pats your clit then rubs the swollen area with three of his thick fingers. The bundle of nerves fit perfectly underneath his pretty fingers, slick and wet with each roll. You almost cry when he stops. 

Quickly, you push yourself back onto your hands and Thoma rewards you by bottoming out inside of you entirely. He does so in one smooth motion, pressing his balls flush against your ass, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. You’re desperately clenching your walls around him, thighs tightening together. 

Thoma laughs, strangled spurts of noises as he tries to level his breathing. He presses his forehead to the top of your head before lowering his face to kiss your shoulders. The feeling of his cold necklace against your back causes you to squirm, hips shifting back and forth with him still stuffed deep inside of you.

“You’re going to make me cum early,” He grunts with amusement lacing his words. “yeah, you want that, don’t you?”

Tighnari

“Don’t think that this is for you.” No matter how many times Tighnari clarifies it, you still don’t understand how eating you out is for his own pleasure. Every time before he stuffs his face between your thighs, tongue pressing out to jut into your sweet cunt, Tighnari always provides you with a disclaimer. “I want to do this, it’s not about you.” 

But, you’re the one receiving the pleasure and cumming on his tongue, fingers wrapped tightly in his hair. You don’t get him and, thankfully, don’t have to. 

“Oh,” Tighnari gasps to himself this time when he spreads your legs apart, bending your knees so that your ankles are planted on either side of his head. He stares intently at your bare cunt, twitching under his slight touch. The closer he looks, the more aroused he becomes. You can see it in the way his pupils dilate and how he wets his lips before biting down with his teeth. He can smell you, you’re sure of it as he rubs his face on your inner thigh, back and forth while deeply inhaling. 

You’d be creeped out if you weren’t so turned on by the knowledge that he’s going to eat you out until you pass out. 

Tighnari removes one of his gloves, revealing his soft skin before he throws the material into your face. You don’t have time to insult him or throw it back because you’re too captivated by the sight of him sucking on his finger. His cheeks hollow out around his pointer finger, tongue laving the digit in his spit before pulling it out. He flicks your clit under the pad of his finger and the moan that leaves you is unholy. Your hips thrash under the light touch and Tighnari simply circles the nub over and over until it starts to swell. Once you’re lathered in his spit, he brings two of his fingers to your entrance and slowly inserts them facing up. He watches for a few moments, eyes wide as you suck his fingers in, then he starts to piston his fingers in and out. 

At one of your low moans, he curls them. He curls his fingers shallow enough inside of you that it hits behind your clit where he knows your sweet spot to be and you wail. It’s a sound that causes his mouth to water and Tighnari can’t fight off the urge to taste you any longer. 

He uses his strong wrist to fuck you with his fingers as his lips encase your clit, tongue lolling over the nub before he sucks. Your sweet taste makes him whine, makes his hips shift and all you can do is watch as Tighnari’s eyes flutter shut in contentment. 

He’s so turned on, all he can think about is licking you clean. In his desperation, he ruts his hips into your mattress. All he wants is to have you on his tongue forever, permanently. He wants it so bad, he needs it so bad and he continues to please you until his entire wrist is covered in your essence. 

Tighnari is always mean to you, so mean, and then he falls into your bed and becomes intertwined with your bedsheets to become a man starved. 

[pvnks0ul]

Mean!riri would definitely be the type to tease you till you're a crying mess(literally)

🚥: (18+) spanking, reader crying alot, really mean!riri obvi, wo-manhandling, (cunt),first time smut writing, and some that I probably missed sawry

Mean!riri hovering over you after positioning you to lay face down propped up on your knees. rubbing over the smooth skin that was showing under your lace panties before grieving you with a loud smack on your bottom.

Pushing your head flush into the pillow if you yelped because she didn't tell you that you could make sounds and then landing another one that stung much worst than the first, on the other cheek as discipline.

all you could do was bite your lip, quickly inhaling your squeal before it'd reach her ears and try not to move so much.

She'd knead the sore skin some more before pulling the panties down just to where the round of your ass ends, her eyes instantly catching onto the sight of slick sticking to each of your inner thighs.

Riri wanted so badly to lick some of that up, she could feel her clit jump as soon as the thought had popped into her head but she resisted solely because she knows how much you'd enjoy that and she doesn't want that right now, so instead she dips a single finger between your lips just long enough to bring up some of your slick until you breathed a little too hard, coming out as a raspy whimper

She tsks and roughly pushes you so that you're completely down with your stomach to the bed before flipping you over, her pointer finger still shiny from your juices. You no longer held back your tears as you stared back up at her through your now curly lashes.

She gripped your face, puffin your cheeks out before shoving her finger in, you welcome it with a small squeak, slowly circling your tongue around the long digit, riri shifts in her boxers letting a grunt fall from her, "you're so fucking nasty, baby."

You moan and let go of her fingers with a disgustingly loud pop, a pathetic little pout settling on your lips at her slight degrading, "I'm sorry."

She could only scoff at your response because the both of you knew you were not and would definitely do it again on command.

mean!riri who leans down to finally connect her plump lips with your softer ones and moaning into the kiss when she gets a taste of you even better when it's on your own lips. Your hands make quick work of grabbing the sides of her face and the back of her head, trying to bring her in closer because you just can't get enough, she'd give you a warning to calm down and if you don't she slaps your thigh telling you to shut up when you let out a screech from the pain, before releasing your lips with a single peck and moving her calloused hands up some more.

Riri teasingly circled the outside of your lips blindsiding you when she hikes your knees up till they hit your bare chest, moving your beyond damp panties to the side, so sh could peak at your leaking cunt

rubbing her palm over your clothed mound so it would hit your clit indirectly and you couldn't get off on it, laughing tauntingly whenever you tried to grab her long fingers and slip them under the band of your underwear, not giving in at all and removing them right away.

And if you whine she'd definitely mock you, something about how if you really wanted her to take care of you then you would be begging instead of crying because, "good girls dont cry 'til they get their way, they work for it." she spat at you with venom, your very last warning to straighten up

Mean!riri who really doesn't even give a fuck if you beg cause she'll taunt you even worse for those too, "you keep saying you want me to touch you, baby but, you not saying where.." she sighs and moves your coils out of your sweaty face, finally peering down with a deeply sad facade, "I won't know if you're really committed to this if you can't do that f'me, mama." she said while shaking her head and looking away like she was willing to stop if you didn't start singing her favorite song.

mean!riri who mutters out a quiet, "fuck it" to herself when she's finally ready to give in and fulfill your wishes, her ego hiking multiple altitudes when you spread your legs without her saying so much as a word to you now, all she had to do was slide your panties all the way off, giving your ankle a little kiss before laying down on her belly and rubbing your thighs, kissing down to your open split, blowing cool air onto your puffy clit which caused you to let out a loud mewl of disapproval "fu-uck please riri" You managed to slur out.

Riri smirked up at you, "mmm...how bad do you want me, baby?" she licked her lips trappin the bottom one inside.

"I want you so so bad, ri baby please-" you sounded surprisingly more desperate than you looked- and you looked like an absolute mess, edges flying up like they were a space x project, lip liner smudged, face stained with ruined mascara from the countless tears cascading down your cheeks due to her relentless teasing, you were such a mess, but to riri you were a pretty mess.

She had you right where she wanted you.

Riri cooed at you before bringing your wet cunt closer to her by pulling the front of your legs, "Of course, mama." She practically growls.

"You know, I'mma take care of you, baby."

Running away now- biiiiiiii

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: Azriel x Reader

Series Index (complete series)

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Hi everyone- I write for ACOTAR a lot in my freetime, but I almost never share it. This particular one I'm posting is almost 30k words long so far, and isn't finished. It's a slow burn, obviously. I can't promise everything will be good, sometimes I skip around in my writing so that I'm not bored or losing motivation. So, when that comes, just do your best to imagine what happens in between, but know nothing of interest happened lol

I plan to split up the series best I can- but some chapters may be long, some short. Just depends on how I can split up my writing. Normally I don't write in chapters. I just... write. There are some POV changes, but they exist only in the beginning atm.

anyway. enjoy.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

I was carrying everything I had, on me, strapped with the bag that rested between my wings or on my person because it was a weapon. I peaked around the rock outcropping, spotting the city I was sneaking around down below. I didn’t mean any harm. I was just curious how everything was fairing, seeing as it had been about 15 years after Hybern.

I breathed just a little bit too hard, the great Illyrian wings behind me shifting around as I prepared to get a little closer to the city. If I could get in, that’d be great. Maybe I could afford to get some bread and cheese as a treat.

But then I heard the sound of a sword being drawn and I whipped around.

Two huge Illyrian warriors greeted me. One… one was covered in familiar darkness. Shadows. This… this was a shadowsinger in front of me. And there was only one shadowsinger I knew of in the vicinity. And he was right in front of me. I noticed the armor on both of the warriors next, 7 siphons a piece.

“Don’t move or we will kill you,” the warrior with longer hair growled.

I paused, hand resting at my thigh, just above a dagger sheathe, but I moved it up when I saw the shadowsinger eyeing the sheathe closely.

I knew who they were. The spymaster and general. Part of the Inner Circle of the Night Court. Under the High Lord, Rhysand, himself. Azriel, the shadowsinger and spymaster and Cassian, the general who had long hair apparently. Not that I judged him for it. I just preferred my clipper-short length, to long hair for fighting. It didn’t get in the way.

They kept their weapons pointed directly at me. I didn’t move, keeping my hands poised away from my sword sheath and out, but up and away from my weapons. This was bad. If they thought I was an enemy, I was fucked.

“What now?” I questioned, adding a bit of snarky tone in. “I’m not here to cause harm to you or the city below us.”

“As if we believe that. You’re strapped with weapons galore,” Cassian scoffed. “What even are you?”

I chuckled, lifting my chin up to reveal my six siphons that were attached to a leather collar around my neck.

“An Illyrian,” I responded. “Female, yes I know. Such a shocker.”

Cassian eyed me, but Azriel just seemed unnaturally still, as if frozen in place. But he kept his gaze solely focused on my hands and where they went.

“Why are you here?” Cassian growled, stepping closer with his sword. I backed up a bit closer to the cliff, putting distance in between us.

“I was curious what happened after Hybern, to Velaris and I came for food if I was able to walk in. Seeing as I cannot, I’ll leave you all in peace,” I responded.

“No,” Azriel spoke suddenly. First word he said the entire time. “You are heavily armed. So you will face an interrogation to ensure the safety of Velaris.”

I scoffed. “I hardly think that’s necessary.”

Cassian stepped forward again. I stepped even closer to that cliff.

“If you jump off that cliff, we will kill you,” the general reminded me. “So stop moving. If you are truly not here to harm anyone, prove it. Because currently you are carrying at least 5 daggers and a sword, and probably more if I had to guess.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not going with you,” I growled, wings flaring slightly in frustration. “Sorry for coming so close. I’ll just go to Hewn City next time, gosh. Nobody is allowed a bite to eat around here.”

Azriel suddenly leaped into the air, and too fast for me to dodge, he kicked my head, knocking me unconscious.

-----

My head pounded when I woke up, groaning as I flickered my eyes open. 

I assessed my situation for a moment.

I was tied to a chair, wings tied at the apex to each other and limbs each strapped to a chair leg or arm. My weapons and things were gone. My siphons remained luckily, I noticed as I flexed the power, causing the dark blue stones to glow a bit.

I looked around the room best I could. Gray stone walls. A completely empty room. A wooden door behind me. Hard to spot with my wings. Probably did that for a specific reason.

I pulled at my ropes a bit. No budge. They weren’t coming off which meant I needed a way to prove my innocence to the literal spymaster of the Night Court.

The door opened behind me and I jerked my head around to see.

“Good, she’s awake Azriel,” a new voice said behind me. 

The male walked around to let me observe. Bright violet eyes, no wings and tussle black hair. He had the tan skin of an Illyrian though, which was a bit odd. More footsteps came from the other side of me. Azriel, I noticed. He had a very well sharpened dagger out in his hand.

The door slammed shut behind me. Whether it was someone or magic, I didn’t know.

I took a deep breath and faced the two males in front of me.

“What is your name?” The unnamed male asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated. “Do you know who we are? And why you are here?”

“I don’t know you. I’m here because I was caught with weapons near Velaris and this idiot and the general are assholes,” I responded.

“Very well then. Let me introduce myself then. I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. Azriel, here, is my spymaster,” the male replied.

Shit, I thought. This was the High Lord? Oh I was going to have fun escaping this, I thought with a groan in my mind. Speaking of said mind, I felt a very sudden and violent attack on my mind’s shields. I tensed, building it up against the claws attacking. Just like Rainne, my master, taught me.

“A shield, interesting,” the High Lord mused. The attack on my mind stopped, but I was weary. “Who taught you to shield from daemati?”

“An old master,” I replied. “No one of concern.”

“No one of concern?” Azriel spoke up. “Why are they of no concern?”

I narrowed my eyes and glared at the spymaster. “Because they died,” I replied simply, turning away the best I could from the male.

“Why were you so heavily armed when sneaking around Velaris?” Rhysand suddenly asked, switching the subject which I was thankful for.

“I was curious of how the city looked since I last saw it during Amarantha’s time and I also wanted some food,” I replied simply. “My weapons are for my safety.”

“Why would you need all those weapons to prove safety? Are you trained as an assassin?” Azriel asked.

I chuckled. “Might as well be, but no. I need the weapons because Illyrian males from the camps don’t exactly like me.”

“Why is that?” Rhysand spoke.

“I escaped from a camp that’s run by an asshole who holds old grudges,” I replied simply. “You all don’t need my life story, so what do you want from me?”

“Escaped?” Azriel said, narrowing his eyes. His hand falling from where it’d been picking at his dagger’s edge. “Explain.”

I glared in his direction. “No. Fuck off,” I replied.

Azriel stepped forward then, a knife coming to rest under my chin, pulling my gaze up.

“Explain,” the male ordered again. Rhysand remained silent, watching. 

“You don’t need my entire life-“ Azriel slapped my cheek hard. I snarled from the hit, reeling and struggling against my bonds.

But Azriel had frozen. He looked to Rhysand and then to me, and then he was gone, only a flowing bit of shadows remained for a moment.

Rhysand remained very still, staring at me more thoughtfully now. “Interesting,” he mused before he walked out the door.

I growled, thrashing in my seat. The slap hadn’t hurt, it just triggered an ingrained instinct to snarl when someone, especially a male, hits me.

I breathed for a moment, staring at the wall blankly. Nothing to do, I thought with a groan of boredom.

-----

Azriel was losing his mind. He’d slapped the female Illyrian he was interrogating and then something had slapped him in the face in return. The feeling of a knot in his chest, and a roaring instinct to stop what he was doing and instead protect said female in front of him.

So he’d winnowed out into open sky, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. There was a knot in his chest that was a bit uncomfortable, and it connected to a very loose string. It was beyond weird.

He saw Rhys flying out of where the interrogation occurred and coming straight for him.

“What was that?” Rhys asked as soon as he got close enough.

“Something was wrong,” Azriel replied. “Very wrong. I cannot hurt that female. When I slapped her, as if the touch caused it, a knot attached to a loose string now is attached in my chest and my instincts scream at me to protect the female.”

Rhys eyed him. Then the High Lord chuckled. “Interesting that your mate is literally the one you knocked out.”

Azriel’s gaze locked on him immediately. “What?” He demanded.

“The feeling you described to me sounds exactly like what I experienced with Feyre before she knew about the bond,” Rhys laughed. “Now this is just hilarious.”

“It is not,” He protested. Then softer, “are you completely sure?”

Rhys laughed. “You feel like you must protect her, right? If I wanted to slap her myself, would you willingly let me?”

Azriel’s instincts roared up all in unison. He shook his head to try and clear it. “Alright, fair point.”

A heartbeat moment later.

“Shit what the fuck do I do now,” Azriel breathed.

Rhys laughed, wings still beating against the air. “Well, first I say we let her out the ropes, and then we plan a formal dinner at the House of Wind and have a chat.”

“How the hell do I tell a female I literally just kicked unconscious that she’s my mate?” Azriel thought aloud.

“I mean, I did do some pretty bad things to Feyre before, so I’m sure it’s amendable,” Rhys offered. “Just take your time. Get to know her. Court her. Need I explain more?”

Azriel sighed in frustration. “What the fuck. Why now world,” he whispered to himself. Then louder so Rhys could hear. “Let’s go let her out I suppose. Make sure she’s aware she won’t be harmed first, and then invite her to dinner.”

Rhys nodded. “I’ll be your wingman, with wings,” he said cheekily.

“Idiot,” Azriel responded affectionately.

-----

About 30 minutes went by and then Rhysand and Azriel returned. I felt a sudden release of pressure as a knife was brought right up near the membrane of my wings to cut the ropes off. I barked out in sudden adrenaline.

Then Azriel cut my other restraints and I eyed him more closely.

“Be more careful with that thing,” I growled at Azriel. “My wings are right there and I don’t think you’d like a shape object that close either.”

“It was that or touch the wing. I think you prefer the former,” Azriel replied. “Plus I’m much more able with my dagger than you think.”

“Why am I being unrestrained?” I asked, standing up to even my height with theirs a bit more. I spotted wings on Rhysand and only let my gaze settle on them for a moment before I met Azriel’s gaze with fiery intensity.

Rhysand replied, “We’ve concluded you are most likely not a danger to Velaris. So, as an apology for these events, we’d like to invite you to a dinner at the House of Wind up on the mountain.”

I eyed them closely, massaging the ropes’ feeling out of my wrists and shaking it out of my wings. “Why,” I simply replied.

“We’re interested in you, that’s all. We’ve yet to meet a female Illyrian who claims to have escaped a war camp,” Azriel spoke up. “So perhaps we can talk over food in a more peaceful setting.”

I glared at them for a second. “If I get my things back, then I’ll go to your dinner.”

Rhysand snapped his fingers, and there, my weapons and bag were.

“How and when do I get to this House of Wind?” I asked, sheathing a few of my daggers. And putting my sword back at my hip. Just because they didn’t say they were going to hurt me doesn’t mean they won’t.

“It’s a short flight up this ridge. You’ll see the balcony,” Azriel replied. “Come when the sun touches the horizon.”

“And am I allowed outside in the meantime?”

“I’d avoid the city, but yes,” Rhysand answered. “We will see you later Y/N.”

Then they were gone. Winnowed away.