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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨6/End

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) cucking, violence, blood, some untagged extreme events.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Here’s the grand finale, I hope you all enjoy it!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You breathed shakily as you clipped the chain of diamonds around your neck. Clark stood and you watched him place his gun down. He rolled his head back and cracked his neck as he shrugged off his jacket. He slung it over the corner of the upholstered chair and your fingers fluttered down the front of your dress.

“Marcus,” he called tauntingly and clapped his hands, “I think you should see this with both eyes, don’t make me take one out.”

“Stop,” you hissed, “please.”

“What do you care about him, sweetheart? He’s a pimp,” he said brusquely.

You lowered your eyes and sniffed. He nudged you with a bent knuckle then hooked his finger under the strap of your dress.

“It’s getting late,” he warned, “let’s go.”

You stepped away from him and pushed down the zipper hidden underneath your arm. You kept your gaze to the floor as you slid the straps down your arms and shimmied out of the taut fabric. You flung the dress away and bent to undo your strappy heels. Clark tutted as he got close and slapped your ass.

“I like those, they go well with the necklace,” he purred and traced his finger up your back to snap the band of your bra.

You winced and stood. You reached back and unhooked the bra and tossed it at him with venom. You exhaled and pushed down your panties as he hummed. It took all your strength and pride not to cover yourself and cower. He came up behind you and traced your shaped with his fingertips.

“Come on,” he gripped your waist and walked you around, only feet from Marcus as he stopped you in front of the ladder, “up.”

“What?” you grabbed the rungs as he urged you closer.

“Go up,” he repeated brusquely.

You climbed carefully and when you got to the top, he tickled the back of your thigh.

“Turn around, sweetheart, and take a seat,” he demanded.

You heard Marcus sob against the gag and you turned as you tried not to slip. You sat on the top of the ladder as you faced Clark and he grasped your knees. He pushed until you let him part your legs and you felt the cool air along your cunt. He bit tip of his tongue out and kneaded your thighs.

“I’ve been patient, I can keep on,” he taunted as he leaned in and his hot breath grazed your folds, “I want to savour this, sweetheart.”

He flicked his tongue along your cunt and you hissed and clung to the sides of the ladder. He pushed your legs back so that your feet hooked around the rungs and held your hips in place. You gasped at the sensation that steamed from your loins and bit your lip.

You put your bent finger between your teeth and moaned. His tongue moved faster as if encouraged by your weak drawl and your heart fluttered wildly. You dropped your hand to your throat and the diamonds pressed to your palm. You gulped and leaned your head back as you tried to stifle a whine.

He kept more fervent with each lap, and you pushed your thighs against his face. You looked down without thinking and the height made you dizzy. You rasped and grabbed the back of his head as you feared you would fall. He growled and sucked on your clit. You groaned as your lungs burned and your eardrums pulsed.

You panted as the flames licked at your flesh. You turned your head away from Marcus in shame as you felt the sudden peak rising. Your hand slipped down to grasp the back of Clark’s neck and you squirmed as you came into his mouth. He kept the pressure on your clit and teased it lightly with his teeth until your legs hung limp and slowly dragged his lips down your thigh, a trail of your arousal left along your skin.

“Mmm,” he stood and shoved his hand between your legs. He pushed a finger into you suddenly and the ladder teetered beneath you. He steadied it with his other hand and added another finger, “listen to her, Marcus. How could you let this go? Priceless.”

He pulled his fingers from your cunt and held them up so that they glistened in the light. He presented them to Marcus and raised them to his mouth to suck them clean. You grimaced and looked away once more.

“Sweetheart,” he turned back and kicked the bottom rung, “you can turn around.”

You blinked at him and swallowed. You trembled as you stood on a rung and he caught you before you could fall. He helped turn you around and placed your hands at the top of the ladder and he guided you to the bottom rung. You gripped it tightly as he groped your ass and smacked it several times so the sound reverberated.

Your flesh stung as he pressed himself to your back and nuzzled your head. He gripped your hips and rubbed his thumbs along your hips. He pulled your waist back so you were bent slightly against the ladder. He pushed apart your ass as slid two fingers down to your cunt.

He ran his fingertips along your wet folds and unzipped his pants with his other hand. You quivered as he came flush against you and bent his knees as he prodded at you from below. His tip brushed along your entrance and he coated himself in your juices before he slid just inside.

You bent your head and gulped in air as he stretched you. You reached back as he pushed in another inch and you pressed your hand to his stomach blindly. He grabbed your hand and twisted your arm behind your back. He thrust into you completely and bent to whisper along the shell of your ear.

“Feel that,” he jerked his hips so that you cried out, “perfect fit.”

“Please…” you croaked.

“Please… more?” he mocked and drew his hips back, only to slam into you again.

“Nnngghhh,” you groaned and clung to the ladder as he rocked slowly.

“This is real art, Marcus,” Clark said as he ran his hands up your side and cupped your tits, “look at her… listen to her.”

“Pl--” you couldn’t speak as your walls tightened around him snugly, begging for more even as the strained around him.

“Mmmmm,” he kissed your neck and sent a shiver through you, “so sweet.”

He nibbled playfully then sank his teeth in as he sped up. He grunted and stood back as his hips clapped against your ass. His motion stuttered for just a moment and suddenly a loop of cloth fell over your head and around your neck. He pulled the tie until it was taut around your throat and wrapped the tails around his hand.

“Ah, look at her wearing her leash like a good kitten,” he purred, “my kitten.”

You shook your head and moaned through your clamped lips. Why did it have to feel so good?

He grabbed your chin with his other hand and turned your face towards Marcus. Your head lolled in his grip and your lashes fluttered as you saw the shadow of the man you loved. You couldn’t just let that go, not in a night. A tear trickled from your eye and leaked down the side of Clark’s hand.

He kept his hand firm around your jaw and his other arm swept around your waist. He lifted you from the ladder and you squeaked. He carried you to the chair, his cock buried as deep as it would go. He bent his legs as he placed you on the cushion and you latched onto the back as he began to fuck you again; harder, faster than before.

Your voice rang out as your groans grew almost to wails. All your anger and sadness bubbled over as the pleasure forced it from your lungs. You bared your teeth and blinked through the blur. Marcus shook his head as the stool wobbled beneath him. You hated him, you hated the man behind you. You hated that you were so stupid.

You came with a shrill cry and Clark dropped your head against the back of the chair. You hugged the upholstery and whimpered as he sped up. He lifted your legs off the seat as he rutted into you, his growls savage and carnal. Your nails dug into the fabric and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the swell of ecstasy.

He rammed into you so hard you were crushed against the seat. He supported himself against the arms of the chair as he pounded into you. He huffed and swore under his breath as you felt him quake and he spilled into you. You braced yourself, disgusted by him and how great it felt.

When he finished, he lingered inside you, his knee against the edge of the seat. He slid out of you slowly and his cum dripped out of you as you sat back to catch your breath, your arms shaky as you pushed away from the cushion. He went to the table where your paints were and he took a clean rag from the bunch to wipe himself. He whistled and caught his breath.

“Did you like the show?” he taunted Marcus and tossed the dirty cloth at him, “I sure did.”

Marcus grumbled through the gag and you backed off the chair. Your walls were tender and tingly, your legs trembling, and your soul racked with shock and spite. You could hardly see as the dim light made your head ache and you shook your head as you tried to escape the afterglow that drained the energy from you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Clark continued, “I can give her anything she wants and what can you do, hmm?”

You fell against the small square table and your hand scrambled for the dark pistol. You stood straight and turned to limp over towards the men. Clark’s back was to you as your heels knocked clumsily against the wood. As you neared, Marcus lifted his head and his brow wrinkled.

You aimed at Clark but before you could pull the trigger, his arm was around yours. He pushed the gun down and you fired into the floor. He overpowered you easily as his hand wrapped around yours and you fought for control of the gun. He chuckled darkly and forced your arm forward.

He pointed the barrel at Marcus as you tried to push it away and another shot went off and left your ears ringing. You screamed as you watched the blood spread across your boyfriend’s chest. Clark released you and you fell to the floor as the gun spun across the floor.

You got to your knees and dragged yourself over to Marcus. You reached to touch his bleeding chest and more spread onto the gag shoved into his mouth. The red stained your hands and dripped down your arms as you rose to cradle his head and his breath rattled as you pulled the cloth from his mouth. His eyes rolled back and you felt the strength leave him entirely.

“No, no, no,” you grabbed his chin and smacked his cheek, “please, please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Marcus…”

You were yanked back suddenly and nearly fell over on the strappy heels. Clark spun you to face him and you hit his chest. You looked up at him as he pushed your face against him and embraced you. He hushed you as he pet your head.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s alright,” he cooed, “you won’t be alone.”

Tears flowed down your cheeks and choked you. You sniffled and shook your head as you pushed weakly against Clark, “you’re a monster.”

“You pulled the gun, sweetheart. We could’ve been done…” he snarled as he dragged you over to the window and spun you against the glass, “but the adrenaline always get my blood pumping.”

He pressed you to the glass as your hands streaked scarlet along the window. You heard his zipper again and in an instant, he was inside you. You were on the toes of the heels as he shook the glass and thrust into you deliberately. You leaned your forehead to the cold pane and stared out into the night, the metallic smell of blood tugging at your nostrils.

🎨

You didn’t sleep, you didn’t even lay down as Clark moved your body how he wanted. The water couldn’t be hot enough to scald away your guilt and the memories of a night that never ended. The afterglow of the shower and your night did little to ease the horror of your existence. You felt as if the blood still stained your hands as you buttoned up the borrowed shirt.

You went to the window of the spacious bedroom and looked out as you heard the voices below. The black plastic bags loaded into the back of an equally dark car. You sobbed and smothered it with the loose cuff of the shirt. That was how you said goodbye, watching the remnants of your boyfriend thrown away like trash.

“Sweetheart?” Clark’s voice set your hair on edge and you turned to face him, a towel hung loosely around his waist, “I know it’s hard now--”

“How can you be okay?” you edge away from him as he neared, “he’s dead. You shot him.”

“Wasn’t my finger on the trigger,” he planted his hand against the wall and blocked you with his arm, “you shouldn’t play with guns.”

You sniffed and mopped up the last of your tears. He was so callous, so calculating. It chilled you completely.

“Who are those men?”

“A few soldiers,” he said as he dropped his arm and grabbed your hand, “you look tired. You should sleep.”

“I can’t,” you tried to tug away but he kept a hold of you.

“Well, if you’ve still got the energy,” he pulled you against him and snaked his hands down to your ass.

“You’re horrible,” you uttered as you grasped his thick biceps.

“To some,” he bent so that his nose touched yours, “but I can be real good to you, sweetheart.”

You stared at him, worn and weak. He kissed you and you let him. Marcus was dead because of you. You thought he was the selfish one for wanting everything this man had, but hadn’t you wanted the same? You came here to paint because you wanted to get paid. You were no different and now he was gone and you were stuck exactly where you belonged. It was what you deserved.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he parted and turned you to walk you backwards to the bed, “you’re gonna need your sleep.”

He nudged you down onto the bed. He went to the window and drew the long drapes and the room dimmed. He swept away his towel and let it pile on the floor as he climbed up next to you and reclined with a sigh. You laid back on the pillow and looked up at your reflection in the mirror set into the ceiling.

“Now that is art,” he winked at your reflection as he reached to caress your cheek, “you’ll see it soon enough.”

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #portrait of a dangerous man #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #dc #dcu #mob au #mob!au #au

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ssupersonicc · 3 years

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highly commendable — l.g

♡ pairing — 90s liam gallagher x fem!reader

♡ summary — liam has y/n begging for him to use his mouth on her, though he can’t resist teasing the poor birdie.

♡ includes — sexual content, oral (fem receiving), li being a tease, dom/sub dynamics

♡ a/n — a liam smut was requested by two lovely anons, so thank you, doves! if it seems a little rushed, i apologise! ps, li calling the reader birdie is just *chef’s kiss*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

His lips were all kiss-bitten and slick with spit, mouthing sloppily along her neck that craned for his attention.

He was spoiling her, giving poor y/n all she whined for and she soon grabbed at the fabric of his t-shirt, cotton stretching in fistfuls — so desperately needy for those hands of his.

Liam clicked his tongue after pulling away from the bruising upon her neck.

“Now, now, pretty girl-” he muttered, a soft smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth, speech so teasing, it had a sudden surge of warmth fluttering throughout her cheeks. “what’s all the rush for, eh?”

Y/n was whining — Liam’s own hands enveloping around hers to release her desperate grasp upon his shirt, but she soon had her fingers weaving through his hair and tugging with a roughness that had him grunting.

“Liam, please,” she murmured, her lips pouting downwards and eyelashes fluttering up at him. “need it so bad.”

“Need what, love?” His speech was so teasing, utterly intoxicating when it came to y/n and she couldn’t help but inhale sharply. She cowered from under his gaze, ever so bashful when Liam’s hands kneaded the flesh of her chest from over her shirt so lazily. “Can’t get all shy on me now, birdie.”

The roundness of her cheeks were searing, almost as boiling as the gaze his hooded eyes had on her — flickering constantly from her heaving chest to the pout upon her lips.

Liam watched her carefully, knowing full-well what she needed — widened eyes settled on his mouth, lids fluttering when he knowingly flicked his tongue against that puffy bottom lip of his.

“You want my mouth, eh, pretty girl?” He cooed, taking her chin between a thumb and forefinger. “Gowan, use your words.”

“Yes, please,” she whined out, nodding her head, abashed, fingers still absentmindedly running along his scalp then to his neck. “give me your mouth, Li.”

“Now, that wasn’t so hard was it, little bird?”

He kissed her — once, twice, three times, then in quick succession, he had her t-shirt bunched around the curve of both breasts, tugging crudely at the band of her bra and thumb swiping over the little bow that lay pride and place between her tits.

The weight of her breasts spilled out of the cups, so heavy in his palms and nipples achingly stiff when he rolled his thumbs over each one.

The poor thing was getting restless, thighs unable to clench and squeeze together because of his perch between them; resulting in her crooning and begging for him to hurry, to go lower and satiate the obscene throbbing of her desperately engorged clit.

Liam was mouthing at her tits, lolling his tongue over and over the peaks of both nipples before suckling them between his lips.

He soon pulled away with a lewd pop of his lips — brows raised and coming to a furrow at her constant squirming; mocking her.

“Sweetheart, you wanted my mouth and I gave it to you-” he spoke, punctuating his sentence with a quick click of his tongue. He knew what he was doing, hell, he could practically see her arousal pooling into the crotch of her underwear, completely saturating the fabric that sat snugly over the length of her slit — the darkened patch so inviting, though he’d have to make her beg first and foremost. “don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“Stop teasing me!” Her eyes glistened with tears, just begging to slip past her waterline from all the pent-up frustration. And Liam chuckled at her pathetic state; she was ever so easy to tease into oblivion. “I’ll do anything — whatever you want, just, please!”

Y/n pushed at his head, in some sort of attempt to have him lower himself to where she needed him so desperately.

“Anything, eh?” Rough palms spread her thighs wide, settling himself on his stomach and pressing a sloppy kiss to the fullness of her plush thigh. “cheeky girl.”

Full lips puckered continuously upon the inners of her thighs, the hot flesh becoming slick with his spit and faint outlines of his teeth.

He was going ever so slowly, teasing her still and the minimal stimulation had a soft haze blanket her vision, y/n’s hands still tugging and pushing at his hair just to get him to use his mouth — properly.

She thought Liam must’ve got a little tired of the show he was putting on, because in haste, he flattened his tongue and licked a thick stripe along the length of her slit, swallowing soon after just to get a good taste of her arousal.

Those puffy lips of his, wrapped snugly around the peak of her clit, suckling the engorged flesh and grazing it with the tip of his tongue.

Y/n was whining, crying out incoherent babbles — hoping that her messy mewls were enough to commend him greatly.

He was completely devouring her, giving her what she absolutely craved — teasing her opening with the tip of his tongue before pushing it deep inside, thrusting his jaw and flicking his appendage, nose bumping crudely against her clit.

“This what you wanted, eh, birdie?” His words were muffled against her soaked pussy, the vibrations had her toes curling.

“But-” He pulled away to her dismay, lips smacking together before swallowing obscenely. “don’t think you deserve it, sweetheart. Still have to give me what I want.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

if you’d like to be tagged in future fics, inbox me! <3

#liam gallagher smut #liam gallagher imagine #liam gallagher x reader #liam gallagher blurb #oasis imagine #oasis smut #oasis fanfiction #oasis x reader #britpop fanfiction #britpop x reader #britpop smut

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mitsukui · 3 years

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late night experiences | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary: learning new things is always better when it is done with someone else.

Word Count: 2,7k.

Warnings: smut! Masturbation, mentions of innocence kink.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Your last year at Hogwarts rushed into your life without warning — and so did your sexual hormones. You swore to Merlin you could feel them tingling all over your body whenever you solely looked at George Weasley, your majestic boyfriend. And apparently, he felt the same way towards you. Wondering the reason behind it all, you were quick to blame the fact that the two of you had just turned 18.

You had been together for a little while now: around nine months or so. But nothing had ever happened, and you were not quite sure why. You two had, supposedly, everything needed: steamy make-out sessions, wandering hands, lustful thoughts, privacy, and all that jazz. Yet, there you were: ground zero.

However, things were about to change even though you still were unconscious about it.

“Psst!” Your favorite quill stopped scribbling your Herbology notes. “Oi!” Your eyes gazed at the direction from which came the voice only to realize it was one of your classmates, Angelina Johnson. “I’ve discovered something last night which I thought you might be interested in.” A mischievous smirk painted her lips as you leaned in closer, already feeling eager to listen to whatever she had to say. She was one of those people who made anyone pay attention to them whenever they said something.

Her hushed whispers filled the existing silence between you two in the Study Area once more. “The boys were talking in our common room last night, and rumor has it George can’t keep his hands off of his cock whenever he thinks of you.”

Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet giggled like little girls when she finally finished her speech. You could feel your cheeks getting embraced by a deep and violent warmness. Uh-oh.

Your mind suddenly produced images by itself: George’s chest going up and down quickly as he moaned under his breath. He had his long and slender fingers wrapped around his dick and, sweet Merlin, he was big. Big and thick and veiny. His eyelashes fluttered as his hand pumped up and down a few times, precum leaking from his tip.

Heaven probably looked like that. What a lovely sight. You would give anything to actually see the great George Weasley in such a position. But, again: ground zero.

Still, the possibility of him pleasuring himself at the thought of you seemed to awake something new inside your chest and offer you a novel tingling sensation. You felt a burning flame in your loins, and it was almost as if your entire body were on fire.

You wanted him to jerk off thinking of you. You wanted his hands to get dirty from his own seed because of you.

You gulped. Snapping fingers brought you back to reality. “Girl, it’s high time you gave that poor lad some love, you know.”

The next few days felt slow and eternal. George Weasley and George Weasley’s thick dick were the only things occupying your mind. Of course, you had fantasized about him before; but it had never been that vivid. Things are always better when they are real, after all.

And you wanted to do something about it. Your soul ached for him to share his hidden and erotic reality with you. Your flesh longed to be painfully close to his. Your body and your hands desired to tease him and give him something to be unbearably hard over. You obviously would not feel in peace until you got what you wanted.

That is why the suggestion of a late night meeting in the Prefect’s Bathroom came to life. It was discussed during another of your studying session with Angelina, Alicia and Katie, being first brought on by Angelina, of course. That girl had many wild cards up her sleeve.

“I happen to know the password. Got it from a Slytherin guy, after giving him a few galleons.”

“And a blowjob, too.” Alicia responded with her eyebrows raised and a mischievous grin hanging on her lips.

As the three other girls laughed carelessly, seeming to be extremely relaxed and confident to talk about such a topic, you chewed on your bottom lip. Jittery feelings bubbled up within your veins while concern clouded your mind. You had a severe lack of inexperience when it came down to anything sexual.

Your temporary anxiety was sharply noticed by Katie, who positioned her hand over yours in a comforting act. Her fingers soothed your skin, her next words slipping out of her lips as motherly advice.

“Don’t feel pressured to do anything, honestly. George is one of the most understanding people I have ever met. But I think a little bit of intimacy would work wonders on you, both of you.” Her grip on your hand became a bit tighter, and her warmth was incredibly pacifying. “You know, just suggest going to the Prefect’s Bathroom tomorrow night. He will surely accept, once he is heads over heels for you. Get in the warm, bubbly water. Kiss him, if you feel comfortable enough for that. And just see where it goes.”

Your other two friends nodded, assuring you everything was alright and that you could always count on them for support and advice. The conversation went on for a little longer, they sharing intimacy tips and encouraging you.

Luckily enough, the next morning was one that you had classes with George. You brought on the subject in the end of the lesson, while he gathered his material quietly.

His lips opened up in a bright smile in the moment you appeared in front of him, but his expression was soon destroyed by your visible tensed posture.

“Hey, gorgeous. Are you alright?”

You sighed shortly, trying to relieve some of your internalized insecurities. The suggestion came out of your lips in a mere murmur, but he was smart enough to grasp onto all of your words. His eyes noticed your dodging gaze and your fidgeting fingers, playing with the hem of your tie. You looked absolutely adorable to him.

“See you later tonight, then. Prefect’s Bathroom, 12AM sharp. I won’t be late.”

The rest of the day felt like an eternity. Perhaps, it was the uncertainty of it all, given that there was no way to predict how the scenario would take place later on. But the time for your meeting agonizingly came, and you were forced to leave your dormitory.

The weather was unpleasantly hot, and it was hard for you to tell whether it was due to the time of the year you were going through, or to the fact you were walking towards your own doom.

You had been curious and tempted to get to know his darker and more lustful façade but, at the same time, you were ashamed of how much you craved him despite being your first time feeling anything like that. Those same novel tingles from before returned to your loins as your made your way to the fifth floor.

Underneath your favorite carmine red pleated skirt and a muggle band T-shirt, you wore a set of lingerie that had not received much attention when previously picked out, which was a simple white bra paired with white panties, covered in tiny pink strawberries. When you were about to reach your destination, you came down to the realization of how childish your underwear looked. You inhaled sharply, concluding you had ruined everything.

Eventually, you and George met, and entered the bathroom hand in hand.

Although you had heard of its wonderful interiors, seeing everything with your own eyes for the first time made you gasp. Your gaze traveled through the place, and you wished to engrave every detail in your heart. The white marble grandness awoke a sense of greatness and admiration inside you, and you almost fell to your knees right then and there.

A tad of small talk was exchanged between you and your boyfriend, until he approached you at last. His big hands cupped your delicate face, and he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips were so terribly gentle that they sent butterflies to your stomach. He showed no shyness in the second his hands roamed down your body and found your back, giving your ass a light squeeze. Unable to control yourself, you moaned and pressed your body against his.

A steamy make out moment was held between the two of you until the moment for the truth hovered over your heads. He rested his forehead against yours, and looked at you with loving eyes as his thumb ran over your lips.

“Tell me why we are here, darling.”

“It’s just that…There had been this rumor, you know?” A shy chuckle escaped your lips, and you closed your eyes, trying to block out all the filthy images suddenly appearing in your mind. “People have been saying that you jerk off thinking about me. But I’m not sure if it’s true or not, because we have –“

“It is true.” The coolness in his voice caught you off guard, and you blinked at him in a mixture of shock and self-induced accomplishment: your boyfriend touched himself at the thought of you.

Your eyelashes fluttered until your eyes were shut, and a sigh escaped your lips. Your mind knew no restrains at that moment, and the images you had been blocking out came to life all at once, violently crashing against your insides, almost like agitated waves at a beach.

Silence embraced the two of you again, but neither of you felt bothered by it. You took your time to let the sinful images sink in, and he took his time to study your face. You had been clearly affected by the truth he had just spilled out, and he secretly enjoyed such thing. He could read you like the palm of his hand, and he knew you were thinking about him with his dick out.

As he breathed heavily, fearing air would forever leave his lungs after what he was about to do, he prepared himself for what was about to come. His thumb ran over your slightly swollen lips but, this time, he parted them with a gentle tug on your lower lip. George timidly shoved his thumb into your mouth, and you, with your eyes still closed, took all of it.

Your tongue swirl against his finger, the feeling of your saliva dancing against his skin sending electrical waves down his spine. You continued on sucking him until your cheeks finally hollowed, and he pulled his finger out with a low ‘pop’ noise.

You opened your eyes in a deep frustration, but he could no longer take it. His cock was hard inside his trousers and it battled for its freedom. He breathed unsteadily and with a bit of difficulty, his mind starting to wonder how your lips would feel wrapped around his tip.

The realization that you two had never done anything before hit him hard, and he felt himself twitching while precum started wetting the fabric of his underwear.

Would it be selfish of him to think he would probably be the first one ever to taste your cunt? The first one to penetrate you, the first one to end your innocence for eternity, the first one to feel your walls clenching around him, the first one to make you cum.

George was forced to step back and groan in bitterness. He really wanted to fuck you, but he would never disrespect you or your limits. Plus, on top of that, he really did not know how he could express his urges.

“S-Sorry, darling. I-I-I don’t know what’d gotten into me, I guess I just lo-“

“Can you show me how you touch yourself?”

The question hung on air for one or two moments. You could not believe what you had just said. You were drunk on a new dizzying and exciting sensation, one that left your panties secretly wet and your clit throbbing, and one which made you ask your boyfriend to masturbate right in front of you.

So he did it. Apparently, Katie was right: George Weasley would gladly accept anything you asked him.

After the enormous bathtub had been filled with water and bubbles, he undressed and you lost all of your senses for a bit.

His fair skin carried grand amounts of both freckles and small scars. His entire silhouette was outlined by groups of yet developing muscles, but each one of them caused more wetness to pool in your strawberries ridiculously covered panties. George was so tall, his shoulders were so broad, and his dick was indeed so big.

When all of his being finally became bare in front of you, you rubbed your thighs together, the need for friction creeping inside your body for the first time ever.

You stood still exactly where you were, but he made his way to the tub, sitting on the edge of the white porcelain. He lowered his dark eyes to his throbbing member and his touch caused a relieved sigh to leave his lips. His hand moved up and down a few times until he looked at you again.

There was something different on his face. His eyelids seemed to be a tad heavier, and the sounds slipping out of his slightly parted lips were the most delicious thing you had ever heard.

George Weasley was jerking off right in front of you. He was moaning only for you. And you hoped he would cum just for you, too.

As the minutes slowly went by the two of you, you watched him quietly. However, it was impossible for him to keep quiet. By now, his moans were loud and shameless. He whispered your name every now and then, the thought of you bouncing up and down his dick providing all the fuel he needed to orgasm only for you.

That was entirely new for you. You felt so dirty, so sinful, so misbehaved, but you were living for it. You wanted more of him, and you also wanted to give George more of you. And that was exactly the reason why you said your next sentence out loud.

“Can I touch myself?”

His ears convinced himself that he had heard it incorrectly, but the way your fingers tugged on your T-shirt, and your thighs rubbed together, he knew he was not mistaken. A new rush of pleasure ran through his veins and he pumped his hand faster. Unable to form coherent sentences, he mumbled something along the lines of ‘please’ and nodded vehemently.

In the blink of an eye, both of your bodies were unclothed and both of you played with your intimacies. George’s right hand applied all the pressure that could possibly resemble your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, and your fingers helped the squelching sounds coming from your wetness to echo in the bathroom. You had never thought that so many lustful sensations could occupy your body all at once and, yet, there you were: masturbating at the sight of your boyfriend doing the exact same.

By now, you also had problems breathing and the tight knot inside your body screamed for a break. You pulled your hand away from your dripping cunt, but you remained connect to your womanhood by a very thin and almost invisible string of your juices.

George obviously noticed that tiny detail and it was too much for him. He announced he was close and, soon enough, his skin was stained by the pleasure you had given him. His eyes were closed as he felt his heartbeat increasing and the images of you still haunting his mind.

The way he accepted and let his orgasm work on his body made you move your hand against your clit faster and you followed him in a matter of seconds. Your body trembled and you could not stop whining.

You had never experienced something so astonishingly sensational.

Your pants filled the bathroom for a little while before his body finally slipped into the still warm water. The comfort offered by the setting relaxed his existence and he weakly called and asked you to join him, which you happily agreed with.

He touched your hips and pulled you closer, placing your body against his chest. With his lips pressed against your temple, he whispered a series of ‘thank you’ and ‘you are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen’.

However, his final words changed the mood completely and you hated him for it.

“That’s a nice pair of panties, by the way.”

Tag list! ❤️ @efyra @writingsomewrongs @kellsslut @pineapplesandpinas @fiction-is-the-new-reality @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @emmaev @asthmax @anchoeritic @eunoia-kth

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #🌼 — personal: writings

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brandyllyn · 3 years

Text

To sell your love for peace (01)

Javier Peña x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Summary: You weren’t his type but he was willing to make an exception. Words: 2500

Other Chapters My Masterlist

Rated: Hella Explicit.

Warnings: language. fingering. PiV. prostitution. Javier is a normal amount of asshole.

You were pretty. That was the first thing Javier noticed after you threw open your apartment door. Not the brittle beauty of the girls that he usually preferred, but a basic almost wholesome kind of pretty that he knew a lot of men paid good money for. Javier stepped inside, carefully scanning the street behind him and then guiding you back into your apartment with one hand on the base of your spine. He closed the door behind him, being sure to lock it.

You introduced yourself and he nodded. "Javi," he offered, holding a hand out and taking note of the calluses on your fingertips when you took it. He scanned the small living room, taking in the quilt hung on the wall and the small painting of flowers near the kitchen.

"Can I get you a drink?" You asked, hands nervously running down your thighs. He nodded and you disappeared into the kitchen, the skirt of your dress skimming across your thighs. He took in your assets almost dispassionately. You had a cute, girl-next-door vibe. Someone a man could pretend to be in love with for the night.

You probably had more work than you knew what to do with.

The whiskey bottle you held up was exactly what he was hoping for and he nodded at your questioning look. You met him in the living room with two glasses, walking around the threadbare couch and settling onto one end. He sank into the other, shrugging his jacket off.

"Vanessa says you know each other-"

"From work," you finished for him, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before looking away. He was used to this. A lot of men were harsh with the girls, and as a result there could be a hesitancy in women in your profession around unknown strangers. It was important that he made himself as non-threatening as possible.

"From work," he echoed, taking a drink from his glass but not probing on that subject further. "How long have you lived here?"

Glancing around the apartment you shrugged, "A few months? I moved her from Medellín last fall."

Javier made a note of that, sipping his whiskey. "The place is nice, I like the quilt."

You smiled, finally, seeming to relax a bit. "My grandmother made it."

He smiled back, "I have a blanket my great-grandmother crocheted. Ugliest thing you’ll ever see. Old bat was colorblind." You gasped and choked on the whiskey and his grin grew wider. "You okay?"

"Yes," you croaked, holding a hand to your throat. "Just, went down the wrong way." Your eyes met his from under long eyelashes. "My grandmother would murder me if she heard me talking about her like that."

"Mine’s already passed," he shrugged. "I’m not worried."

"I’m sorry." You reached out and touched his knee and then jerked your hand back. He clocked that as well.

The whiskey was good, not expensive by any stretch but not cheap shit either. He watched as you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, glass in one hand. Finally you said, "Vanessa says you’re… that you can pay. For… information."

This was what he had been waiting for. He leaned forward, dropping his glass to the table and turning his body towards yours. "That depends on the information."

You swallowed and nodded to yourself. "I know some… I heard something. About…"

He knew this dance as well. Knew why you were hesitating. "If you help me I promise to do everything I can to keep you safe."

You nodded again, still not looking at him. "If I knew something about Escobar. And his plans. That would be worth something?"

"If it turns out to be true," Javier raised an eyebrow. "If it helps us, then yeah. It’s worth something."

You nodded, silently staring into your glass.

"Do you know something?" he asked, watching your face. You stared into the distance before the words tumbled out.

"There’s a hit. On Friday. The Minister of Finance."

Javier blinked. He knew that. Six weeks of surveillance by the CIA hoping to find a connection for their own purpose had dropped the nugget of information to the DEA. It had taken a lot of wrangling and horse-trading to get the info, and even now he could admit it was more dumb luck than skill that had gotten them the notice.

Dumb luck, skill, and now you dropping it in his lap.

"How do you know that?" He asked and his eyes narrowed when you shook your head at him.

"I can’t- please don’t ask me that."

Also not uncommon. If the relationship continued he’d get it out of you eventually. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pack of smokes, giving you a questioning look and offering one to you. He lit it after you gave permission, letting it dangle from his fingers as he watched you.

"How do I know this is good intel?"

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. "The man, the one who is going to do the hit, his name is Jackal."

Javier sat bolt upright, dropping his cigarette across his empty glass. That was a name he’d only heard a few times. A sicario that had thus far evaded any attempt to get a photo. "How the fuck do you know that name?"

Again you shook your head. "I asked you not to ask me that."

He bit off his retort. If you had a lead on Jackal, even if it was only hearing about him in passing, then he needed you to keep offering him intel. Needed you to trust him and tell him how you knew this. He pulled his wallet out with a grunt, opening it and thumbing through the contents. Javier looked at you through the cigarette smoke as he dropped a twenty onto the table.

"Until I can confirm," he paused and looked you over. You weren’t really his type. He liked his girls primped and preened, long nails and perfect makeup. But then again, there was something about the smooth skin that your dress showed, the curve of your thigh, the way he could see your nipples pebbled against the fabric. You weren’t his type but he was willing to make an exception. Slowly raising an eyebrow, he held your eye as he counted out another sixty bucks. "Yes?"

You nodded, licking your lips, the action making his cock stir. He added another twenty onto the pile, making it an even hundred, before folding the remaining cash and shoving it back into his jacket. "Drink up," he motioned at your glass, picking his cigarette up and taking a puff.

"You’re beautiful," he said conversationally and you choked again. His brow furrowed. It was just something to move the night along. To get out of the idea of you being an 'informant' and back into your day - well night - job. The girls usually liked it when he complimented them, winking at him and offering to show him all of their beautiful parts. But you seemed flustered and your chest heaved.

It was an amazing act.

"Can I kiss you?" A standard question. Every girl had a different standard for what they were willing to do - the intimacy they were comfortable with. Judging from your look and demeanor - your schtick was 'hometown sweetheart'. Javier was pretty sure the answer would be yes.

Sure enough you nodded and he carefully set his cigarette to the side, shuffling across the couch and cupping his hand behind your neck. Pulling you closer to him and gently pressing his mouth to yours. Your lips parted on a gasp and he took advantage of it, thrusting his tongue deep and licking inside of you.

You smelled sweet. Tasted it too. He was used to women who tasted like cigarettes, maybe alcohol - just like he was sure he did. But you tasted like sugar and he delved his tongue deeper into your mouth to chase it. He wondered, idly, if you would taste as sweet all over. If maybe tonight would be the night to break his general distaste on going down on a hooker. He always thought, in the back of his mind, that he would end up with a mouthful of someone else’s cum if he did.

He didn’t begrudge you your profession, but there were some aspects of it that frankly didn’t interest him.

You moaned softly and he wrapped his arms tighter around you, guiding you backwards until you spilled down onto the couch. He slipped his hand under your shirt to palm at your breast, your back arching up to him with a small gasp. Oh, he liked that. The air of inexperience rather than the usual carefully orchestrated arches and moans. He thrust his tongue into your mouth, finding your nipple with sure movements and rolling it between his fingers.

You cried out, your hands tugging at the strands of his hair and your thighs parting so he could settle more firmly between them. His lips ghosted down your neck, digging his teeth into the soft flesh and you trembled. You fucking trembled and Javier made a mental note that he had gotten a deal with the hundred he had dropped for you.

His hands pulled at your clothes and you dropped your own to help, pushing the top of your dress down. Reaching behind his neck he pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering with the buttons, and then leaned down and pressed his chest to your bare skin.

"Fuck you feel good," he groaned into your mouth, tongue darting out to taste you once again. Your fingers skimmed down his spine, slipping beneath the band of his jeans and then rising back up. He wanted your hands on him and he reached behind himself to catch one of your wrists, dragging it between your bodies and pushing it beneath the denim. Your touch was soft at first, hesitant, but a thrust of his hips pinned your fingers between his cock and your stomach and he could rock himself into your palm.

It took very little adjustment to press his mouth to your breast, to pull your nipple into his mouth and tug. Your hand clenched around his cock and you let out a soft whine that sounded almost like his name. He grinned, moving to your other breast, rubbing his cheek to your soft flesh.

"You smell like cookies," he groaned, licking underneath your breast and then up to your neck. "Fuck, how do you smell like fucking cookies?"

"It’s vanilla," you gasped and he pressed his nose to your neck, inhaling the soft scent. It reminded him of home, of lazy weekend mornings and a domesticity he had left behind in Laredo. Powdered sugar on almond dough and canned preserves pulled out for Sunday breakfast.

Fuck he definitely hadn’t paid you enough.

He shifted his weight on the couch, reaching down to stroke up your thigh. He felt you shiver and then his fingers met soft cotton. Soft, damp, cotton.

"Oh sweetheart," he pressed his lips to your cheek, pushing the fabric aside and running his hand through your slick heat. "You’re so wet. For me?"

You didn’t answer but your thighs parted further and his thumb slipped over your clit. He heard you gasp, pulled back to see you bite your lip and arch your neck.

"Can you come for me pretty thing? Come on my fingers before I fuck you?"

The hand that was in his pants shifted, fingers wrapping around his cock more fully and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder and matched your movements, slipping two fingers inside of you. Felt you squeeze around him even as your hand tightened and slid across his cock. If he wasn’t careful he was going to come in his jeans like a fucking teenager.

He sat back on his heels, using his free hand to pull your hand out of his pants. With a careless twist of his wrist he flipped your skirt back and tugged your panties to the side. "Oh that’s a pretty little pussy," he growled, "you think you can take three?" He didn’t wait for a reply, pulling your hips up so they rested on his thighs and then slipping three fingers deep inside you. You reached over your head with both arms, twisting your hands into the pillow under your head. The action lifted your breasts up higher and Javier wished he had a third hand so he could pinch your nipples while he played with you.

Three fingers in your cunt, two fingers of his other hand rubbing across your clit. He could fucking hear how wet you were for him, felt your muscles clench around him, your knees rising further to his sides. "Yeah, fuck baby that’s it."

He wouldn’t say you screamed when you came. The sound was lower than that, more of a helpless cry than anything else. Your mouth opened in a perfect 'O' - a shape made to take his cock. Maybe next time. Right now, he wanted to be inside of you.

His jacket was on the floor and he retrieved a condom while you were still recovering, slipping it on and giving himself a couple of short tugs. Leaning forward and propping one hand on the pillow next to your head, he pushed your panties to the side. Lining himself up and slowly sliding inside of you.

You had been tight on his fingers, on his cock you fit like a fucking glove. He pressed all the way, watching your face as you took every inch of him. The way your forehead crinkled and you bit your lip. Then your eyelashes fluttered open and you met his eyes.

Fuck, you smiled at him.

He fell across you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth and taking you hard and fast. He could feel your nails raking down his back, your legs lifting to wrap around his hips. He wanted to make you come again, wanted to feel you shudder and moan beneath him.

But your hands came up to cup his face and you moaned "Javi" directly into his mouth and he fucking came. Body hunching over yours as he cursed and grunted, fucking hard into you and then dropping his forehead to yours.

"Fuck I’m sorry," he mumbled, kissing you softly.

"For what?"

He groaned and pulled out of you, leaning back to the other side of the couch and stroking his hand along your calf. "I’m not usually such a fucking two-pump chump."

You pulled a blanket from the back of the couch, tucking it under your arms and covering your legs before sitting up and placing your hand over his. "Maybe… maybe we try again?"

Javier leaned his head back and shut his eyes. How the fuck did that make him feel worse? "No, I have to go. There’s something I gotta… anyway. I can’t stay."

"Oh."

He turned and looked at you, reaching out and chucking you lightly under the chin. "Maybe next time?"

Your smile was bright enough to light up the fucking city. For just a moment Javier felt like he was the only man in Bogatá.

God damn you were good at this.

Pt 2

Taglist:

@hnt-escape, @kesskirata , @supernaturalgirl , @notabotiswear , @wonderlandgabby , @pascalesque

#narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x you #javier pena #javier peña imagine

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chubbunnyy · 3 years

Text

Baking Gone Right

This is for @heart-shaped-cheerios chubs n’ rolls collab !!!! I should have the Iida one out later tonight, I hope everyone enjoys, this was a super fun collab.

WARNINGS || NSFW, oral (f. receiving), female reader

“You brought everything I asked you to, right?” You questioned Kirishima as he walked into your kitchen. He was clutching 2 very full plastic shopping bags. “Yeah! I got it all last night, just to make sure it was as fresh as possible!” Kiri gently set the bags on the counter. “I’m going to start preheating the oven and getting all our dishes and utensils that we need.” You set the oven to 375º and grabbed your automatic whisk and a small pink spatula. Kiri studied you as you swiftly danced around the kitchen. He knew how seriously you took baking, it was something you were really good at. You always talked about how you wanted a baking partner, Kiri thought you would never ask him because he was completely clueless when it came to working with an oven but later that week you invited him to your house, asking him to bake with you. “Eiji, could you start cracking those eggs for me?” You asked, breaking the silence. “Yeah sure babe!” Kiri eagerly grabbed the carton of eggs, ready to help. “Make sure to not get any egg shells in the yolk, okay? If you do make sure you pick them out, we don’t want an egg shell cake.” Your boyfriend nodded and began carefully cracking each egg, letting the yolk spill out into the bowl below. “Y/n is this good?” Kiri asked, showing you the bowl full yolk. You nodded. “It's perfect Ei!” You hopped onto your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.

You both continued working for another 5 minutes until the oven beep interrupted. “Time to put the cake in!” You announced. You and Kiri both dumped the chocolate mixture into 3 large cake pans. “Ei, can you wipe the counter off while I put these in the oven?” You asked, picking up a cake pan. Kiri nodded and grabbed a wet washcloth from the sink. As Kiri began wiping you bent down to put the pans into the oven. Your plump ass peeking out from underneath your dress. Now Kiri’s full attention was on you. You bent over to put the final pan in the oven, he could see your black lacy panties. A tent formed in Kiri’s sweats as he approached you. “Okay, now we have to wait abo-oh!” You turned around and bumped right into Kiri’s chest. Had he been behind you this whole time? “I love watching you bake. You’re so focused. It’s cute.” Kiri smirked as he cupped your cheek. A light blush dusted his cheeks, he pressed his hips into you. You felt your face heat up as his hardened cock pressed into your soft flesh. “That apron is a damn good look on you.” Kiri mumbled and pulled you into a heated kiss. You stumbled back into the counter as your tongues intertwined. Kiri lifted you up onto the countertop as he started to kiss down your neck. “I think for now we’ll leave the apron on.” He mumbled into your neck. His hands travelled across every inch of your plump frame. His fingers touched and squeezed every bit of your body fat they could until they found the elastic band of your panties. Kiri got onto his knees as he slid your panties off. “I’m gonna make you feel so damn good, baby.” He grinned before dragging his tongue over your exposed cunt. You gasped and dug your fingers into his bright red hair. “Eiji, oh my god.” You whimpered as he flicked his tongue on your clit. You bucked your hips up into his face, desperate for more. Soon enough his thick fingers found your empty cunt. Kiri pushed one in, causing you to pull his hair. Kiri groaned, sending vibrations to your clit. “Eiji, I wanna cum so bad!” You whined. Kiri chuckled, “Then cum baby. Cum in my mouth.” He demanded. As if almost on command you reached your high. Kiri removed his fingers and licked every drop of cum that spilled from your sopping pussy. “God, you’re such a good girl.” Kiri pulled your panties back on just as the oven beeped. You hopped off the counter, smiling as you started to take the cakes out. “Don’t think we’re done yet, y/n. Just wait until those cakes are decorated.”

#chubs 'n rolls collab #kirishima x plus size reader #kirishima eijirou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirishima x reader #kirishima x chubby reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #mha x chubby reader #plus size reader

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ascarimo · 3 years

Note

Can you possibly write something spicy with Lando?? Like after his podium maybe.

Hey Anon ❤️ as my requests are currently closed I’ll just post something that I’ve written on my wattpad recently!

A/N: this one shot was requested on Wattpad and is published in my book One Shots IV on my account @ curvaparabolica

WARNINGS: nsfw (unprotected sex)

38. "Ride me baby"

40. "I want you to tell me how good it feels"

After a couple hours of streaming, Lando finally managed to say goodbye and log out of Twitch. He was tired actually and he leaned back in his chair while his computer was updating before it would shut off. Lando looked over at the door as he heard it opening and he stood up to place his headphones on his desk. "Hi," you chirped, standing in the door way in one of his oversized McLaren sweaters, your hair up in a bun. "Hey," Lando replied with a chuckle. "Are you done?" you asked and he nodded, stretching his arms above his head and your eyes briefly glided to the hem of his shirt that rode upwards and exposed a part of his tummy. "Finally though, I was getting tired," Lando yawned next and you smiled at him. You looked at the way the purple, orange, yellow-ish light of his logo lit him up. There were no other lights on in the room and you loved the coloured LEDs on the wall.

"What are you doing here, baby?" Lando asked, looking down at you when you moved further into the room and pushed the door closed behind you. "Enjoying the lights," you simply replied, making his heart beat a little faster. You had called it 'mood lighting' before and you had teased him about, however he couldn't deny that he hadn't thought about getting it on here in his streaming room. No computers, camera's or microphones on of course. "Is your computer shut off?" you asked subtly, folding your hands behind your back while tilting your head as you looked back up at him. "Mhm," Lando hummed, sitting down in his chair again. "Did you have something in mind?" he continues and you slowly nod. You approach him meanwhile and his hands slip onto your thighs under the sweater you were wearing, pulling you into his lap. Lando felt the goosebumps rising on his skin when your hands cupped his cheeks.

Your fingertips traced his cheekbones, admiring the way the toned lights fell onto his skin and gave his feature that slight erotic hint that caused the arousal to rush through your veins. His hands wandered from the back of your thighs over your bum, his palms squeezing the cheeks and pulling you closer towards his crotch. Your back arched lightly when his fingertips traced up your spine, a breath hitching in his throat when noticing the band of your bra was missing on your back, automatically causing him to harden underneath you. One of his hands moves to the side of your face and he pulls you down for a kiss. The connection of your lips spread the warmth through your body. All he wants is your lips on his, your body close, the purpose of the kiss blooming in his chest and the pit of his stomach. Your hips slowly start to roll down on him, his tongue gliding across your lower lip before deepening the kiss.

Your fingers slipped into his curls, tugging on the roots of his strands and it made him elicit a low moan against your mouth. Lando sat up a little more, the kiss became firmer as his hands curled around your waist, pressing against your lower back to keep you close. His lips feel warm and swollen when you part, but only to lean forward and let your lips skim down his broad neck, the perfect canvas to leave your marks on. Remembering he was going to Italy at the end of the week, you sighed softly against his skin, grazing your teeth over his pulse, but leaving behind the love bite you wanted to decorate his neck with. Lando tugged on the sweater on your body, wanting it off. You sat back to fulfill his plead, dragging the soft material over your head and leaving it to fall onto the floor. His eyes had darkened already, his touch soothing when his hands wandered up your blistering hot skin.

"Take it off," you hummed, pulling on the collar of his shirt and it made him chuckle lowly. Lando reached back for his shirt, tugging it over his head in a swift move only boys could. You ran your hands over his muscled arms, making him sigh softly as he enjoyed your touch. Lando looked up at you, bathing in the neon lights on his wall. A smile curled his lips when you flinched slightly as his fingertips tickled your sides, but only to touch your curves and play with the hard pearls of your breasts. You let out a soft moan, a shiver running up your spine when Lando leaned forward to kiss your collarbones, down to the swell of your cleavage. His calloused fingertips on your nipples feel incredibly, sweet sparkles tingling between your legs. Your hands reached for his face again, kissing him once more while his touch continued to drive you into a frenzy. Lando sneaks one of his hands between your thighs, making you gasp when squeezing the flesh, cupping your clothed heat teasingly.

You're distracted by the kiss, his taste of which you can't get enough while Lando pushes your thong aside, two of his digits running through your folds and gathering your slick. You tremble slightly when he brushed them over your swollen clit, your arms curling around his neck. He repeated the action a couple times, but as he noticed that you were soaking, he didn't leave you waiting any longer. Lando's head nuzzled into your neck, his lips pressing against your skin while his fingers opened you up, pushing past your entrance and curling upwards before withdrawin slightly, then doing it again. He loved the way your hips were still grinding a little, but now on his fingers. Lando looked up at you, watching your blissed out expressions while your face was glowing with the sheen layer of sweat and the lights in the room. "You look so hot right now, love," Lando muttered, his teeth finding your shoulder, leaving a gentle mark while you squirmed on top of him.

Lando felt your walls getting slicker with each thrust of his fingers, pulling the moans from your throat. His thumb pressed against your clit, stimulating the nub of nerve endings by drawing endless patterns on it. You whimpered in dismay when he withdrew his fingers from you, looking eagerly how he licked his fingers clean next. Your hand wandered down his abdomen, sneaking into his sweats and passing the waistband of his boxers. Your mouth nearly wattered at the feeling of the veiny skin of his cock, wrapping your palm around his girth while pushing his sweats and his underwear out of the way. Lando's abdomen clenched when you started stroking him, making his hand reach for your face to pull your head down. His lips brushed over yours and you gazed into his hooded eyes. "Ride me, baby," his voice was low, hoarse and you clenched around thin air at solely the thought.

You lifted your hips a little higher, impatience burning through your body by now. You craved the full feeling of him, lustful for his tight grip on your waist and the grunts he'd let out. Lando gnawed his teeth into his lower lip when you start to lower yourself on him. You're hot and your walls construct around him, making you impossibly tight, the feeling of you around him simply divine. The stretch of your walls feels heavenly and you sigh when he's fully sheathed inside of you. His fingers curl around your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin in hope that you'd start moving soon. You lift your hips again, long strokes up and a slow descent, Lando could feel his stomach clenching in excitement. You swivel your hips to your heart's content, sweet whimpers leaving your mouth as you took the time to pleasure yourself on his cock. "I want you to tell me how good it feels," Lando gritted lowly, a moan received in response.

Your head rolls back while his hands hold your waist a little tighter, the roll of your hips causing the crown of his cock to be perfectly angled against your g-spot. "So fucking good," you breathed. Lando felt the warmth building up in his lower abdomen, the coil tightening and about to snap. Your walls were so warm and tight around him and you looked so gorgeous on top of him like that. "F-fuck," he cursed, starting to guide you faster onto his cock, his thumb brushing over your clit causing you to see stars. You hold onto his arms for leverage, your nails digging into his biceps. The sweet, familiar shimmers of your orgasm start to sparkle in the pit of your stomach and your walls clench around him tightly. Lando curses more under his breath, his eyes fixated on the place where your bodies connect over and over again. Your moans become louder, the pitch of your angelic sounds a little higher.

He looks up at you when a cry of his name leaves your lips, your body convulsing on top of him and you tremble into your orgasm that makes you feel fuzzy through your whole body. Lando pushed deeply inside of you before spilling against your inner walls, the feeling prolonging your orgasm while his head nuzzles into your neck. Lando catches his breath and then left soft kisses on your skin. "You were right," he suddenly speaks up, causing your brows to lace together when you lift his face, tracing his jaw with your thumb. "About the lights. They're definitely mood lights," he said and it makes you giggle. "You look so beautiful, you're glowing," Lando continues. "I'm sweating, you mean," you chuckled, but he shakes his head. You winced a little as you tried to get off the chair and he understood that you were sore, which made him lift you up to take you to the bathroom, where you could get cleaned up.

Lando gathered the spilled clothes meanwhile, carrying them while he had the door handle in his hand, reaching for the lightswitch with a grin on his face.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando #mclaren #lando norris smut #lando norris one shot #lando norris blurb #f1 fanfiction #wattpad

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babayagakeanu · 3 years

Text

Some of that good lovin’

Pairing: Johnny Depp/Reader

Warnings: nsfw 18+, tour bus sex, Johnny being a sexy goofball as usual, subtle mention of breeding kink

Summary: johnny needs some good lovin’ after the last show

requested by a lovely lil anon

You could feel Johnny’s guitar riff reverberate off your body, the pride evident in the big smile that’s on your face, and as Johnny’s eyes land on you backstage, he throws you a saucy wink, making you clench your thighs together in order to keep the horniness at bay. He had asked you to come on his last tour with him before the band takes a break in between to put out some new material, and you’ve never seen London, so you had to indulge him.

The show finishes, and the crew thanks the crowd, disappearing backstage and Johnny greets you with a hearty kiss and a warm embrace.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” You greet Johnny, giggling at how elate he was to have you in London with him. His large hands rub at your hips, squeezing at the round flesh of your ass. “Hmm, by the looks of it, that baby I’m gonna put in you, tonight.” His hand lands a sharp slap on your ass, causing you to jolt in his arms, gasping at the crudeness in his voice. He’s never been too vocal about sex, it’s something that he likes to keep between you and him, but maybe it’s the few scotches he’s been sippin’ on between breaks and before the show.

“Johnny,” you whine, “other’s might hear you.” You rub his chest, knowing it’s something he loves, usually telling him that you want some of that good lovin’. His deep laugh vibrates against the warm palm of your hand, and without warning, he bends down to scoop you and throw you over his shoulder, ignoring your squeal of surprise.

“John Christopher! Put me down, right now.” It wasn’t long till you reached the tour bus, Johnny throwing you down on the queen bed that lay in the back of the bus, closing the door and putting the privacy lock on. Alice, Joe, and the others left for the bars to party and if you’re being hones, you plan to fuck Johnny all night.

“You better keep your promise about that baby, Depp.” You had planned to surprise him with some new lingerie tonight, and he has no idea so you couldn’t wait to see his face when he unwrapped you. You had settled on this black lace number; a balconette bra with little bows on the straps, complete with laced crotchless panties. It was something more extravagant than he’s seen you in, and you couldn’t contain the excitement building up inside you.

“Oh, sweetie. Have I not ever kept any promise?” He crosses the room in long strides, loosing the loose v-neck before reaching the bed. You marveled in the site that was your Johnny, has he been working out more? He kept himself in shape, that’s for sure, but he was even more toned, and his pecs popped a little bit more. Your mouth was practically begging to taste him, and once his lips were on yours, you weren’t planning on stopping. Your lips and teeth clash together in a frenzied haste, tasting and dipping into each other’s mouth to satisfy your cravings for one another. He tasted like scotch and a finished cigarette from earlier, and you craved more than just a taste from him.

“You taste like heaven,” you say, gasping in between kisses, and the moment you waited for finally arrives. You push him off of you, flipping him over to straddle him. You wiggle out of the ill fitted corset top you were wearing, and watched as Johnny’s lust-filled eyes grew darker as they land on your breasts spilling over the bra. He sits up, his hands smoothing up your hands to cup your breasts. Cheekily, his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your breasts, growling as he does so, and your hips reflexively thrust into his, moaning as your cunt meets his clothed member.

“Johnny, baby, take my pants off. It’s a little hard since they’re leather.” You were lying, because they were pleather pants, and you knew Johnny had an inkling to your lie because as he takes your pants, he notices the small area that your underwear isn’t covering and almost loses his self-control. “You little minx, you had crotchless panties on this whole time and didn’t tell me?”

“wanted you to focus on your music. Surprised?” You grin up at him, hands moving down to touch your cunt, moaning up at him. His growl seems to shake off the walls, and as his head dips down to taste your slick cunt, your hands reach to grab at his growing locks.

“Surprised is an understatement, my dear. Tonight going to long, hard, and rough.” His hand comes to wrap around your neck, slightly adding pressure. “You up for it?”

“Less talking, more keeping to your promises.” His grins is alike to the Cheshire Cat as he moves his face closer to your cunt.

“Sounds good to me, princess.”

#anon request #justiceforjohnnydepp #prompt fic #johnny depp x reader #smut #johnny depp smut #johnny depp #im sorry its hot trash

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ibelongtowrath · 4 years

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Repent - Simeon x Reader (Obey Me!)

A/N: I got an idea for a dominant Simeon and decided to combine it with a request I had. I will see all of you in hell. Prompt: “You have no idea how badly I want you.” Pair: Simeon x Fem!Reader Tags/warnings: NSFW/18+, dominance, cursing, degradation, oral sex, face fucking, spitting, finger fucking, squirting, choking, rough sex, and a whole lot of sin. NSFW below the cut!

My...why don’t you come to my room tonight, beautiful girl? I’m sure that you will look even more delectable, standing before me. - Simeon

Your hand reaches out, almost hesitantly, placing three quick, light raps on the door. Turning your hand around, nails briefly dig into your palms before fanning your fingers back out, nervously studying the lines etched into the skin. Were you really about to lay with Simeon, one of the holiest of beings?

A few moments later, the lock unhinges with a click. Your heart begins to race, the accelerator stuck to the floor, pedal to the metal as the door opens; painstakingly slow, creaking in the effort. Rendered speechless, your eyes meet Simeon’s, the gentle, tender look in his allowing your shoulders to relax, not realizing you had been carrying so much tension.

“My, my, little lamb,” Simeon chuckles, a soft smile dusting his handsome face. “You certainly are prompt. Please, do come in.”

The Angel gestures for you to step in, closing the door behind you, the familiar click! of the lock almost jarring in the serene quiet of his bedroom. Shadows flicker across the room, painted in the light of the candle as the flames dance, casting a hazy glow in the low light, almost sensual. The ever-eternal darkness of the Devildom looms just outside the window, concealed by heavy curtains. You turn to study him, his features even more handsome in the candlelight, excitement gripping your heart once more.

Simeon pauses briefly, eyes drinking you in before striding slowly over to his nightstand where his D.D.D. rests. Picking up the phone, he crosses back over to you, pulling up a familiarly provocative photo: you, posed, back arching in snow-white lingerie, teeth biting your lip suggestively. Your eyes scan the screen, heart racing as though it might burst, that very same lingerie hidden beneath your clothes.

“Sinner,” Simeon hisses, circling you. “You dare tempt me, a Man of God…an Angel? One of the highest beings in all of the realms?”

The angel’s words drip with venom seemingly laced within every syllable. Goosebumps dart across your skin as your blood turns to ice, a shudder radiating throughout your body. Nervous eyes slowly flit from a set of soft, full lips to the Angel’s intoxicating jade gaze, beautiful enough to get lost in; tonight, though, what appears to be a searing annoyance is etched into his jewel-toned irises.

“Um....,” you stammer, words sticking behind your teeth.

You swallow. The Angel watches you, fighting a battle to conceal the smirk that so badly wants to paint his handsome face. How could you think to tempt him, an Angel? He won’t tell you yet, though, that he wanted nothing more than to tear the clothes off your body, kneel between your legs and taste your sweet nectar upon the receipt of your gift.

Simeon revels in the control he has; though, he is more than aware that he is to be a representative of all celestial beings, destined to uphold standards of purity while in the heart of all that is not pure, in Hell. But, oh, oh...how badly he wants to sheath himself in the constricting warmth of your walls, to taint you with the colors of his sin.

Simeon steps toward you. Your gaze rakes over his body, unable to control the wanton desire flowing deep within your veins. He can feel the yearning, sees it written in the delicate features of your beautiful face.

“I thought you would enjoy it,” you respond, holding steady. “We were just talking the other day, you joked about me tempting you...and you’ve invited me here.”

“And did you think my resolve was so weak that I would give in so easily to such temptation? To bring me to sin?” Simeon bites back. “I am nothing like these demons, these beings with no remorse about committing such acts, acting upon their sins without a shred of inhibition.”

He won’t tell just yet that he, too, aches to indulge you, to give you exactly what you want, for it is exactly what he wants as well. No. Not yet. First, he must make sure you understand: to lay with an Angel, to corrupt him, comes with a price.

It is not as though Simeon had never sinned before. Even the highest of the celestial beings relinquished control to their temptations, and quite often. He certainly was no stranger to it. He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone. The entire Celestial Realm would be at a standstill. No, he would simply ask for forgiveness, as they all did.

In the meantime, he will certainly enjoy playing with his food before he sinks his teeth into your flesh, leaving his mark on you. Demons are not the only beings with sharp fangs.

“What am I going to do with you, my dear?” Simeon muses, his eyes drinking in the sight of you before him.

Simeon circles to your back slowly, almost achingly so, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. He reaches out with a hand, weaving the fabric of your shirt between his fingers and tears it off your body, smirking as you gasp in surprise.

“Are you surprised at my strength, little lamb?” he asks, injecting his smug demeanor into each word. “Thinking of us Angels as weaker beings compared to your precious Demon Lords, hm?”

He moves to stand before you, fingers dancing up your torso before reaching between your breasts to the band connecting the cups of your bra. He tugs, ripping the carefully-coordinated lingerie in two; your breasts spill out, and you shiver from the exposure, the room unexpectedly cold as your nipples harden.

Simeon threads his hands into your hair, tugging you forward to his bed. You lower yourself to sit as he pulls your hair again, urging you to lay supine, on your back. You swallow, heart beating rhythmically; the wetness between your legs an obvious indicator of your abundant arousal. As if sensing this, he makes quick work of removing your jeans, sliding a few fingers across your panties, and smirking at the way your excitement seeps into the flimsy fabric.

“Naughty thing...have you no remorse either, just like these demons? Making yourself so wet, so lustful for me?” he purrs, rubbing his fingers harder against your panties and relishing your mewl of pleasure and aching desperation before tearing them off of your body, exposing your glistening heat. “Tsk, tsk.”

Briefly teasing his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves, Simeon steps back, smirking as he walks back to the nightstand. Turning your head to the side, you observe him, admiring the expanse of his back, the cutouts of his top that give a delicious peek at the defined muscles of his v-line. Watching as he pulls out rosary beads, metal glinting in the hazy low light of the room, adorned with a cross.

“Such an insatiable little slut,” he continues. “What exactly have you imagined me doing to you, little lamb? Perhaps you have lain in your bed at night, a hand between your legs, touching yourself to the thought of me doing something like…”

Simeon pauses, lowering himself between your legs, placing featherlight kisses along the delicate flesh of your inner thigh; his teeth sink into the soft skin, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your sinful lips as he makes his way to your sex. His tongue darts out to place a few slow, sensual licks into your sweet arousal, curling his tongue to fully taste your essence as his nails find purchase on your thighs.

“...this?”

He smirks again, your moans like the sweetest melody to his ears.

“You have no idea how badly I want you, pet,” Simeon moans, softly.

His lips linger between your legs for a few blissful seconds before he pulls away, straightening himself and feeling his cock twitch at the sight of you spread open like a forbidden tome. He begins to drag the beads between your wet folds, soaking them in the nectar of your lewd excitement. You keen at the sensation, moaning as the beads massage the swollen bundle of nerves at your core. He leans over you and holds the rosary, slick and shining in the flickering candlelight, against your lips.

“Open your mouth and taste your sin on this sacred relic, sinner,” Simeon commands.

Your lips part, tongue reaching out; taking the beads in, tasting yourself off of them with a moan. Simeon’s cock strains harder against the constricting fabric of his white pants, desperate to give in to his carnal desire and bury himself between your walls. He swallows, urging himself to keep control, to not give in just yet.

He needs to see you struggle just a bit more.

Easily sliding two fingers inside of your dripping heat, Simeon smirks at your lewd gasp, curling them upward to elicit another loud moan. He adds another finger, skillfully pumping and curling in a come-hither motion; your wetness dripping down his hand, spilling onto the top of your thighs.

“Oh, my...someone is certainly excited for me, hm?” he teases, pressing harder against your walls, smirking at your lewd, pleasure-filled gasp.

“First...I will recite a prayer of forgiveness for you, dirty sinner, as I have sincere doubts you know of it,” he spits. “You are not to cum until I am finished. If you do, you will face consequences.”

Simeon increases the pace of his fingers, continually pressing into that sweet spot, letting the sensation overcome you. His cock hardens, straining harder against his pants as he listens to your sweet, sweet moans; thoughts rendering nearly incoherent watching you arch your back in pleasure. His breath hitches as he inhales, closing his eyes and beginning to recite:

“Have mercy on me, O God,

according to Your unfailing love;

according to Your great compassion

blot out my transgressions.

Wash away all my iniquity

and cleanse me from my sin.

For I know my transgressions,

and my sin is always before me.

Against You, You only, have I sinned

and done what is evil in Your sight,

so that You are proved right when You speak

and justified when You judge...”

The Angel feels you tighten around his fingers, your impending release imminent. He continues his ministrations, reciting the prayer for both your repentance and his.

“S-Simeon, I’m going to cum…,” you whine, gasping as your thoughts cloud over with pleasure.

He grins, relishing the way you cry out and arch your back as your release begins to grip you. You shudder, the blazing fire of your pleasure washing over your body as your back arches and body jerks forward.

Simeon smiles, dark and wicked. You moan his name loudly as your fluid arousal gushes from between your legs, dripping down your thighs, making dark wet marks in his sheets; undeniable evidence of your sins displayed before him.

“Oh, little lamb,” he purrs, pulling his slick fingers from you. “I couldn’t even finish my prayer before you came all over my hand like the dirty little slut you are. I did say you would face the consequences if you could not control yourself. Now...”

Fingers threaded through your hair, Simeon tugs you up to a standing position. Legs shaking, you stumble, whimpering in surprise. He turns you around, gently, tracing a finger down your spine painstakingly slow, watching as the goosebumps prick your skin, shuddering in the feel of it.

Your heart pounds, chest rising and falling rapidly, labored with the effort of your panting breath. Hands reach forward, tucking your own behind your back, wrist atop wrist. Cool metal kisses your skin as the Angel wraps the rosary beads around them, binding them together. He leans forward, gently pushing your hair aside before pressing a soft kiss into the back of your neck.

“Face me, beautiful girl,” he whispers into your ear, breath tickling against your skin.

You obey, turning slowly, head down. Simeon tucks a finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze with yours before moving his hand down, fingers lightly wrapping around your throat.

“Kneel,” he orders. “You filthy fucking sinner. Get on your knees before me.”

He squeezes lightly, not enough to hurt but to emphasize before releasing his hand and tightening his grip on your hair as the Angel yanks you down to your knees. Your eyes widen, watching as he begins rolling down his white pants, exposing his swollen length. A nearly feral desire fills you, teeming with need; wanting nothing more than to get close to him, to nibble his hip bones and eyeing his hardness with frantic hunger. He looks down at you, a wicked grin turning up at the corner of his lips.

“You’re just like these demons,” he hisses, “no hesitation before giving in to your desires.”

Gripping his hand tighter in your hair, Simeon pulls your head forward and begins to thrust into your mouth, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to him. His hips move back and forth, achingly slow, groaning in the feeling of his cock ensconced in the wet warmth of your mouth.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth, little lamb, and if you’re a good girl...perhaps I will indulge you, and fuck that tight little pussy. I will fill you with the seed of an angel, and you will be mine.”

Simeon increases the pace of his hips, rocking faster, caring little for your comfort. Desperately trying to relax your throat, a few gags escape your lips. His head drops back briefly in pleasure, groaning as he feels his cock slamming into the back of your throat. Tears form in the corners of your eyes, raining down your cheeks.

“Keep your eyes on me, my pretty little slut,” Simeon commands, bringing his head forward once more. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Your eyes flit to look up at him, face stained with tears as he fucks your mouth, focusing on his beautiful jewel-toned gaze. After a few more thrusts, he groans, tugging your hair and pulling you off of his cock, spit coating your chin as you inhale sharply and deep, relieved at the break.

“Get on all fours on my bed, lamb,” Simeon orders, “in a prayer position. Or is that unfamiliar to you?”

You nod, hands still bound behind your back by the sacred rosary. You rise to your feet slowly, legs shaking slightly, knees reddened, lines etched across them from the wooden floor biting into the skin. You turn around, making your way to Simeon’s bed, immaculately made. Simeon places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you onto the mattress, lowering your head to the pillow. Spreading your legs, you arch your back, backside pointed to the Celestial Realm.

“I suppose you can’t have your hands clasped in prayer before you when they’re bound behind your back,” he laughs. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Simeon removes the beads restraining your wrists, lacing his fingers through yours and squeezing briefly before moving your hands above your head. Removing his own, he intertwines your fingers, wrapping the rosary around your wrists painstakingly slowly before pulling them just barely tight enough to restrict their movements.

Leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck before lowering your head against the pillow. He teases a few fingers between your legs, thumb dancing over your clit. You mewl, pushing back against him, aching to feel him buried to the hilt inside of you.

“S-Simeon,” you whimper.

“You want to know what it’s like to be fucked by an angel, my pretty little sinner?” Simeon asks. “Beg me.”

Keening, you turn your head to look at the Angel behind you. Raw need flowing fiercely, your excitement coating your wet folds and dripping onto the backs of your thighs, shining in the hazy candlelit room as your lips part to beg.

“Please, Simeon, please fuck me,” you whine, voice laced with feverish desire. “I need to be fucked. Please.”

“Good girl.”

Satisfied with your mewling begs, Simeon decides to indulge you; though he also is indulging himself, hardly able to hold back anymore. He thrusts into you roughly, relishing your pleasurable cry of surprise as a smug smirk paints his face, contrasting his otherwise serene beauty.

“You’re so tight and so wet for me, my beautiful sinner,” he breathes, groaning at the sensation.

He moves his hips back and forth achingly slow, allowing you to adjust to the stretch of his cock between your walls. Your own body pushes back against him, desperate for him to go faster, harder, burying himself to the hilt and he grins at your evident eagerness.

“Fuck me harder, Simeon, harder,” you keen, turning your head to the side and moaning.

The Angel chuckles, bending forward, lips next to your ear; his warm breath kissing your skin as he speaks.

“You have been such a good little slut, I will indulge you...though you should be careful what you wish for, pet. We can be equally as relentless as demons,” he murmurs, nails digging into your hips.

His own hips snap into yours at an unforgiving pace, fingers tightening their grip, pulling you back in perfect time with his thrusts. The carnal sound of two bodies coming together pierces the otherwise still quiet of the room, lit by flickering candlelight; casting a sinful shadow across the room.

“Did you imagine this as well, when you touched yourself to thoughts of me at night? My cock buried inside of you, dripping all over me as I bring you immense pleasure?”

You cry out in ecstasy, each slam of his body against yours eliciting a mewling gasp from your lips. Simeon snakes a hand around you, thumb circling your clit. He spits on your back, continuing your song and dance to an animalistic rhythm only the two of you can hear.

“Is this exactly what you wanted, my little lamb? To lay with a Holy Being, so you can say that you’ve laid with the Highest and Lowest of beings in all the realms?” Simeon growls.

Another feral growl of pleasure rumbles from his chest, feeling your tight heat clenching down around him. He rubs your clit faster, thrusting harder, eager to coax out your release; desperate to feel his own.

“That’s right, my beautiful, filthy sinner. Cum for me. Scream my name and fill this Hell with the sounds of your repentance,” Simeon rasps, edging closer and closer to his climax. “Sing it to the highest of the heavens, the holy Celestial Realm. I want to hear that sweet melody of the sinful pleasure I am giving you. Cum for me.”

As if on cue, you shudder, feeling the sweet pleasure of your release ignite, pulsing waves of electricity across your body.

“F-fuck, Simeon!” you moan, pulling against the rosary beads wrapped around your wrists, desperate to curl your fingers into his skin, the floor, anything as your orgasm grips you.

His own release chases yours, the sound of his name from spilling your lips as you are in the throes of ecstasy pushing him over the edge. He groans, filling you with the seed of his sin. Panting, Simeon presses his chest flush to your back, peppering soft kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck as he unties the beads from your wrists. He pulls you into his arms, both of you breathing heavily; his head drops down to crash his lips against yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“My little lamb,” he coos, kissing your cheek, “you are something else.”

Simeon grins at you, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You can’t help but grin back at him, face shining in the afterglow of orgasm. His breath hitches, reaching another hand up to brush his thumb across your lips.

“God help me. I believe I am going to be reciting many prayers of forgiveness in the near future. I hope He doesn’t tire of hearing them.”

#obey me #obey me simeon #simeon obey me #obey me simeon x reader #simeon x reader #simeon swd #swd simeon #obeyme simeon #simeon obeyme #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me lemon

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nikethestatue · 3 years

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The Heirs of Shadow

Prompt: here

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Language and Fluff

Part I

Calanmai

The shadows danced along the obsidian walls of the chamber, jumping and fluttering across the marble floor and the intertwining carved beasts that scaled the width of the room, waving across the walls and the ceiling.

Behind the doors, Elain could feel the pulsating throb of the revelry that was taking place in the opulent halls and loggias of Hewn City. Fire Night. Calanmai. Beyond the onyx-black bowels of the city, up, up, up somewhere in Night Court, the night skies were streaking with falling stars. Starfall.

Starfall was somewhere else though—they had glimpsed it, taken in its beauty, but now, Calanmai was in full swing.

Azriel’s powerful, muscular body strained over hers, his arm gripping her hip so hard, she was sure that it would leave bruises. Not that Elain cared—she loved the marking of his love on her flesh. She loved the lilac bruises that he left on her neck with his lips and teeth, and the outline of his hands on her thighs, her waist, her…everywhere. For a man who was known for his self-control, and who embodied cold, calculated sophistication and cruelty to all those who did not know him well, Azriel, the Spymaster of the Night Court, loved Elain Archeron with an uncharacteristic degree of unrestrained passion and blind, all-encompassing adoration. He was not above kissing her with uninhibited ambition in public, or slipping his scarred hand into her jacket and cupping a handful of her soft breast or pinching her behind when fancy struck him. It struck him frequently. His love was reciprocated, at last, and there was no limit to his indulging of his gorgeous female. His betrothed and his Lady. The glittering band of her betrothal bracelet was testament not only to their mutual love, but also his wealth and the degree to which he was willing to spoil her. In fact, he had picked out every diamond, every amethyst, every pearl that comprised the intricate flower design of the bracelet himself. Gone were the days when he had to hide his love and desire for her, when the only acceptable gift was a dainty necklace of stained glass. In fact, he designed a very similar necklace for her yet again, only instead of glass, it was rubies and pearls and pink diamonds.

The glint of the necklace in fact, bounced against her creamy skin, the pendant sliding between her swaying breasts. He kissed her, slow and hot, watching her body arch beneath him. The kiss was slow, but not gentle, their mouths fusing together in desperation, as if they’ve been apart for too long, that the previous 500 years were unbearable for him and he needed to fill his lungs with her, with her breath, her very soul, as he sucked and sucked on her lips.

Elain’s nails sunk into his broad, thickly muscled shoulders, and Azriel dipped his head, groaning into her throat, dragging his tongue from her hot, pulsating vein back to her lips, sliding back into her mouth. She kissed him back, sloppy and heated, her lips swollen and ruby-red, before pressing the heel of her palm into his chest and pushing at him.

“I want to look at you,” she moaned, her eyelids heavy with want.

He pulled up and did as he was told, settling on his knees and allowing her to trace the skin of his cobbled abdomen with her fingertips. He was running hot and volatile, his dark brown skin gleaming like dirty bronze beneath the faelights, his wings spayed and open behind him, casting shadows on his sculpted, inked shoulders. His soft, inky-black hair fell across his forehead, sticking slightly to his damp skin, and she smiled at him and rubbed her thumb between his eyebrows.

His thick cock glided in and out of her tight glorious heat and he pushed inside of her with an obscene, wet sound, feeling the smooth thrust of his shaft in her.

“My good girl,” he murmured, extracting loud, explicit moans from her parted lips, while his thumb settled on her pulsating, engorged clit, rubbing firmly, with precise, firm pressure. Elain’s head rolled back, her honey-golden hair fanning out over the dark-gray satin of the pillows. She felt overflowing, torturously stuffed with him, which was the most glorious, gorgeous fullness that she could ever imagine.

“Open up for me, beautiful,” he ground out, “so I can ride you like you need,”

Elain obliged compliantly, wordlessly splitting even further for him, as Azriel gripped her thigh and pulled her deeper onto his shaft, while hoisting her leg onto his shoulder.

“Look at us, my love,” he urged, thrusting harder into her, his gaze gluttonous with pleasure and utter satisfaction. Elain could barely lift herself up on her elbows, but she looked between their bodies, watching her splayed pink folds, his member disappearing in and out of her, glistening with their arousal. His long brazen finger thrust alongside his shaft, the fit impossibly tight, but so wonderfully pleasurable.

She squeezed her breasts in her palms, absently fingering her nipples, watching the explicit show between her legs, while Azriel smiled at her and kissed her foot that rested on his shoulder. She bit her lower lip, enjoying the indecent scrutiny with which his eyes skimmed over her body, as both of them watched the workings of his cock inside of her.

“Do you want to taste, my sweet?” he offered, his midnight voice smooth and sensual, encouraging even more debauched behavior from her, and she nodded eagerly.

Licking her lips impatiently, she murmured, ‘yes’ and he rewarded her with a smile, while slowly pulling out of her stretched passage.

“Az, my love,” she moaned, emptied of him, instantly missing the presence of his thick, long member in her, her hole twitching at the loss. But he pulled her up gently by her back of her neck and instantly fed the shaft in her mouth, thrusting deep and far into her throat. She choked softly around him, but swallowed compliantly, sucking his length down into her mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he approved, holding the back of her head and pumping between her lips, watching her watch him. Her eyes, the color of milk chocolate, blinked rapidly, as she struggled against the girth of the member, but sucked on his bravely and eagerly. He enjoyed the sucking, noisy and wet, her tongue working on him constantly, licking their intermingling juices, but then he patted the corner of the bed, and Elain knew what he desired. She scooted over, and lay back on the cool sheets, never releasing the cock from her mouth, holding it tightly in her hand, as she lapped on the broad head of it, playfully dipping the tip of her tongue into the tiny slit.

They’ve been at it for hours now. Calanmai. Fucking, eating, drinking, fucking, fucking. That’s what people did on Calanmai. Elain figured that perhaps, this would be her new favorite holiday. Always to be celebrated here, in Hewn City, her new home.

The Lord and Lady of Hewn City, feared and venerated—that’s what they were. Who would have thought that Elain would love Hewn City, its obsidian beauty, its marble and granite lined ‘streets’, its unbridled opulence, its soaring columns, its ceilings lit up with faelights that were ensconced in chandeliers that were dripping crystals and silver.

They had begun today’s festivities by following its ancient custom of the Great Rite. As the Lady and Lord of the Underworld, they did not need to ‘choose’ each other, for they were already chosen—chosen the moment the Darkbringers acknowledged Azriel as their Commander General, and Rhysand how no other choice but to pass the crown of Stewardship to his shadowsinger. With Keir dead, all assumed that the magic and the power of the Hewn City and the Darkbringers would pass on to Mor, or one of the sons, yet, it skipped the family entirely. The magic of Hewn City left the bloodline of the High Lord, moving over to Azriel’s line. And just like that, Azriel became Prince of Velaris, the Lord of Hewn City, and Elain, his chosen Lady.

Today was the first year they presided over Fire Night, and while Azriel worried about Elain, she reminded him that she was the Lady of Hewn City and therefore, would participate in all rites and rituals, just like Feyre participated in them as the High Lady of the Night Court.

The entire population of Hewn City, tens of thousands of them vibrated and pulsed in anticipation, gathered in the Great Hall, hundreds spilling outside, thousands crowding the balconies and terraces above.

For Elain, it was the initial walk that was the most nerve wrecking. Naked, she was expected to enter the hall and await Azriel’s arrival. But she squared her shoulders, and draped in nothing but jasmine and moonflowers that cascaded down her unbound hair she made her walk, regal and unhurried, as any queen. When he’d arrived, the new Lord and master of the place, the place shook with a different kind of energy.

And then, they joined together on their throne, in front of their subjects, and Azriel rode her long and hard, until she barely remembered that she was being watched by thousands of eyes. She was eager and willing, taking him in any position that he desired, until he filled her with seed and spilled the rest of it upon the stones of his domain, signifying the start of Calanmai.

The insemination was met with wild cheering and Elain felt nothing but prideful satisfaction after the ritual was concluded and his seed dripped down her thighs, for all to see. She was their Lady, the benevolent one, the kind and just one, while Azriel still inspired fear and trepidation in most. The seed that filled her and poured out of her as she walked through the throngs of people, all of whom looked at her with admiration and excitement, was a sign of good things to come. After centuries, perhaps millennia of stagnation, Hewn City would rise again to its former glory. Lady Elain would be the catalyst for it.

Azriel settled atop of her, her head thrown over the edge of the bed, and rubbed the head of the member over her lips, tugging on it slowly, his eyes wide with the anticipation of pleasure.

“I love Calanmai,” she vowed with a joyful sight, and he laughed.

“Indeed?”

She nodded, licking the tip of the member. “You aren’t tired?” he asked, for they’ve been entangled for a while now. She shook her head no. “Tired? Until you, my lord, render me unable to walk tomorrow, then I might consider myself tired!”

“Is this what you want, my girl?” he asked, his voice gravelly and breathy with lust. Beads of liquid dribbled onto her tongue from his straining member. She whined with anticipation, nodding impatiently, while he guided the shaft into her mouth, her position allowing him to slide deeper and deeper and deeper.

There was nothing that Azriel didn’t love about Elain. Nothing. There was no word ‘no’ in his vocabulary when it came to her. She was his strength, his rock, the one person in this world who offered him complete understanding and acceptance, who supported him gently and lovingly through every peril and cataclysmic change that had taken place in their lives.

Sexually, Elain was brave and tolerant, experimental and curious. Every part of her was enticing and sensual, but nothing excited him more than her willingness and ability to take him in her throat, usually, without him even asking for it. Elain surprised him daily, but her voracious sexual appetite was a marvelous, unexpected gift for him. Because it matched his own perfectly.

He gently cupped her hollowed cheek and rubbed his thumb over the warm, flushed skin of her face, murmuring, “you feel so good, my love. So wet and ready for me.”

Elain hummed against his member and gasping and panting, and the vibrations of her mouth against the head of the member had him moaning, his head thrown back. She stroked his muscled stomach, running her palm over the hard, defined ridges, while he began thrusting between her lips, the tip striking the back of her throat with each push. He gingerly cupped her head, her soft, messy locks a tangle in his fingers, and kept it steady, while she allowed him to use her mouth the way he liked it.

Azriel was not a talkative man, and because he was quiet and reserved and cerebral, most assumed that he was a tender lover. He was not.

So when he plunged into her mouth, it was not gentle, though he was always considerate and acutely aware of all her emotions and reactions. Spymaster, after all.

“My good girl,” he began a litany of praise, “you feel so good. My sweet, beautiful Lainey—are you enjoying yourself, my love?” he looked over his shoulder for a moment and a smirk played on his lips. She was clenching her thighs in desperation, gurgling and panting softly around his member, and he pumped harder, clasping her jaw and muttering, “is sucking my cock making you even wetter?”

She attempted to nod, but it was virtually impossible, though he didn’t need confirmation seeing her rosy folds bathed in her arousal. Taking pity on her, he slipped three fingers in her, and they slid in easily and fully, the walls of her sex clutching at them strongly.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asked, his hand working inside of her with quick, deep thrusts, while he used her mouth brutally, watching tears spill down her cheeks from the pressure. She did not respond in any meaningful way, indicating that it was up to him to find his pleasure within her, wherever he wanted. He smiled and caressed her sweaty, flushed face, while she chocked lightly against him, stroking his balls with her usual tenderness. He moaned, especially when he glanced lower and gritted through his teeth, “Love, I can see my cock in your throat,” he gasped, his eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness, cloaked in oily lust. Every time he pushed, the member bulged and imprinted in her throat, and he couldn’t help himself and gently lay his scarred hand on the spot, feeling the vibrations of his dick against his palm. He almost came right then and there, himself panting and gasping for air, and even if this certainly wasn’t the first time he saw his cock protrude in her throat, it never failed to cause some instinctual male reaction in him. His wings flared and snapped open, uncontrollable, guided by nothing but base instinct to show his female who was inside of her. By the Cauldron, if he could stay like this forever, he would.

Alas, he could hold back no longer and with a few well-placed thrusts, he felt Elain’s throat contract on him and that was his undoing. His release swept like a tidal wave over him and came in her mouth, making her groan with feral pleasure as he spilled and spilled into her. He was thinking that maybe Calanmai was his favourite holiday as well.

He collapsed alongside her, his wings a mess beneath him, but he didn’t even care. His breath was ragged and heavy, but she lovingly fed her nipple between his teeth and he sucked, tucking her beside him, murmuring an endless string of ‘I love you’ and ‘thank you’ into the soft, wonderfully comforting globe. She held his head against her breast, moaning sweetly, delighted at his steady sucking, wiggling against him to get more.

Once they’ve calmed down a lit, she kissed his neck, while twisting her wrist before her eyes, watching the sparkling and gleaming bracelet explode with a thousand tiny lights in the shadows of faelights and the fire in the marble fireplace.

“Do you really love it?” he murmured, kissing her hand.

“Being yours…your bride and your Lady is all that I want,” she admitted, “but,” she smiled, “yes, my love, I love it. Isn’t it stunning?!”

He nodded, “I think I did well.”

“I can’t believe that you designed it yourself!” she kissed his chin, then his lips. “What other incredible talents do you possess that I am not aware of?”

He turned onto his back, rearranging his wings in some semblance of acceptable order and tugged her next to him. Running his finger over the bracelet, he said, “well, let’s see—I sing.”

“Uh-uh,” she pouted. “But never in front of me!”

“One day, my sweet, one day,” he teased.

“What else?”

“I enjoy building things…carving wood. I think that deep down, I am just a humble carpenter.”

Her brow furrowed, “have I seen any of your work? Or are you being stupidly humble as usual and refusing to show it to anyone?”

He laughed, amused by her indignation.

“No, I don’t believe that I am stupidly humble when it comes to my work. You might have seen it. Most of it is at Rosehall,”

“Oh, speaking of which—I promised your mother that I would visit!” Elain snapped her fingers, frowning at having forgotten.

He kissed her brow and said, “I am sure she’ll understand. Her daughter-in-law is a Lady of Hewn City,”

Elain smiled at the title.

“Even though,” she insisted, “I love her and I want to visit her. She said that she and the girls had made spice blends and mulled wine over the winter break and she wanted us to have it. And she also promised gifts for Calanmai,”

“You are my gift for Calanmai,” he whispered tenderly and kissed her. “My gift for every day. My gift for life.”

Elain cupped his cheek and kissed him back, running her tongue over his lower lip. She smelled and tasted of him, and he shuddered from the sensation, from the realization of how thoroughly his she was. His gift indeed.

Remarkably, it also made him hard.

Elain smiled and ran her finger down his chest, then his stomach.

“I am sorry, Lainey, I know you are tired,” he scrambled quickly, embarrassed by his response to her. Even by Fae standards, he was no spring chicken—not a green youth to be hardening at every kiss of these sweet, soft lips. Yes, he was a male in his prime, but,

“Once more?” she requested softly, batting her lashes at him and he grinned.

“Whatever my lady wishes,” he nodded with a courteous flair. The he kissed her and whispered into her lips, “tell me what you’d like, sweetheart?”

She chewed her lower lip, contemplating, the action making him ever harder. She found that very hardness at the ready for her, and wrapped her hand around him, rubbing him tightly, as she settled in the crook of his arm and he kissed her again.

“In my bottom, please,” she requested shyly.

Her secret, intimate pleasure that only Azriel was aware of. It thrilled him to know that she found pleasure with him, in him, in many different ways—from the simplest and most mundane, to the very intimate and personal, and only he could provide it for her.

“If that’s alright with you?” she added and he laughed, bringing her closer to his chest.

“I don’t think that I need to be pressured, sweetheart,”

She smiled and he parted her thighs, settling just behind her, muttering in her ear, “will you be a good girl for me? My good girl?”

She nodded, breath hitching in her chest, her breasts rising and falling in anticipation and she flicked her plump nipple with his fingers before biting it softly. She squirmed and her legs fell apart of their own volition, while he pressed his thumb into her clit and ground into it, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure, while he lined his member with her little opening. It was well-stretched from their previous bout, as he’d taken her everywhere in front of their Court, and then again, when they returned here, to their private quarters.

He pushed into her, easing slowly and carefully, and her back arched in his arms, as she pressed her face into his neck, moaning loudly. There was always a bit of pain, especially in the beginning, at the initial breach, and the sharp bite that he received on his clavicle was an indication of just that. She gripped the immense muscles of his shoulder, grunting and moaning into his neck, squeezing his arm so hard, it was sure to leave bruises. He was inside of her, his cock enveloped in such mind-boggling tightness that he ceased all movement, just to avoid coming at once.

He clasped her jaw and made her look at him. Her eyelids were heavy and a love-addled, blissful look settled on her face, while he lightly kissed her parted lips.

“Does that feel nice, my girl?” he asked, finally sliding a bit deeper, each shallow, easy thrust opening her up a little more.

“Az, Az,” she groaned breathlessly, “I can’t…it’s so…ohh,” she swallowed his thumb, still wet with her slick, needing to suck on something while he plunged forward, rocking his hips into her.

“Elain,” he hissed low and winced at the sweet, torturous friction that the walls of her bottom offered to his invading shaft. He pressed her to him, slowly bringing his hips against hers, and finally settling fully inside, while she went still and pliable in his arms.

The ache inside of Elain was particularly wonderful right now, even if she felt like she was being split inside—it always happened for a few moments—while her body spread to accommodate him.

“I fucking love you,” he moaned into her mouth, pulling his thumb out so he could ravish her with his tongue, while he returned back to her clit and stroked steadily.

He did not set an unreasonable pace, but rather moved languidly and deeply inside of her, kissing her to his heart’s desire. She nestled into his arms, stroking and kissing him lovingly, mewing and panting against his thorough, merciless thrusts.

“You feel sublime,” she confessed, watching him squeeze her breast, toying and tugging on the nipple.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” he asked, placing light, tender kisses all over her face. She laughed. “About a minute ago.”

“Good. Because I love you.”

“I love you too, Az,” she wrapped her arm around his neck, and then shuddered in his embrace, stuttering into his shoulder, “yes, yes, yes…like that…”

“You like that, my beauty?” he pumped harder now, knowing that the discomfort and pain were gone and she stretched wonderfully around him, taking him to the balls.

“Yes, yes,” she nodded, eyes shut, pleasure settling and growing somewhere inside of her. She milked and squeezed his cock frantically, urging him to move and give her more, and he did, pounding deeper into that marvelous tightness, against the lush silkiness of her quivering, trembling behind.

“Azriel,” she almost screamed, and then turned and swiftly straddled him, impaling herself with unstoppable determination, her wet, gleaming sex played widely in front of him, her other opening swollen and bursting around him.

Her plump tits bounced as she rode him, unconcerned about anything at this moment, her hair hanging limply over her body, her nails dug into his chest, her hips undulating on his cock.

“Baby, come for me,” he urged her, mesmerized by the wantonness of her creamy, pale body atop of him, the rhythmic bounce of her beautiful ass on his thighs, her determination to take what she needed from him.

With a roar that awoke the beasts, she shuddered and trembled over him, her rectum twitching and squeezing him so hard that he was unable to even work her through her climax, as he arched beneath her and his ecstasy was complete, as he spurted hot and thick inside of her. She went limp and he caught her in his arms, gently squeezing her against his chest and then waiting until the waves subsided for both of them, before kissing her hungrily.

He lay her down and then carefully withdrew, dragging his seed out of her with one long pull.

“Happy Calanmai,” she giggled and kissed him.

“Happy Calanmai, my love,” he stroked her damp hair.

He took her to the bathing chamber then, and they cleaned each other up quickly, for even the stoic Azriel was tired and all he wanted was to snuggle with his love and sleep. With her, he slept. She was his miracle.

By the time they returned to the bedroom, the bed was remade, the sheets changed and the subtle scent of jasmine perfumed the air. The wraiths who served at their court were nothing but efficient.

Elain’s beasts, two creatures who sat in stone for millennia, while Hewn City awaited its true master, and slumbered in its decadence, under the rule of the Night Court’s High Lords, awoke when the magic and power descended upon Azriel.

The creatures, and there were many of them here, awoke. But two, the ones who guarded the entrance to the City, were touched by Elain’s hand and released first. She freed them all, though some she put back to slumber, to be awoken when needed, though unlike before, they fed regularly, as opposed to once a decade.

But the two—Asterin and Sorrel—were Elain’s perpetual companions. The great fanged beasts, with powerful slithering bodies clad in impenetrable scales and with massive claws, not to mention keen intelligence and perfect understanding of language had made even Azriel a bit uneasy at first. Asterin was more physically powerful, but also playful, if volatile and temperamental, while Sorrel was calmer, if more brutal, and extremely overprotective of Elain.

Hewn City, especially during the transition of power, was not the friendliest of places, its new Lord well-known, disliked, feared and resented by a swath of its population. Even Elain, with her kindness and good-natured character, was not immediately successful in turning the tide of public opinion. Therefore, Azriel was more than concerned about leaving her here, if he had business elsewhere, but with Asterin and Sorrel, even his worries were put to rest.

The beasts were not exactly wyverns, or dragons, but creatures of their own. Like Rhys, they were able to summon their wings at will, which was perhaps something specific to Rhys’s bloodline, or somehow connected to Hewn City, but whatever the reason was, it was very, very useful. Elain had noted that having not one, but three winged creatures in the bedroom would be…excessive. Hence, when she and Azriel went to their palace atop the Court of Nightmares’ mountain, the beasts were free to fly and frolic about as much as they wanted. They also offered winged transportation to Elain.

At last, all three sisters were able to fly. Feyre simply summoned wings just like she always did. Nesta received her white mare pegasus, which she named Marena, from Helion (who still held out hope that she and Cassian would join him in some erotic escapade), as a mating gift. And lastly, Elain flew on her fanged beasts. Their three males could barely keep up.

Luckily, the beasts also went into hibernation when ordered, becoming stone-like, just like the sculptures that they once were. Because they insisted on sharing the quarters here, it was rather imperative that there was some privacy—because Azriel did not need to suddenly glance at a pair of slanted green eyes while licking Elain’s pussy.

Azriel deposited Elain on the bed and she wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hearty hug.

The shadows had returned—they left when they sensed that their master was about to engage in something private with the mistress—while Asterin and Sorrel coiled around the bed.

Even though their private apartment was located far inside the Hewn City Night Palace, they could still hear the partying occupants of the underworld Court. Azriel rolled his eyes and Elain laughed in return. He threw a shield over the bedroom, blocking the noise.

“Who knew that you’d fit right in, with Calanmai becoming your favourite holiday?” he muttered, squeezing her behind.

“I suppose the Cauldron doesn’t only make stupid mistakes,” she shrugged. “And once in a while gets something right.’

Part II

The Heirs of Shadow

Spring was in full bloom across the Night Court territory, slowly but surely crossing into summer.

The wind in Elain’s hair was sweet and scented with roses and pine. Asterin was like an enormous scaly snake-like puppy, swooshing through the air, making all sorts of unnecessary maneuvers beneath Elain’s saddle. “Hey! I will be going on Sorrel when we return,” she warned her beast and Asterin gave her a petulant snarl, but slowed down. The flight made Elain queasy and she was glad to see the cypress and pine-covered hills, and beyond them, a flower-covered meadow and a glittering, turquoise lake.

The stucco-covered villa stretched along the banks of the lake, one wall covered in ivy, and the other, in pink and white roses. As Asterin and Sorrel approached the villa, two children rushed out of the wrought iron gates, waving their arms in the air, jumping and yelling. Elain smiled at them, waving back.

“Elain, Elain,” the children rushed towards her the moment Asterin touched down, “we missed you so much! You came! Can we play with the wyverns? Can we go flying?”

Elain dismounted and squatted in the grass, opening her arms and then getting tackled onto her back, once the two children slid into her arms, hands and legs flailing about, smiles and at least one mouth with missing teeth grinning at her. She kissed soft cheeks and thick black hair, so alike to that of their oldest brother—Azriel.

“You two are such hooligans!” she laughed, finally managing to sit up, but they wouldn’t let get up, so they remained in the grass.

“Where is Az?” asked Nataliya, playing with Elain’s braid and closely inspecting her emerald earrings. “These are pretty! Do you have presents for me?”

“Nat, it’s rude to ask that!” at nine years of age, her brother Riad was the voice of reason and propriety. More than any other child, he reminded Elain of Azriel—a uniquely handsome boy, with a contemplative and scholarly attitude and yet remarkably swift, agile and fast. She’d watched him climb the old oak tree that grew on the property in under a minute. Sometimes, he and Azriel would go for a run, and the boy would keep up the entire time, without complaint, steadfast and determined, just like his brother.

“Why it’s rude if I want a present?” demanded Nataliya, shrugging. Elain kissed her head and said, “Lucky for you, I do have presents for everyone!”

The girl squealed, her round face breaking into a happy smile. “That’s good. I want them! You wanna see our baby?”

“Of course,” Elain nodded and then gave each one of them a hand and they tugged her upwards.

“Come on, Elain! You can do it,” Nat encouraged her, grunting.

“Is Az gonna come?” asked Riad quietly, once Elain was up, and they walked towards the villa, holding hands.

“Not right now, my loves. He is very busy,”

“He is High Lord!” exclaimed Nat, squeezing her chubby hands in delight. “He is busy, Riad!” she added confidently, “so he can’t come visit.”

“Maybe you can come and visit us in Velaris?” proposed Elain.

“Be careful what you ask for, darling!” a laughing voice interrupted their conversation.

Azriel’s stunningly beautiful mother was smiling at them, standing by the gate. Her lustrous black hair cascaded in rich, ebony waves around her, and the bright green eyes were in fine contrast to her dark golden skin. Her eldest son inherited her sensuous full mouth and every time Elain laid eyes on the woman, she could see Azriel’s visage in her face.

“We’d love to have you all,” insisted Elain, throwing her arms around her mother-in-law.

“Ma, we gonna go play with the wyverns!” announced Riad.

“Yes, with wyverns!” Nat nodded immediately. She was not yet five, and basically repeated everything that Riad did and said. “Which one is good?”

Elain chuckled, “they are both good. Asterin, the green one, likes to swim, so maybe you can go to the lake with her. And Sorrel, the gray one, she may even fly you about, if your mother permits,”

“Ma!”

Rosamunde winced a bit, but Elain murmured, “they’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Alright, but,”

Before she could even finish her sentence the two ran off towards the beasts.

“Ellie, you look wonderful,” Rosamunde locked arms with Elain and they slowly made their way inside Rosehall. A riot of flower beds greeted them and Elain sighed with delight. Who would have thought that she and her mother-in-law possessed the same interest and passion? Though Elain felt that Rosamunde’s gardens put hers to shame.

“Thank you,” she smiled, looking around.

The villa was a tranquil and stunning place, nestled in a valley, surrounded by low mountains and crystal-clear waterfalls. Azriel had purchased the estate long ago, while he was in love with Mor and had hoped that they would have a blissful future together. While he knew that they would always be tied to Velaris and Hewn City, he had imagined that Rosehall would be their escape, their private place to enjoy.

It was stunningly picturesque, with a mild tempered climate year-round, and a town a few leagues away, which supplied the estate with everything that it needed. However, things did not go as planned and instead, Azriel gifted the house and the lands around it to his mother, for her wedding to her life-long and long-suffering lover, partner, friend and the male who had waited for her for a century, and ultimately helped to rescue her from the clutches of Azriel’s father. The male was now an elected mayor of the town—a long way to come for a humble hunter who had once fallen in love with an Illyrian laundress and loved her for all the days of his life.

“So do you!” exclaimed Elain, breathing in the fragrant air and smiling widely. She loved Rosehall. It was a serene and gorgeous place, full of delightful smells and exquisitely stunning scenery.

“Come, come,” Rosamunde pulled her by the hand and they entered the house. It was cool and dim, but once they made their way down the terracotta-tiled hallway and stepped into the opulently enormous kitchen, light flooded the place. This kitchen was Elain’s inspiration for her own home—grand and open on three sides to take advantage of the glorious views outside, it was also homey and cozy, a place to accommodate a bustling, busy family. All the doors were open and a pleasant breeze wafted in and out, bringing in the scent of flowers and mingling with the smell of freshly baked tarts.

“Sit, sit,” Rosamunde offered and immediately sat a tall glass of lemonade before Elain.

“How’s my Azzie?” the mother asked, joining her at the long butcher block that stretched in the middle of the kitchen. A mother’s privilege, to call the famed shadowsinger, the feared spymaster, and now Lord—Azzie. Even Elain didn’t dare, though she teased him with it at times, causing many dramatic eyerolls in response.

“He is good,” Elain smiled a happy, satisfied smile which did not escape Rosamunde’s notice. Her charming daughter-in-law looked blissful and for some reason, it made Rosamunde’s heart ache with joy and pride. “Works too much,” Elain continued, sipping her lemonade, and helping herself to a peach cake which Rosamunde supplied promptly. Like all mothers, Rosamunde was convinced that both Azriel and Elain were too thin and did not eat enough. Hence, each time they visited, they returned laden with bushels of food, treats, jars of preserves and gods only knew what else. Now that there were two wyverns to carry the care packages, Elain couldn’t imagine how much she’d be given. Not that she minded.

Azriel had introduced Elain to his mother just after the betrothal and they had come here and spent a few days getting to know each other. Rosamunde had four children then, besides Azriel—Enid, who was over three hundred years old, and who was married to an Illyrian General (not an asshole, as Azriel explained), and then, hundreds of years later, she birthed four children almost in a row—unheard of in Fae society—Rafael, Riad, Nataliya and finally Ellena, with whom she was pregnant when she and Elain met.

Ellena now sat up groggily in a little play crib that stood in the corner and looked around, having just awoken from her nap. Seeing Elain, she immediately stood up and extended her arms to her.

Family. Elain had loved her father, but…family…

There used to be a family, but it was never quite normal, cohesive. Her mother only doted on Nesta, their father was frequently absent, Feyre was a solitary, quiet, dreamy child and Nesta was a formidable creature of her own. Elain learned how to navigate the dynamics early on, floating quietly between all of them, playing the peacemaker, being the good daughter. And while her sisters, and her nephew were her blood family, this—this was her new family, the one she loved. Her Azriel and all her new little nieces and nephews, and her mother-in-law, who was both a mother and a friend, and her father-in-law—an enormous, gregarious male who reminded her of Cassian, but who was even larger than the Illyrian General. When she came here, she felt in place, happy and cared for.

Rosamunde watched from the corner of her eye how Elain and Ellena hugged and cooed at each other, giggling and whispering, and she already knew that Elain wouldn’t let the baby go until it was time to leave. The three of them, well two, since Ellena mostly stuck her hands into things and smooshed food around, prepared lunch and then went outside, slowly walking down the path that led to the lake. Riad and Nat were using Sorrel as a slide, climbing on top of her and then sliding down her scaled back into the water, shrieking and screaming with joy and excitement, while Asterin lounged next to them, sunning her hide, watching them with lazy amusement.

“You smell like Az,” Rosamunde murmured suddenly, as they took off their dresses and waded into the water, because Ellena was throwing a fit and wanted to slide off Sorrel as well. Elain only allowed her a little jump off the wyvern’s tail, but Ellena loved it and screamed with delight, falling all over the place, while to two of them tried to catch her.

Elain, her shift irreversibly soaked, glanced at the female, as she helped Ellena climb up Sorrel’s tail. It was an unusual comment for Rosamunde to make. They were very close, and even though Rosamunde was over 700 years old, she looked like a woman in her early 30s, which made it easy for them to become friends, because on the surface they looked like they were almost the same age. And Azriel was born so, so long ago that Elain hardly ever thought of them as a mother and son. However, some conversations were off limits, and they certainly never discussed her and Azriel’s intimate relationship, even when they talked about males and their ways around the bedroom, giggling and joking over a few glasses of wine.

“Well, I,” Elain began saying, feeling a blush spreading over her chest and neck. “We…”

Yes, of course they’d made love in the morning, before she came here. They made love every morning. Every evening.

Rosamunde waved her hand at her, laughing, “Oh Cauldron! Please spare me the details!”

“Oh,”

“All I am saying is that your scents—they’ve amalgamated. I,” she sniffed delicately, “recognize him within you…Not just on your skin,”

“Really?”

Something passed across the female’s face, a small smile of recognition. Then she nodded, her face remaining unreadable, much like her son’s.

She nodded, “Yes. The cedar and the jasmine. A lovely scent indeed.”

“You smell good Elain?” Nat barreled into Elain’s arms, wrapping her arms around her neck.

Elain kissed her wet hair and said, “I guess I do. Are you ready to go and eat lunch?”

“No! I want to do this more!”

“Why don’t we come back after lunch and you can play more?” Elain proposed, somehow managing to convince the unruly bunch to actually get back into the house. While they walked, Nataliya declared, “I wanna be High Lady!”

Elain chuckled, “Yes? Why? What will you do as High Lady?”

Nat thought for a second and then said, “Gonna wear pretty dresses,”

“You already wear pretty dresses,” countered Elain.

“More pretty,” insisted the girl. “And eat cake!”

“So as a High Lady you’ll be wearing pretty dresses and eating cake?”

Nodding, the budding High Lady hooked her little finger over Elain’s bracelet and added, “Will wear this too! And crowns.”

“Well, well,” Elain laughed, “all good things.”

Nat seemed pleased by the prospect of her High Ladyship and skipped ahead, dreaming of crowns and cake.

“You know,” Rosamunde’s voice was thoughtful and quiet, “she may sound silly,”

“I think she is adorable,”

“She is, but even if she is only dreaming of nice dresses and cakes now, I am glad that she is able to dream like this at all. It wasn’t available to us—females—before. There were no High Ladies—not for a very, very long time. So much so, we’d forgotten that we could be one. It’s ironic that it took a human woman to bring the practice back to the Fae world. Now it’s you, and Lady Feyre, and Lady Viviane…I never thought I’d see this.”

“But your son is also a Lord,” reminded her Elain, gently pressing her lips to Ellena’s damp curls. “Was it a surprise?”

They’d never discussed the power transfer—not at any length. It was all very sudden and there hasn’t been time or perhaps even desire to talk about it.

“No,” Rosamunde shook her head, “not exactly a surprise. We hail from an ancient race of Fae—from a Court that no longer in existence,”

“Dusk?”

“Yes. They say that when Dusk was destroyed a few hundred families managed to survive and escape. They were the original inhabitants and builders of Hewn City. Over the centuries, bloodlines thinned, some mixed with other Fae, some with Illyrians…My bloodline is pure,”

Elain shot her a surprised look. Azriel had never mentioned this before.

“Azriel is a true and direct descendant of the Dusk Court nobility—through me—and perhaps even their High Lords…So, no, I was not particularly surprised. That’s why Keir and that family were always ‘stewards’, and not Lords.”

She sighed and looked ahead, as they approached the villa.

“My son,” she said softly, “has had a difficult life. An unhappy life. A life of incredible violence and heartache. A life without childhood, or love, or anything positive or any light…That he is a shadowsinger is not a good thing, you know…It’s a curse, not a blessing. But,” and she glanced at Elain, her sad, soft face, “now he has you. Gods, Elain, you have no idea how happy you make him.”

Elain blushed, a tear-touched smile on her face. “I,”

“Elain, love, you will never know,” Rosamunde wrapped her arm around Elain’s shoulder. “He isn’t a man of many words, but believe me when I say this—I would have been heartbroken if he was granted this burden of power without you at his side. It would just be another weight added onto his shoulders, and I wouldn’t want that for my son. But you came along, and everything fell into place…You and him, and how the Power chose both of you,”

“We aren’t mates,” Elain reminded her quietly, knowing how much importance the Fae placed on the bond.

“And? Perhaps you are even more than that?” Rosamunde shrugged. “Believe me—I’ve seen some happy matings, Rhys and Feyre, for example, but I’ve seen some bad ones as well—Rhys’s parents come to mind. Your own mate bond ended up being faulty…What if you have more than a bond? Not just a bond of love, but that of power? Think about it…” she cocked her brow.

Elain hadn’t considered that option, but now she pondered the suggestion, the implication of it all.

“And you?” she asked instead.

Rosamunde smiled and looked back, towards the town which nestled under the mountains, leagues away.

“And I am an example that bonds don’t matter. No one can possibly love me more than Finrod does, and seven hundred years later, I still get weak in the knees at the sight of him—just like I did when I beheld him the first time, when he won an axe throwing competition and then flared his wings with more gusto than Cassian would,” Rosamunde began to laugh and then Elain joined. But then, her brow furrowed and she asked,

“Wait—Finrod doesn’t have wings!”

“I have wings!” yelled Nat, as she entered the house, and Rosamunde called after her and Riad to go and dry themselves and change.

Surely Elain wasn’t losing her mind. None of the family had wings. Her expression must have been so apparent that Rosamunde chuckled and clapped her on the shoulder, “We do,”

“But…what?”

“Do you know how Rhys can summon his at will? As does Lady Feyre?”

Elain nodded, so confused she felt like she was in some kind of out-of-body experience.

“That’s because Rhys has Hewn City blood. From his father. His mother was fully Illyrian. Us—we are the opposite. I am of Hewn City stock, but Azriel’s…father…” she grimaced, “was Illyrian. So Azriel has permanent wings. We—my children, and Finrod—can summon them at will. I don’t use them much, though they could be useful. Mine are mostly vestigial—I can hardly fly and,” her beautiful face darkened with sorrow, “and…”

Elain squeezed her hand in support and acknowledgement.

“I couldn’t save my baby,” Rosamunde choked, tears filling her eyes, “I couldn’t save Az…They probably would’ve caught me anyway, but I might have had a chance…But, but,” she sobbed and stopped, burying her face in her hands, “I couldn’t…I can’t fly. I couldn’t save him…I couldn’t save my boy…”

“Mam, ma,” Ellena babbled, seeing her mother in distress, and Elain brough her arms around the two of them, kissing both of them, the three of them crying together. For a little boy who couldn’t have a childhood and couldn’t be saved.

…The rest of the day wasn’t as eventful. They had lunch, with Nataliya demonstrating how to summon her wings and ripping her dress in the process, which caused a flood of tears, and laughter from Riad, and then Nataliya smacking her brother in retribution, and him scowling and pouting for the rest of the meal.

“You two are clearing the table,” ordered Rosamunde, and Elain had to hide her smile at their indignation.

“Az mentioned that he works with wood and that you have some pieces that he’d made,” she remembered. “Do you mind showing them to me?”

“Of course! Come,” they grabbed Ellena, who wouldn’t let go of Elain anyway, and walked through the house, with Rosamunde pointing out beautiful pieces of carved wooden furniture and decorative pieces.

“After Az was sent to the camp,” she recalled, “they allowed him to apprentice with the carpenter there…Because of his hands and his inability to fly, the Commanders didn’t think he’d be useful, and would ever be able to fight. So they figured that he should learn some kind of trade, if he didn’t make it as a shadowsinger for the High Lord, and it also allowed him to work with his hands and fingers, because he still had trouble with them even after 3-4 years after…” her voice faded and she didn’t finish her thought.

Elain ran her fingers along a beautifully carved mirror frame and murmured, “he is truly talented…”

He mother nodded. Then said, “I think he might carve something for you soon…”

“What?”

“Something for the house, I am sure.”

Azriel landed in the front lawn of his estate.

It was a large, rambling cottage that became available after the war—the family that lived there moved to a smaller place and the house sat unoccupied for a year. Azriel’s been eyeing it ever since it became vacant, but he didn’t need a place that big for himself and back then, he didn’t think that he ever stood a chance with Elain.

Asterin and Sorrel were lounging on the grass, lazily chewing on Elain’s roses, pretending to smell them. At seeing Azriel they immediately shifted, feigning innocence and acting like they weren’t gnashing on the bulbs just now. He shook his finger at them and they turned away, ignoring him.

He was forever thankful that unlike Hewn City, the cottage, while large, couldn’t contain two enormous, fanged beasts. So, they stayed outside. He reckoned that everything fell into place when Elain entered his life, including the location of this house—far away from everyone, secluded in brambles and weeping willows, it was just outside of Velaris, with stunning views all around—the city on one side, and the sea on the other. His presence made people nervous enough, even back when he was just a shadowsinger and spymaster of the High Lord, and an Illyrian with seven siphons. Now, as Lord of Hewn City, with a Cauldron-made betrothed, two fanged beasts in tow, and Bryaxis who loved visiting as well, having befriended Elain a while back (since two monsters as friends weren’t enough), Azriel did not make for a desirable neighbour. Thankfully, there were no neighbours around. Therefore, if Bryaxis felt like sitting in the garden, wrapped in dark shadow of terror, it didn’t result in a pile of bodies who died of pure fear.

“My love, are you home?” he called out, shucking off his jacket and weapons, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“I am here!” Elain’s voice sang back and instantly his heart gladdened. That voice was like a balm on his soul, sweet and welcoming, and Azriel had to mentally pinch himself to remind himself that this was real. This was his life. This was his home, the one he built with the only woman that he ever truly ever loved and who loved him unconditionally and with an undimming, everlasting passion. His Elain. His Elain who chose him against all odds, and who promised to walk with him side by side, regardless of what befell them in this life. And with her next to him, he felt no fear.

“Holy gods, what are you doing?” he cried, when he entered their vast kitchen and saw Elain balance herself precariously on her toes, on the top step of a stepladder, reaching for something on the top shelf of their pantry. “You couldn’t have waited for me?!”

She laughed at him, kissing the air in greeting and said, “You are fussier than your mom!”

“What are you doing?” he came closer, and crossed his arms on his chest.

“She gave me so much food, I am trying to arrange it all,” Elain giggled, “I think she thinks that we are starving.”

He snorted a laugh.

“I felt bad for Sorrel who had to haul all these baskets on her back,”

“I imagine that Sorrel managed just fine.”

He came closer and playfully pecked her bottom through her gauzy skirt, and she squirmed with enjoyment.

“My Lord Azriel!” she admonished him playfully.

“Lady Elain,” he slapped her buttock lightly and said, “get off that stool and give me a kiss! What smells so good?”

“Dinner!”

He went to the cupboard and started pulling out plates and wine glasses and setting the table.

“Six jars of pickles! Three jars of jam,” she was counting out loud, “Three jars of marinated peppers. Six baskets of dried mushrooms…Azriel, if I see you tucking into those blackberry tarts before dinner, I swear,”

In the next moment, she was swept off her feet and into a pair of strong arms, his mouth descending on hers in a savage kiss. She screeched and laughed, clutching at his shoulders, before softening against him and draping her arms around his neck. Her lips opened in invitation and he swept his tongue inside, gently overpowering her with his kiss.

“I love you,” she moaned into his mouth, running her hands through his hair.

“I’d like to hear the rest of your threat,” he invited with a chuckle, “about the blackberry tarts,”

“I’d make love to you,” she whispered into his ear, lightly biting his earlobe, “if you eat a blackberry tart,”

“Then perhaps I should have two?”

“Perhaps…”

“And if I eat a pickle?” he proposed, returning to her lips, placing small, loving kisses on her mouth and her eyes.

“The punishment remains the same,” she breathed.

He breathed in deeply, with satisfaction.

Then stilled, abruptly.

Elain looked at him in surprise when he pulled away from her mouth.

His hazel eyes blazed—blazed like the green forests of Illyria, like the obsidian of Hewn City, like the stars of the Night Court. Those eyes devoured her. His perfect, beautiful face, usually so tanned and golden, paled. She’d never seen him pale.

“Az?”

Confusion and fear were written on her face.

“El,” he sobbed.

He…sobbed.

Azriel’s gorgeous eyes filled with tears, huge and thick, the eyes brimmed with them before spilling onto his face.

“Azriel,” she cried in alarm, cupping his cheek.

“Elain,” he gasped, his voice so choked with emotion, so raspy, she could barely hear him, “my love. Elain. My love,” he kept repeating, as if in shock, as if he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Az, I love you, please, my darling, what is,”

“We are going to have a baby,” he blurted out.

Her eyes widened and his hand instinctively went to her stomach. He lay his heavy scarred palm on her belly, setting her down on the floor, and dropped on his knees before her.

She pressed her hand over his, still disbelieving his words, as they stared at each other, both in some kind of stupor of complete elation and doubt.

“Are you certain?” she begged softly, her eyes pleading with him for confirmation, for this to be true.

“I smell it…it’s so clear,” he inhaled again, and then again, “you and I and someone else in there,”

“Oh, by the Cauldron,” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, “you mother…Oh…”

“What?” he pressed his cheek to her stomach, wrapping his arms around her hips.

“She knew. I think she knew…She commented on our smell,”

“What did she say?”

“That we amalgamated into one scent,”

He chuckled softly, kissing her hands, her stomach, whatever his lips could reach, “We certainly amalgamated. I think it’s a bit more than just a scent though,”

Suddenly it dawned on Elain. It all came crushing at once and she wept, squeezing her face, a smile on her face so wide, it hurt her cheeks.

“We’ve made a baby?” she gasped, “Az, we’ve made a baby.”

“We’ve made a life together,” he murmured, awed. For a male who was so used to taking life, whose very existence was dedicated to war and blood, the thought of creating one, of creating something pure and good along with this female that he loved beyond reason, was simply magical.

“On Calanmai, you think?” she marveled, remembering the Great Rite, and everything that they did that night.

“I am certain,” he nodded.

“Our magical baby,” she grinned through her tears, looking down at him, at her stomach, and their hands, cradling it together.

It was a warm summer day, with the sky of the clearest blue and the sun beating down.

Azriel had worked up a sweat, but he loved it. It was quiet around their house, other than for the chirping birds and the rustling of leaves. Out as far as the eye could see stretched the azure sea—this view was one of the reasons Azriel bought this specific house. It was absolutely glorious and he loved the gleaming amethyst brilliance of the water, the smell of salt and brine in the air. One side of the house overlooked the city skyline, in the back, the towering mountains, and ahead, the vast expanse of the sea. When he was old and gray, he imagined that he’d be sitting out on the terrace, with Elain on his lap, and never tire of the view or of her. Not a Lord, not a spymaster or an Illyrian with too many siphons, but Azriel. He’d never tell her, but he already knew what he’d have written on his tombstone, if he ever had one ‘Here lies Azriel. He loved Elain, who made him happy’.

He looked up from the piece of wood that he was polishing. In their beautiful garden, the whole menagerie of their creatures napped or lounged. Deep in the shadows of the two weeping willows was a smudge of impenetrable darkness—Bryaxis came to look at the sun and smell the flowers. Around it, Azriel’s own shadows fluttered and floated. It was a little too bright for them out here, so they hid alongside Bryaxis, nestled in his darkness. Azriel figured that they could talk with each other, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the topic of their conversation would be. Asterin was cooling off in the pond, while Sorrel was sleeping on the grassy bank, sunning her wings. He supposed that he was also a strange creature, just like them, with his wings, that he was also presently sunning and his unnatural power. Perhaps, only Elain was the normal one amongst them, though probably not.

Elain was crouched in the flower bed, a wide-brimmed hat obscuring her face, even if her thin sleeveless shirt allowed a very generous and tempting glimpse of her unbound breasts under the unbuttoned collar.

“You look like a cat who just drank all the cream,” she noted, without moving her head or looking at him.

“And you are acting like an expert little spy,” he laughed, and walked over to her.

His scarred hand crawled under her hat and he squeezed the back of her neck, massaging gently.

“Mmm, that feels good,” she hummed, leaning into his hand.

Then, with a smirk, she complained, “I am hot.”

He chuckled and stooped over her, his palm migrating from the back of her neck to the front, squeezing her throat lightly and tilting her head back. The hat tumbled on the grass.

“Can I help you remove some of this offending clothing?” he offered, leaning deeper over her, his face ghosting hers in the barest of touches. He whispered and her tongue darted out and licked on his lips quickly.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please…”

He snapped his fingers, without taking his eyes off her and then said, loudly, “Hey! All of you! Find somewhere else to be!”

The monster, the beasts and shadows all made an indignant noise, and attempted to turn around, but Azriel shook his head, “No. No. Go. Leave. Come back later. All of you.”

His shadows flew closer to him, in hopes of being spared, but he flicked his wrist at them.

Elain was laughing.

“You are a terrible host!” she murmured, when he slid on the grass next to her.

“I am a stupendous host,” he countered, stroking her throat, before tilting her head the way he wanted to and placing his lips on the thin, smooth skin. He kissed. Softly. Unhurriedly. Up and down, from her ear to her shoulder, while his deft fingers unbuttoned the few buttons of her shirt.

“Stupendous, huh?”

“Uh-uh,” he breathed against her neck, and parted her blouse, sliding it down her arms and then arranging it so she could lay her head on it. “They lounge on my lawn. They swim in our pond. They eat your flowers. They terrify the neighbors,”

“We don’t have any neighbors,” she reminded him with a chuckle. “You hate people,”

“I don’t hate people,” he corrected, kissing her nose and then her lips, “I care about people. That’s why I don’t have them around, so they don’t die of terror should they come upon Bry or your sweet beasties,”

“You are my sweet beastie,” she whispered, stroking his face.

Azriel smiled, and agreed, “That I am. And, you’ve been very naughty, tempting me with these all morning long,” he cupped her bare breasts, which always fit so well within his palms and rubbed his thumbs over the nipples. Now, a month and a half into her pregnancy, they began to fill out, growing just a bit heavier and fuller almost daily. It fascinated him and, well, he couldn’t deny that it made him quite happy as well.

“You can play with them,” she offered.

“Yeah?” he leaned into her and wrapped his mouth over the nipple, pulling hard and deep, teeth and lips clamping on the sensitive tip. A violent shudder rushed through her, and she tugged on his hair, pushing his face into her soft breast…and if he was going to suffocate now, he’d die a happy male. But she released her hold on his head a bit and he sucked deeply and steadily, while working her out of her skirt. She wiggled out of it and kicked it with her foot, while going for the ties on his trousers, pulling on them impatiently. He laughed over her breast and then looked up at her, “eager, are we?”

Elain flipped him on his back and muttered, panting lightly, “Az, I need you,”

“You have me, love,” he assured her, as he pulled out his cock and stroked it a few times. She looked down, hunger in her beautiful brown eyes, her lower lip between her teeth, body almost shaking with anticipation.

He wrapped his hand over her hips and nudged her forward, murmuring, “come, my baby, take what you need.”

Elain didn’t have to be asked twice. The horrible ache in her core was becoming unbearable and there was only way to soothe it. While Azriel slid his trousers down his legs, finally getting naked beneath her, she straddled him and guided his thick cock inside of her.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, her eyes closing and head lolling to the side, pure, ravenous bliss written all over her face. She sunk on him slowly, for no matter how aroused she was, how wet and ready, his size did not allow for a singular initial thrust. It always had to be a tempered, gradual push, which they both loved, for it only heightened their senses, the anticipation of what was about to happen.

His fingers dug deeply into her thigh probably adding to an existing bruise, but Elain loved carrying his bruises on her body. Beneath her gauzy dresses, or the more daring, risqué outfits that she wore in Hewn City, or her gardening dungarees, or the simple skirts and shirts that she wore at home, her lovely, curvy body bore the marks of Azriel’s love. It was their secret, just like the bargain tattoo that was hidden on her thigh—only for him to know.

The moment he was situated in her, he set an ambitious pace, his hips working almost against his rational inclination, but the way the walls of her sex gripped him with such sublime strength and clenched and pulled him in every time he made a move was so overwhelmingly pleasurable, he stopped, just to gather his thoughts for a moment.

“You take me so well, my girl,” he grunted, “so tight,”

“Az, move,” she pleaded desperately, her palms pressing into his chest, her hips grinding onto him. “Faster…”

He sat up, biting his lower lip, his palm gripping her breast almost painfully, as he squeezed her nipple between his fingers, twisting it harshly. She panted loudly, the bit of pain always being something she craved, something he offered and she chased.

“Anything you want, baby,” he finally calmed himself enough to begin thrusting into her in earnest. Even when she was on top, she liked for him to do most of the work, and he did not object whatsoever. He lay back down, letting his eyes roam over her gorgeously lush body, mesmerized by her bouncing breasts, as they bopped and swayed with every thrust of his hips. He cupped her soft, pert ass and gently spread the cheeks, mashing them in his palms, his fingers pushing occasionally against and around her other little hole, eliciting pleased moans and cries from her parted lips.

“Az, my love, you feel so amazing,” she breathed. “Why does it feel so good?”

“Because you were made for me and I was made for you,” he said simply.

“Yes,” she nodded, “yes,”

His eyes drifted down her body and he buried himself inside of her, thrusting to the hilt and holding still. She moaned loudly, her head rolling back, unbound hair ticking his thighs. He ran his hand over her torso, her throat and her breasts and then paused at her stomach, pressing lightly to her lower belly. He could feel and see the small bump—not that of their baby—but his cock that was so deep, it pushed out from inside of her.

Azriel groaned loudly, wondering if he’s ever been so hard before. He has. But every time it felt new and different, the sense of possession almost indescribable.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the same spot. Her eyes widened with lust mixed with amazement and she rubbed the cock that was pocking her stomach.

“El, fuck,” he swore low and hissing, “fuck it feels nice, baby…” he held her hand right there, and she moved and stroked her stomach. “You are so tiny, I can see myself moving inside of you,”

She grinned, “You like that, bad boy?”

“Yes, my sweet, this boy really, really likes seeing you take my cock!”

Cassian could barely breathe.

He loved Elain, but the flowers…Her garden was gorgeous, a feast for the eyes, a work of art—and torture for his nose and eyes and throat.

Azriel and Elain had been holed up in their luxurious secluded cottage for over a month.

He saw them here and there, they visited once, maybe twice, and then there was the dinner at the River House, which they declined to attend, citing Hewn City business.

“Go check on them!” ordered Nesta.

“Why don’t we go together?” proposed Cassian, but she said, “I don’t want to ambush them. Just…it’s casual if it’s just you.”

So here he was, being casual.

Somehow even Rhys found out that he was going to visit them, and the High Lord ordered him to report on their well-being.

The two wyverns, or whatever they were, flew over the sea, flipping and diving into the water.

Cassian landed in front of the house and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again, harder this time, but was greeted with silence.

It was a nice day, so he figured that the two of them being in the garden was very probable. Elain with her flowers or berry bushes, and Azriel just watching over her like a hungry wolf in love. The male was so obsessively in love, Cassian figured that if he could spend eternity watching Elain garden, Azriel would be perfectly satisfied with his life.

Rounding the corner, Cassian was faced with the most disturbing scene that his 543-year-old eyes had seen—naked Elain, grinding on Azriel…riding his cock.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

His sister. His little sister. That’s who Elain was to him. She was his little petal, his sweet flower girl. Riding Azriel’s enormous cock. How that thing even fit into her was a miracle.

Oh gods. His eyes. He pressed his palms over his face and ran back. He slammed into something, refused to open his eyes, and ran until he was well out on the front law on the house.

Mother’s tits! Why were they outside? He knew why they were, because it was a nice day and it was perfect time for lovemaking, but gods, did Azriel have to do it with her?

Breathing heavily, Cassian shot up in the air. He’d fly around, for a few hours. A few hours should be long enough, right? Maybe a few days?

Yes, theoretically, Cassian knew that Elain and Azriel were lovers. They were betrothed and swore their love and loyalty to each other before a priestess, and one day, planned to perhaps marry, as humans married—Elain’s idea, though she was cooling off to it, no longer concerned about the human rituals and their ways. But they were both reserved people, rarely displaying overt affection towards each other and somehow, it was difficult to imagine them in more intimate situations.

Azriel had scented his brother nearby.

Elain was whimpering atop of him, as he was pounding into her and right then, his brother was of no concern to him. He wanted to bring his girl over the edge, and she was close if the fluttering of the walls of her pussy around his cock were anything to go by. Her breath came out in deep, hoarse sighs and she stretched over him, her hair draping over her breasts and his chest, swooshing and tickling his chest. She squeezed her breast in her hand, rolling her nipple, as she plunged down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Close, sweetheart?” he held her hips tightly, angling her so that her clit ribbed against his pelvis, while kissing her mouth. She nodded breathlessly and fell atop of him, sinking her teeth into his neck and sucking, as she thrashed and moaned into his shoulder, whispering how much she loved him.

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he murmured into her hair.

Azriel was working on an intricate carving in the piece of wood, chiseling slowly and carefully into the plank. He might have planned too complex a design, if he had to admit it, but he had eight months to complete it, so with some perseverance he figured that he’d be done just in time.

“I know you are there,” he said without raising his eyes from his chisel, “stop being weird.”

Cassian stepped in front of him, sniffling and hacking, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

“Were you hiding there long?”

“You know I wasn’t hiding,” Cassian sneezed, “I just flew in.”

“Flew back in,” corrected Azriel, smirking.

“My eyes did not need to see what they saw earlier,” Cassian sat heavily on a bench, shaking his head. “And stop smiling!”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for someone so modest and easily perturbed,”

“Umm, I am not easily perturbed at all,” he interrupted, “unless I see my sister doing all those things with you,”

“Well, she is my betrothed female and my Lady,” Azriel reminded him casually, “so we do ‘do those things’ as you call them,”

“I don’t need to be reminded!”

Elain appeared—thankfully dressed—with a smile on her face, and exclaimed, “Cass! I didn’t hear you come in!”

She skipped towards him and threw herself into his embrace. He swung her around in his arms, and kissed her head.

“I’ve missed you, petal!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

“You look—stunning,” he had to admit, giving her a once over. “Gods…you are glowing!”

She smiled shyly, ducking her head and then playfully slapped his shoulder, murmuring, “such a flatterer,”

Azriel was observing them silently, still carving the wood, though Cassian sensed some tension in his brother. Azriel was never jealous, especially not of him, but just in case, Cassian stepped away from Elain and sat back down on the bench. Azriel reminded him of a newly mated male, and for a moment, he wondered if they had a mate bond snap for them, which would explain their absences and secrecy.

He watched them exchange a quick glance, but a bout of sneezes interrupted his puzzlement at all of this cagey behaviour. Could Elain have been given two bonds? Elain was mysterious, her power still not entirely revealed, her Cauldron-given abilities developing and unraveling bit by bit. Her power matched Azriel’s in many different, intricate ways, most of which Cassian could not understand. Even Rhys had trouble comprehending what the two of them were capable of, and how vast that power reserve actually was.

“Cass, let me get you something for your allergies,” Elain offered. “Do you want lemonade?”

“Don’t fuss Lainey,” he began, but she waved him off. “Lemonade for my brother is not fussing. I have an ointment that will help you,”

She went back into the house and Cassian draped his arms over his knees, looking out at the sea. This was a damn nice view! No wonder they didn’t want to leave. They split their time between their four residences—Hewn City palace, Azriel’s apartment in Velaris, occasionally they used the palace on the mountain, but typically only for formal meetings, but this—this was their home.

“You are quiet,” Cassian noted, glancing at Azriel.

His brother seemed to have relaxed a bit, even his wings snapped not as tightly as before, and he shrugged in his usual Azriel way, saying nothing.

Cassian finally glanced at the wood that Azriel was working on and he nodded towards the fine carvings, “it’s beautiful…what is it?”

Azriel drew his scarred finger over the wood, and after a moment, said, “it’s headboard for a crib.”

“A crib? Really? Who asked you to make a crib?” wondered Cassian, cocking his brow.

Then he stilled, his eyes widening, “Shit?! Rhys and Feyre? Are they having another baby?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel chuckled, amusement in his eyes, “they haven’t told me.”

“Who else?” pondered Cassian. “Don’t be an asshole! Tell me!” he whined.

“Maybe you?” Azriel winked at him.

“What?” Cassian paled, “wha-…Nes,”

“Oh gods, no!” groaned Azriel, laughing, “I am kidding. Can’t you smell anything?”

“I can’t smell shit!” Cassian wiped his nose, “I am all stuffed up. What am I supposed to be smelling?”

“Elain.”

“What about Elain?”

In the next moment, Cassian tackled Azriel in his hug, both of them landing in the grass, a scream of joy ripping from Cassian’s chest.

“Elain?” he cried, tears springing in his eyes, “a baby…a baby for you,” he rocked Azriel against his chest, and for once, Azriel gently, easily embraced him back.

“Az, I…” Cassian, for once, was speechless. ‘”I am so happy…I am so happy for you,”

Azriel grinned, emotional again, his chest heavy and tight with joy.

“Actually, I need to make two cribs,” he said. “Care to help, uncle?”

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #my writing #the heirs of shadow #azriel #elain archeron #elain #azriel and elain #elain and azriel #azriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction prompt #fanfic prompt

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originalhybridloverfics · 3 years

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The Start of Our Forever - Ch 3 Unexpected Interruptions

Summary: Thea stops by to check on Felicity and sees something unexpected.

A/N: Wow, it's been forever since i wrote in this. Plus, I haven't been writing that much lately. Haven't been feeling well on top of all the personal stuff I have going on.

Anyway, have some Olicity Smut.

Oliver’s arm moved in search of his wife as he buried his head deeper into the pillow but all he felt was empty sheets.

His eyes fluttered open, sliding his hand across her side of the bed. It was still warm from her.

“Felicity?” he mumbled, sitting up slowly.

He could hear the shower running, he looked at the clock and saw it was almost noon.

He wasn’t surprised he had slept in so long. Felicity and he were busy most of the night.

They really needed to soundproof their walls before they scarred their children for the rest of their lives.

Since he got back they were catching up on lost time and were as careful as they could be not to let William catch them or overhear them having sex.

They had succeeded so far.

He looked toward the bathroom door that was half open and couldn’t resist, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading straight for the bathroom.

Steamed filled the room, fogging up the mirror and the shower door.

He could just make out the outline of her body as she washed her hair out.

He walked into the bathroom and pushed his boxers down, he pulled the door open, sliding in behind her silently.

He watched the way her muscles tensed before relaxing a moment later.

She knew he was there.

He wound his arm around her waist and pulled her back until her naked back was flushed against his chest, her every soft curve pressing into the hard lines of his body.

He swept her hair to the side and caught the water slipping down the slope of her neck with his tongue.

Felicity out a low keen, and leaned her head back against him, her arm moving to wind around his neck, fisting his hair.

She tugged on his hair and he felt it right down to his dick as it hardened, pressing against her lower back.

Felicity grabbed his arm around her waist with her free hand, dragging it up her body between her breast, and lifted it to her mouth pressing a kiss to his palm.

Heat flared through him at the feel of her skin, he dragged his hand back down her body, slowly. Stopping on her breast, feeling the weight of them in his hand. The tightening of her nipple against his palm.

His thumb brushed back and forth across it, earning a beautiful whine from his wife.

His other hand moved to her ass, squeezing the supple flesh before siding around and cupping her wet sex.

“Oliver!” Felicity’s core throbbed, needing to feel her husband.

“Shh, We can’t be too loud.” Oliver cautioned her as his thumb found her clit, rubbing against it.

“My mom stopped by earlier and took the kids for the day,” Felicity breathed, scratching her nails at his scalp. “They won’t be back for hours.”

“In that case,” Oliver fingers circled her entrance before sinking two fingers inside of her and simultaneously, pinching her nipple.

Felicity cried out, her body jerking forward.

Oliver pulled her back with his hand on her breast, his hips moving against her backside. “God, you’re so responsive and wet. I love it.”

“For you.” Felicity’s other hand snuck behind him and gripped his hardened cock.

Her hand on his dick mimicked the motions of his thrusting fingers.

Her hand twisted when he curled his fingers deep inside her and he cursed, pulling his fingers from her body and stopping her hand on him. “I need to feel you wrapped around me.”

“God, yes, please.” Felicity’s body ached with the need for something bigger than his fingers stretching, moving, stroking deep inside her.

Oliver gripped her by the hips, fingers digging into her flesh. “Brace yourself against the wall.”

Felicity placed both her hands on the wall as Oliver’s hand slid to her back, bending her forward, her back arching.

Oliver gripped himself and rubbed the head of his cock at her entrance.

Felicity let out a whimper and pushed back against him.

Oliver groaned as the head of his cock disappeared into her body. He gripped her by both hips, holding her still. “You know, I’m not wearing a condom, right?”

“I don’t care,” Felicity said, her voice filled with need. “It’s you and it’s me and nothing else matters. Please, Oliver, I need you.”

Oliver groaned and slid into her slowly.

Felicity let out a low keen.

Oliver gave her time to adjust to his size, feeling her fit him like a tight-fitting glove, stroking into her slowly, burying his length as deep as he could.

Felicity panted, mouth parting, her eyes slid close reveling in the slow pleasure coursing through her.

Oliver pressed himself as deep as he could curling around her, feeling the hot water pouring over their naked wet skin.

His lips found the back of her neck sucking the skin of her shoulder as one hand moved from her hip to grasp at her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

Felicity let out a pleasure-filled gasp, his hips swiveled and he rubbed at a spot deep inside her that had her wanting more.

“More, I need more.” Felicity’s voice cracked, filled with passion.

Oliver released her breast sliding both his hands to her lower back as he stood up straighter, his lips leaving her skin, watching as he slid out of her.

Felicity let out a whimper that quickly turned into a cry as Oliver thrust himself inside her fast and hard.

He gripped at her hips as he kept a fast pace, each thrust harder than the one before.

“Oh, God,” Felicity hung her head, her small cries of pleasure increasing, feeling Oliver taking her as if they haven’t been having sex every night since he got back.

Oliver groaned, feeling her convulse around him. She felt so fucking perfect and the sounds she was making only fueled him on like a rush of adrenaline.

He slid one hand down her body, smoothing down her leg until he reached her knee and without warning he hooked it over his arm, opening her more and plunge inside.

Felicity cried, her body jolting forward, hands smacking against the shower wall. “Fuck!”

Oliver did it again and she fell forward, Oliver’s arm banded around her stomach to keep her from collapsing as he changed the angle of his thrust, bending his knees and driving up into her.

Felicity cried out, he hit a spot inside her that had her erupting like a volcano, crying out again.

Oliver groaned as he felt her come around his dick, her orgasm, triggering his own. He lost the rhythm as his dick gave a twitch on the last thrust and he came with a low groan of her name, spilling his essence inside of his wife’s welcoming body.

Felicity removed her hand from the wall, reaching back running her fingers through his hair. Oliver lowered her leg, pulling out of her, and held her to him protectively.

“You’re amazing,” Felicity murmured, breathless.

“Not more than you.” Oliver turned her in his arms and scooped down to capture her mouth in a filthy kiss that promised more. “What do you say we move this to a bed?”

Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck and kiss him deeply.

Oliver scooped her up, wrapping her legs around her waist, and carried her out of the shower.

No sooner had he settled Felicity on the bed, covering her with his body, he felt her hands pushing at his chest.

He rolled onto his back and Felicity wasted no time in moving to straddle his hips.

Felicity leaned down capturing his lips in a heated kiss as her hand moved between them and wrapped around his dick, he grew hard again under her touch.

One of the things Felicity loved about her husband was his stamina. It was insane.

God, did she love benefitting from it. It was like being fucked by a sex god or something.

She moved her hips, her swollen clit sliding over his hardened shaft.

Oliver groaned, his hands gripping her thighs squeezing as she moved over him. He was experiencing the sweetest torture, feeling her and her wetness against his cock but not being inside her.

“Felicity, please,” Oliver begged, his voice carried so much need Felicity felt her core clenched, aching to be filled. “Baby, please, please, I need you.”

“Me too,” Felicity gripped his shaft, lining the head of his cock with her opening and sunk down on him, slowly, savoring every inch as it filled her.

“Oh, shit” Oliver grunted his fingers digging into her flesh.

“Oliver,” Felicity moaned out, her eyes sliding shut. It felt so good to feel him inside her. She swore it was like his dick was made just for her, he was so thick and long, she felt so full with him buried deep inside her. “You feel so good.”

“You’re stealing my lines.” Oliver shifted his hips, encouraging her to move.

Slowly, Felicity started moving sliding up and down his shaft.

Oliver grunted, his hands gliding over her body, squeezing at her breast, down her torso, sliding over her back and down to her ass, urging her to move faster.

Felicity moaned as his hands squeezed her ass and she picked up her pace.

Oliver loved the sounds she was making and wanted more, he wanted to hear her crying out. He bent his legs, planting his feet into the bed, and thrust up into her with force.

Felicity cried out sharply, throwing her head back in pleasure.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Thea pulled out in front of Felicity’s home. She looked at the ring gracing her finger and couldn’t wait to share her good news. Maybe something happy would cheer Felicity up for a little while.

Thea was worried for her sister-in-law. Ever since they had lost Oliver, Felicity had all but disappeared from her life, hiding from the world. Thea feared that Felicity was drowning in her grief and that couldn’t be good for her or William.

If Felicity couldn’t take care of herself how could she possibly care for William? Not to mention her mom and Tommy had been acting weird anytime Felicity, or William, or Oliver’s death was mentioned.

Thea exited her car and walked up to the door. She knocked on it several times but when she got no answer she tried the handle and found it wasn’t locked.

She let herself in. “Calling out, Felicity, are you home?” She walked further into the home. “Felicity, I was hoping we could grab some lunch. I have news I want to share with you.”

Thea walked further into her home and stopped at the sound of a cry feeling the air.

She broke out into a run, believing Felicity was in trouble. She ran down the hallway to Felicity’s bedroom and threw the door open.

Her eyes widened at what she saw.

She could see Felicity naked, riding some man, her head thrown back in intense pleasure, crying out for more.

“So good.” Felicity moaned her hips rocking. “Don’t stop, baby, please, don’t stop.”

“Oh my God,” Thea exclaimed.

Felicity looked over her shoulder in alarm to see Thea standing there in shock. “Thea!” she froze, stopping all movement.

“Oh, God, sorry.” Thea left the room quickly slamming the door shut behind her.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Oh my God, I had no idea, she was coming by.” Felicity lifted herself off Oliver, reluctantly.

She had been so close. So fracking close.

Oliver groaned. “No, Felicity,” he reached for her again.

“Your sister’s here, she doesn’t even know you’re back.” Felicity slid out of the bed and grabbed one of Oliver’s large t-shirts. “I’m gonna go talk to her. Get cleaned up, and come join us. She’s gonna want to see you.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Thea paced back and forth in the living room. This was all wrong.

Oliver was gone for not even two months and Felicity already had someone else in her bed. What was wrong with her. It was too soon for Felicity to be moving on. Let alone fucking someone in the bed she once shared with Oliver.

And where the hell was William? What was Felicity thinking?

Something else had to be going on here. Nothing made sense.

“Thea,”

Thea whirled around to see Felicity standing behind her in nothing more than a gray t-shirt that hung off her shoulder and stopped at her mid-thigh. Her hair was wild, the very definition of sex hair. Her mouth was swollen, red patches on her neck.

God, she looked completely debauched.

“Are you out of your mind?” Thea asked.

Felicity’s frowned. “What?”

“I know you are grieving Felicity but that is no excuse for bringing some stranger home and screwing him in your and Ollie’s bed.”

Felicity’s expression darkened. “Is that what you think I did?”

“I think you’re spiraling. You haven’t been around, ignoring everyone’s calls. You’re secretive. You’re taking strange men home.” Thea wanted to be sympathetic but it was really hard after what she saw.

“You really think I am capable of just fucking some stranger in the bed I shared with my husband?” Felicity demanded.

“I didn’t before this but I can’t unsee what I saw.” Thea took a step toward. “Felicity. I know you’re hurting but you can’t spiral out like this, you have William to think about.”

“I know that which is why I would never bring some stranger into our home and fuck him,” Felicity ground out.

“I know what I saw,” Thea fought off a shudder. “You were-”

The door behind Felicity open and Thea froze as she watched her brother stepped out of Felicity’s bedroom, wearing a pair of sweat and a gray t-shirt. “Oh my God, Ollie!” Thea couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Hey, Speedy.” Oliver greeted, stepping forward.

Thea clung tightly to her brother, feeling his arms coming around her. “How?” she asked pulling back.

“It’s a long story, one I don’t really feel like getting into at the moment.”

Thea nodded, releasing him. “How long have you been back?”

“A little over a week,” Oliver answered.

Thea nodded and looked at Felicity. “I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Felicity waved her off.

She wasn’t going to let a stupid misunderstanding and wrongful assumption ruin Oliver’s return or his reunion with his sister.

“Why haven’t you guys told anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I needed to spend time with my wife and kids but mom and Tommy and Donna already know,” Oliver explained.

“We are telling on a select few. We don’t want everyone knowing Oliver’s back. You, Roy, we still have to tell John and Lyla.” Felicity explained.

“It’s going to be hard to keeping the rest of the world from finding out about this.” Thea reasoned.

“As far as the rest of the world is concerned Oliver Queen is dead. I know I won’t be able to stay out of the public eye but for now, I can,” said Oliver.

Thea nodded in understanding. “Sure, maybe once everyone knows we can all get together and celebrate your back.”

“I’ll like that,” Oliver said, wrapping his arm around his wife and tugging her inside.

Felicity wound her arms around his waist, holding onto him.

“I’m going to go and let you guys get back to..” she trailed off, scrunching her face in disgust as she recalled walking in on during sex. “Maybe take Willaim off your hands for a bit” Thea paused suddenly. “Wait you said kids as more than one.”

Oliver and Felicity shared a look before Oliver explained about Mia and why they chose to keep this a secret.

“Wow, I can’t believe everything that you’ve been keeping secret. I understand, of course, but when can I meet my niece?” asked Thea.

“Soon,” Felicity promised. “Why don’t you and Roy come by in a few days. We’re gonna get everyone together to meet her and tell them about Oliver.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Thea said, deciding to tell her news later.

“See you later, Thea,” Felicity said as the younger woman disappeared out the door. “Well, she took the Mia news well.”

“I cannot believe what just happened,” Oliver said suddenly.

Felicity turned to him. “What?”

“My sister walk in on us having sex.”

Felicity’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Oh, God, I am never going to live that down.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Oliver tugged back to him. “More importantly before Thea so inconveniently interrupted, you were so close and so was I.”

Oliver’s hand slipped beneath his shirt and realized she hadn’t put her underwear back on, he slipped two fingers insider her.

Felicity gasped, clinging onto his arms, her hips jerking to his thrusting fingers. “It’s not enough. I need more,”

“Good, so do I.” he walked her backward his mouth coaxing her mouth open, giving her a filthy kiss, that had her nipples tightening, brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

Oliver felt his dick throbbing, the brush of his sweats against his erection almost too much.

He ripped his mouth from hers and tugged his shirt over her head, leaving his wife completely naked.

Felicity barely had time to react before he was whirling her around his hand pressing against her back, bending her over the counter.

Her hands caught on the counter, steadying her as he nudged her legs apart.

“Oliver,” her voice was breathy, needy.

She knew what he was going to do and he wasn’t moving fast enough for her.

Oliver pushed his pants down, stepping out of them leaving them both naked, and stepped up behind her and bent over her pressing a kiss to her back. “It’s a good thing we have the whole day to ourselves because I plan on fucking you on every surface of our home and bending you over every desk, table, and counter.”

Felicity whimpered, his words had her sex clenching, needing to be filled.

She was so close to begging but then Oliver gripped her hips strongly as he pushed inside her without warning, filling her completely buried so deep inside her, she swore he hit her cervix.

“Fuck,” she threw her head back and Oliver latched onto her neck, sucking on her throbbing pulse, one hand sliding up to fondle her breast as he began to thrust shallowly, giving her a small taste of the power he carried in his hips.

She was so tight, her walls squeezing around him, sucking him in deeper and the sounds escaping her throat, the low groans urge him on, the instinct to drive into her faster, harder.

When she rested her elbows on the counter and pushed back against him, rolling her hips, his control snapped.

He grabbed her by the hips and started pounding into her the way he craved, yanking her back with every thrust.

Felicity cried out in pleasure her arms slipping, she scrambled for purchase on the counter, her hands holding tightly to the edge, her breast brushing the counter with every thrust.

She hung her head, allowing the pleasure to take over her as Oliver pushed deep inside her. God, it was so good.

“God, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect.” Oliver groaned, she fit him like she was made just for him.

“You’re just saying that-” a gasp spilled forth with a particularly hard thrust that had her closing her eyes. “Because you’re buried inside of me,”

Oliver bent his knees changing the angle of his thrust, somehow going deeper. “I say it because it’s true.” His hand left her hip, pressing his palm flat against her stomach, and sliding up over her breast to press against her collarbone, pushing her back into a standing position, his chest pressed against her back.

“Oh, God,” Felicity groaned, grabbing a hold of his arms, as he pushed deeper and deeper with every thrust hitting that spot inside her that had her seeing dots in her vision.

“God, Felicity,” he groaned as she clenched around him, convulsing, she was close. He could feel it as she trembled in his arms.

His other hand slipped down between her legs, finding that bundle of nerves, he rubbed at it with the pad of his thumb and that combined with his rough thrust had Felicity tumbling over the edge.

She cried out his name as her orgasm overtook her.

Oliver grunted as she came around him, her walls clamping down on his dick, and felt his own orgasm creeping upon him, his thrust became wild as he pushed as deep as he could.

The hand pressing against her collarbone, slid up gripping her chin, turning her head toward him.

Felicity’s eyes were half-lidded, drunk on pleasure. He pressed his mouth to hers, coaxing her mouth open he kissed her deeply. Giving one final deep thrust, he spilled himself inside her, groaning into her mouth.

After several long moments, Oliver broke the kiss, trailing down her jaw to her shoulder.

“I love you so much,” he murmured against her skin.

Felicity gasp as he withdrew from her and on shaky legs Felicity turned in his arms, and pressed her head against his chest, listening to his heart. “I love you more than should be humanly possible.”

Oliver smiled wrapping her up in his arms.

He didn’t care that they were naked. They were alone and he had his beautiful wife in his arms.

And today that was all that mattered.

A/N: I want to take a moment and thank everyone still reading my stuff. I appreciate it and love you all.

Tags: @miriamelle @skyeward-otp @bluassassin @candykizzes24 @iiexplosiveawesomeness @baker151910 @mariestark @darksister8 @1106angel @stolenxkissess @omglovechrissie @myhauntedblacksoul @enigmatica28 @jendiaz69 @bellabex13 @baker151910 @trueromantic1 @memcjo

#arrow #olicity #fanfic #olicity fic #olicity smut #oliver x felicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak #spolicity #fic: the start of our forever

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