#implied plush transformation

[lambsprout]

Halloween Commission for Terenex and a bunch of friends. 2HR Total.

[nymphoniah]

hellooo :33 i've been thinking about old man!logan lately.. could you do something nsfw (specifically overstimulation?) with him and a crybaby!reader? thank uuu!! 💌

pretty when you cry | logan howlett

pairing: old man!logan x crybaby!reader

AN: you absolutely read my mind, anon..! the way in which i need old man!logan is actually concerning to feminism. like im gonna actually go feral. but anyways, hope you enjoy this little self indulgent drabble! <3

content/tags: nsfw, minors DNI, overstimulation, spit as lube, oral sex (female receiving), daddy kink, implied age gap (logan is over 200, reader is in their 20's), afab!reader, swearing, pet names (princess, babydoll, etc.), porn without plot, dacryphilia

there he is kneeling at the edge of your bed—salt and pepper beard glistening with your arousal, his lips placing wet, sloppy kisses against your clit.

he ate you out like a starved man; his tongue was flattened, lapping adeptly between your folds, occasionally pulling away to catch his breath, then continues to work at your cunt.

“so fuckin’ wet for your old man,” he groans out against your womanhood, his hips thrusting into the mattress to feel any sort of friction against his cock. “feels good, huh princess?”

logan teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue, licking a stripe from your sopping hole to your clit, then back downwards. he��d continue this motion, making sure to nudge his nose against your clit every so often.

“s’too much logan,” you whine out, gripping at the tufts of his hair, his beard prickling the soft plush of your inner thighs.

“she can handle another orgasm,” he mumbles against you, speaking to your cunt. he pulls away to admire the mess he’s making of you, and a smirk forms across his face. “isn’t that right, babydoll?”

hastily, he spits on your clit, and his stern eyes watch the way his saliva leaks downwards on your cunt. “such a dirty fuckin’ sight” he grunts, moving his face a mere centimeter away from your womanhood.

he blows air gently against your cunt—the cool breeze of his breath contrasted the ever raging heat you felt down below, sending a shiver down your spine.

your eyes tighten as you hiss out in frustration. logan notices this and lets out a small chuckle, seeing the way you squirmed underneath him.

the calloused pad of his thumb runs between your folds, collecting his spit, bringing it back to your clit. he rubs lazy circles against your bundle of nerves, paying sweet attention to how you writhe.

“can’t do it lo,” you whine, tears forming at the the corners of your eyes from how tight you were shutting your eyelids.

“‘course you can, darling” he encourages you, his broad arm stretching over your torso to reach your face. he cups your cheek with his free hand, his thumb brushing away the tears that continued to fall down endlessly. "y'look so fuckin' perfect like this, all ruined for your old man"

“i know you got another one in you, doll.”

at this point, your brain is all fuzzy; you couldn’t form a coherent thought, and you could only babble logan’s name—or rather, the words daddy… s’too much… fuckin’ can’t…!

“make your daddy proud, darlin,” logan coos, his thumb now rubbing tighter, faster circles against your clit. his mouth finds its way back to your entrance, and he’s now fucking you with his tongue.

as his nose bumped against your clit, along with the added pressure of his thumb, you were a whining mess beneath him. all you could think about was how badly you needed to cum, regardless of how fuckin’ bad it would hurt.

tears rolled down your cheek, leaving splotches of gray against the silky white pillowcase you lay your head on—eyes shut so tight you could see stars floatin’ around.

with a couple of more flicks of his heavy tongue, all of a sudden, that pain transformed to an insurmountable amount of pleasure. “logan..!” you whined, pulling his face closer to your cunt.

“what d’ya want from your old man, huh?” he grunts against you, rutting his hips faster against the mattress, trying to chase his own release. “ask like a big girl for daddy”

“need to fuckin’ cum…” you whimper out, “please daddy, please let me..!” logan smirks against your folds before pushing his tongue deeper, hitting that sweet spot that pushed you past your breaking point.

your velvet walls tightened around his tongue, and he lets out a primal growl at the feeling. your slick coated his mouth, his beard—fuckin’ damn near his entire face.

his thrusts eventually came to a halt, but he continued to lap at your cunt, making sure not to waste even a single drop of your arousal.

as he finally withdrew his face from your cunt, he rested his cheek against your thigh, his gray sideburns tickling your soft skin.

his hazel eyes bore into your own. the intimacy of the silence allowed you to take in the moment and collect yourselves.

letting out a deep sigh, you run your fingers through his silvering hair, tangling the strands between your manicured fingertips.

“knew you could do it,” he murmurs, his tone of his voice deep and sultry. “now doll… what do you say to daddy?”

you let out a little giggle before the words slip from your lips. “thank you, daddy.”

[thesassypadawan]

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve (Clay x Wife!Reader)

Summary: It was a sweet, simple question.  One that you really didn’t take seriously at the time.  Considering it came for the lips of your charming, loving husband.  However after the twins had been put down, along with their newborn (2-week-old) sister, and the champagne began to flow freely.  The wholesome, quiet night in you had planned on…quickly transformed into…

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Oral (fem receiving), premature postpartum oral (implied penetrative) smex, hint of a breeding kink, manipulative/possessive Clay, and…  his skilled tongue/thick, long dick.

Notes:  Happy Holidays, lovelies!  Welcome to track nine of my special holiday mix, What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve! ❤️💚

(Merry Christmas and Happy Belated Birthday, @fuckmyskywalker! 🎅)

- “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”  Words muttered against the soft, crimson streaked skin of your soft tummy.  Gravelly voice rumbling through your tired, bloated body.  Sending sparks of apprehensive excitement to your neglected sore core.  “Mmmh…I can think a few things, angel.”  

- Hands massage and knead your ample, plush love handles greedily.  “Clay…”  Lips trailing, placing reverent kisses along the intricate web of stretch marks.  “It’s t-too soon…”   Descending lower, drawing ever closer to that quivering, pudgy mound.  “I can’t…we can’t…”

- Tongue glides across the delicate, see-through fabric.  Wetting, saturating.  Making it stick to your freshly shaven skin, together with your tacky arousal.  “Don’t be ridiculous…”  While his teeth graze over, canines nip lightly.  Gather up, grab hold of that band of frilly lace.  Pulling and tugging.  Tearing the scanty pair he had ‘lovingly’ gifted you for Christmas.  “Of course we can…”

- Hovering mere inches above.  His hot breath fans and washes over your swollen, soaked silt.  “Tonight is for celebrating…”  A hungry look flickering behind those cool, blue orbs.  As he gazes fiercely up at you from his place nestled between your thick thighs.  “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do…”

- Burying his face, he licks and laps…prods and teases.  Pushing past your velvety folds to wrap around, envelope your sensitive bud with his warm tongue.  Sucking lightly, groaning in contentment…unknowingly vibrating, stimulating that little bundle of nerves.  In a way that has your…

- Small hands fumble, lace through his golden curls.  Back arches slightly, hips rock shyly against his face.  “More, m-more…”  Weakly you mewl, eyes sliding shut.  Quickly losing yourself in how he rubs you deliciously, rolls your cute clit perfectly.  “P-please, more…”  So sloppy, so messy; oh, so wonderful.  “P-please, p-pretty please…”

- “Hmmh…since you asked nicely.”  Answering your desperate pleas; mouth suctions, seals over your tiny hole.  Tongue delves deeply, reaches those place that your stubby ones could never manage.  Coaxing the sweetest, filthiest moans from your parted lips.

- Cheeks go flushed.  That familiar heat rises up inside of you, begins to grow overwhelming.  “I…I…”  Arms and thighs start to tremble, shake.  Pace stutters and falters, becomes uneven.  “Ooooh, I…I…”  Gummy walls flutter and clench.  Breaths come out in feeble, shallow pants.  “Hub-Hubby…”

- Palms migrate, cup your full cheeks.  Squeezing them harshly, firmly.  Anchoring you to him, keeping you securely in place.  All the while guiding, moving you faster.  His tongue circling, plunging fervently.  Growling low…into your creamy center…

- Yanking on his locks, pathetic cry escapes…  Legs lock tightly, squishing and smothering Clay’s head with your pillowy flesh….  Gushing, convulsing…  Completely coming unraveled, undone…

- Spent, exhausted…you lay shaking, spread out on the lavish rug.  The heat from the crackling fire seeping into aching muscles.  Casting an orange glow on your sweat covered body.  Milky chest heaving slowly up and down.  “Th-that was amazing, but I don’t think-”

- “What are you doing New Year’s Eve,” he chuckles, muses.  Running his fingers through your puffy lips.  Gathering your sticky slick.  Covering and coating his painfully hard, leaking length in it.  His eyes locking, never leaving yours the whole time.  “Simple.  I’ll be doing the same as last year and the year after that…and after that.”

- Easily hooking your legs over his broad shoulders.  “Pumping you full, making sure you give me another kid.”  He bullies, forces his fat tip in.  “Don’t care what the doctor says”  And all you can do is take it, because…  “It’s how we ring in the New Year, our little tradition…”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @anakinstwinklebunny, @beresfordsgirl, @kenmaiica, @sythethecarrot, @xx-ttamaraa, @everydaydreamer, @rafeswifeyy2, @laoif, @xhunnybeeex, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @reaperr-of-souls, @erosmutt, @r0ttenz0mb1e, @anisdolly, @milliesrealgf, @ala2ilas-s

@hearts4sammonroe, @pitas-star, @sythethecarrot, @naberriess, @steven-grants-world, @valyna27, @elcaballerodragon, @yayyy5678, @anakinsrilgirlfriend, @padme-urlove,  @brattyyybbg, @mrschr1stensen, @rosie-chan92, @beresfordsgirl, @darthdaddi, @icosmiclou, @whoisgiinaa, @kentaviax, @arcj, @harley-kalani

[aweina]

౨ৎ. UNDER HIS HOODIE ( suggestive ) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. established relationship. possessive + jealous behavior. awkwardness. implied sex + 1.1k words.

mike never let’s you answer the front door, not anymore at least. it was that time when he heard a striking knock on the door — giving your neck a soft kiss before lazily mumbling for you to get the door for him, barely registering the sight of your bare legs and the purplish hues on your skin.

you quietly complied with a dazed smile, rubbing your cold thighs together as you pattered towards the door — halfheartedly tugging at the hem of mike’s hoodie over your bruised neck as you threaded your fingers through the teased strands, rubbing off inky tear stains from your flushed cheeks with another hand.

the door opened slowly, revealing a blonde woman in an officer uniform. the buzzed feeling of after sex transformed into a state of alarm — the aching slouch on your back straightened within a blink of an eye.

it was her. the officer who likes to pry in your boyfriend’s business.

the tapping of her dirty leather boots seemed like she was on a time crunch. arms defensively crossed over her chest, a deadpan look in her face. then her bored blue eyes widened, lingering at your lustrous appearance. the jacket you sported was dark and baggy, blotches of bleach stains dispersed around the thick sleeves and edge of the hood. the smell was familiar too. fresh linen with a hint of herbal cologne. it was his jacket, mike’s.

with the cold zipper pulled down, the peak of your pink bra and cotton underwear was shown beneath the baggy fabric. blossoms of purple and red marking your neck and even sprinkled between the plushness of your bare thighs. your hair was frizzy and tangled, the light smudge of melted makeup painted your face. vanessa couldn’t help but chuckle, her guard faltering.

you looked up and down with a suspicious look, tucking your hands into the warm pockets of his jacket — leaning against the painted cracked doorway. there was an awkward stare down, until vanessa finally spoke up.

“i’ve never seen you before.” she says it like it’s a fact, smiling with a tinge of annoyance.

“neither have i,” you merely replied, shrugging your shoulders with your lips pressed into a flat line.

vanessa raised a brow at that, shifting towards one foot over the other — sensing the tension and maddening heat radiating off your body.

“well … it’s just mike never told me about a girlfriend.” vanessa explains further, a slight strain in her words. you rest your head on the doorframe, a snarky laugh escaping your smudged lips.

“is there any reason he would need to?” if it was possible, your eyes would’ve been glowing with crimson anger.

vanessa shook her head — her blonde locks swaying as she did.

"no, just a little surprised," she admitted, her gaze darting between your defiant stance and your bra strap slowly sliding down.

the silent air hangs thick once again, the standoff between you and vanessa alerting mike from his restless cooking — muttering curses as he wipes his sauce-coated hands before fixing his messy curls.

with an exasperated laugh, mike swoops in between the two of you — covering your exposed form with his clothed body as he tosses an awkward smile to vanessa.

“h – hey vanessa. what’s up?” mike can feel the burning glare on the back of his head, but he simply grasps your hand with a soothing warmth.

“had fun last night?” vanessa quips, watercolor eyes lingering towards the lipstick smudge on his neck and the deep bite marks trailing underneath the loose fitted shirt. she couldn’t even ignore the streaks of red staining his wrists, obviously clawed by your sharp nails.

mike opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed too shy to utter a word. yeah, he’ll admit, it was obvious the both of you had sex.

finally finding the courage to project his voice, mike slowly nods, scratching the back of his marked neck nervously. "uh, yeah, it was ... eventful."

you quietly peered over the tense scene, tugging away from his restraint to wrap your arms firmly around his waist — resting your head teasingly against his shoulder. there was a sly smile plastered on your rosy lips, hearing mike’s quiet groan from your sudden embrace.

“mike is busy, can you please leave officer vanessa?” you added a playful pout to your venom-laced request, casting an exaggerated look of annoyance at vanessa.

mike shifted uncomfortably under the weight of menacing stare down, trapped between your flush, bare body and the half opened door — under the judgment of vanessa’s knowing gaze. he feigns a small cough, an apologetic smile forced on his blushing face, silently mouthing a “sorry” towards the officer.

vanessa nods in assurance, noticing your rogue touches lingering beneath mike’s waistband. he stumbles a bit, holding your hands in place with a firm grip.

“a – alright. i will.” she holds back an amused laugh as she peers up at the blush ridden mike then to your cold glare, immediately turning towards mike. “so mike … i’ll see you tomorrow around —”

before vanessa could finish her sentence, the door was forced shut with a loud slam — your foot being the culprit for the disruption.

mike cringes and turns around, meeting your sparkling eyes and forced smile — the corners twitching with aggression. he cannot help but chuckle at your possessiveness, wrapping his own arms around your neck as he gives your jaw a soft kiss.

mike cringes and turns around, meeting your sparkling eyes and forced smile — the corners twitching with aggression. he cannot help but chuckle at your possessiveness, wrapping his own arms around your neck as he gives your jaw a soft kiss.

“seriously?” mike mumbles as he leans in to add another mark, tasting your honeyed perfume while he tugs your tight skin between his teeth. your aggression seems to melt under his mouth.

“she’s nosey.” you whine in his ear, scrambling to grasp on his curls when he suckles on a sweet spot.

“she’s harmless … i think.” mike mouths against your freshly marked jaw, ogling down at your soft breasts and thighs — spilling out the tightness of your revealing garments, shadowed by the wrinkles of his jacket.

he pulls away, a sheepish look on his face. mike brushes through the thick knots of your hair — a little reminder when it was threaded between his fingertips, every tug sent you whimpering and singing his name through the night.

“but just don’t … don’t open the door without any clothes this time.” he begs, zipping up his jacket to preserve last night’s activity — a little too late to feign modesty. “or answer the door at all.”

you smirked as you turned towards the kitchen, continuing mike’s cooking routine that was luckily not smothered in flames and spiced smoke.

“no promises mikey.” your smug answer left mike grinning, defeatedly locking the front door with a loud click.

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[dissensionads]

𝑺𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆.

Welcome  to  Volner-Downe  Inc.,  where  progress  is  not  just  measured—it  is  curated.  You’re  about  to  embark  on  a  journey  toward  personal-professional  harmony,  powered  by  our  proudest  innovation:  the  Dissension  Procedure™.  This  patented,  board-approved  neurological  separation  offers  participants  the  ultimate  gift—a  life  unburdened  by  labor  or  personal  pains  better  left  at  home.  Imagine  waking  up  refreshed,  unaware  that  another  version  of  you  has  been  contributing  tirelessly  to  society’s  advancement.  No  stress.  No  guilt.  No  pesky  memories  of  filing  reports  or  sitting  through  time-inefficient  meetings.  Just  you,  at  your  best—half  the  time,  all  the  reward. We  understand  that  new  developments  can  raise  questions,  even  mild  emotional  fluctuations  ( don’t  worry—we’ve  accounted  for  those ).  Please  know  that  all  Dissension  participants  enjoy  top-tier  medical  observation,  plush  ergonomic  seating,  and  curated  social  interactions  designed  to  maintain  morale  at  industry-leading  levels.  Should  any  adjustment  period  occur—say,  a  brief  disorientation,  the  occasional  mirror  hallucination,  or  a  strong  emotional  response  to  sunshine—our  Cognitive  Reintegration  Specialists  are  fully  equipped  to  assist.  Such  incidents,  of  course,  are  exceedingly  rare,  and  often  resolved  with  herbal  tea,  light  recalibration,  or  a  brief  nap  in  our  Reflection  Pods.  We  take  pride  in  rewarding  exceptional  behavior,  whether  that’s  through  commemorative  pins,  snack  vouchers,  or  a  featured  spot  in  our  quarterly  Employee  Luminary  Ledger. We  at  Volner-Downe  believe  that  one  day,  humanity  will  see  the  Dissension  Procedure  not  just  as  a  milestone,  but  as  a  moral  obligation.  Why  suffer  from  the  weight  of  dual  responsibility  when  we  can  tidy  it  up  for  you?  The  self  is  a  luxury  that  was  never  meant  to  multitask.  So  relax.  Unclench.  Your  Outie  is  safe,  your  Innie  is  productive,  and  your  endowment  to  our  future  is  already  happening; so  we  thank  you  for  your  contribution—however  subconsciously  rendered.  Welcome  to  Volner-Downe  Inc.™:  Your  life,  organized. Please  note:  Volner-Downe  Inc.  is  not  liable  for  any  deaths,  surgical  irregularities,  loss  of  cognitive  integrity,  spontaneous  emotional  eruptions,  or  permanent  dissociative  consequences  resulting  from  participation  in  the  Dissension  Procedure™  or  any  adjacent  sub-protocols.  By  proceeding,  you  accept  all  terms  as  lovingly  implied.  Thank  you  for  your  service—even  if  you  don’t  remember  giving  it.

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚.

THE  HOUSE  OF  DISSENSION  is  a 21+  original,  psychological  horror, drama, and political  roleplay  set  in  a  retrofuturist  2028,  where  identity  has  become  a  product,  obedience  a  prescription,  and  silence  the  only  permitted  rebellion.  Inspired  by  Severance,  Succession,  The  Sims,  and  Control,  it  explores  corporate  surveillance,  manufactured  realities,  and  the  ghost-like  aftermath  of  partitioned  lives.  The  aesthetic  is  mid-century  modern  gone  sterile:  sleek  chrome,  synthetic  smiles,  and  cocktail  parties  hosted  beneath  the  glare  of  hidden  cameras.  Centered  around  profound  character  evolution,  embracing  dark  narratives,  intricate  personal  journeys,  immersive  world-building,  and  transformative  plot  developments  designed  to  challenge  your  character  and  reshape  the  very  fabric  of  their  reality. This  world  is  curated  to  the  point  of  collapse,  built  on  a  foundation  of  inherited  power,  manipulated  memory,  and  the  slow,  aching  horror  of  being  erased  while  alive.  More  information  will  be  declassified  on  May  18th.  Until  then—remember  your  place,  repeat  your  mantras,  and  above  all  else:  we’re  happy  to  be  here.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘, 𝗙𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗪 𝗢𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 & 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗗𝗜𝗕𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗦 !

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 91)

(TW: Sexual Abuse)

They were almost to the second pod. Thank Robo-God.

N was slightly ahead of them, doing scan after scan with each of his different eyes as they inched closer, it had fallen in what used to be a small park… but was now a frozen lake of ice.

The pod was mostly intact barring the fact it's landing legs had snapped and it was half buried in the ice of the lake and covered in snow. The door was stuck open, but there wasn't any sign of life, and especially no corpse spire that would indicate anyone lived there.

“I wonder why you guys are the only dissasembly drones we've seen…” Thad pondered aloud, and both N and V gave a small unknowing shrug.

“I'm not sure… these pods imply that there should be more don't they?” N replied, his movements slightly sluggish from not sleeping last night.

“Let's not jinx it, it's a good thing we haven't. We'd probably have to fight them.” V added, Lizzy at her side looking tired from sleeping on the ground.

“V's right. It's probably a good thing.” Uzi nodded, Tera was curled up in one arm - not asleep, but nibbling on her bat plush gently.

“We could take ‘em.” Lizzy hummed with a smirk, and V smiled. “Love the attitude, but a full squad of dissasembly drones would be a hard fight, even for me.”

“Aww, V being humble, never thought I'd see the day.” Uzi teased and V growled back in response, tail flicking in irritation.

“Shut up! I can still kick ass you little shit!” She seethed, ans Uzi couldn't help but laugh as V grumbled and growled at being teased.

Khan slid off the forklift, grabbing a metal rod and prodding the frozen lake, the ice was completely solid at it's bank, though visibly got lighter the closer you got to the pod.

He called over his son in law

“Hey! N! Need you for a sec!” She shouted from across the caravan group, and N gave Uzi a small kiss on the cheek before he took off and landed next to the older worker drone.

“I need you to check out the pod on the ice, see if it's thick enough for us to drive the lift over.” Khan pointed to the precariously placed pod, who's bottom was entrenched in the lake itself.

He nodded, that was a simple enough task.

His wings stretched out again and he softly landed on top of the pod, which didn't even budge with his added weight, he shook it, jumped on it, anything he could think off the test if it would move.

“Looks pretty good!” He shouted back, and Khan nodded. But shouted back. “Check the ice around it! Make sure it's not too thin!”

He lept from the top of the pod to in front of its entrance, scanning the thickness of the ice with the myriad of sensors that covered his body.

The ice was thick… but the pod was putting significant strain on it already, large cracks furrowed deep into it. Still the only still liquid water he could sense was under 5 feet of pure ice, and so long as they were careful…

He decided to take a look inside the pod, maybe by some miracle some of it was still functional.

No.

But N did find out what happened to the occupants almost as soon as he stepped inside.

There were three bodies, dissasembly drone bodies. And all three had the same severe warping of their chassis, and the scorched hole where their cores should be.

They had overheated, either immediately or soon after making landfall as the pilot hadn't even left their chair before she began melting to it, molten plastic clung to her coat.

They all had that same, silvery blonde hair, which made it feel more like he was looking at the bodies of his siblings then anything else. He sighed, although this was probably better for the group then finding a squad of three hungry dissasembly drones, he felt bad… overheating was such a slow way to go.

A red glint caught his eye.

He shifted his gaze downwards to the floor.

There was a pristine little JCJenson pen slowly rolling towards him, confused, he bent down and turned it in his hands, what was this doing here?

The door slammed shut behind him, plunging him in darkness for a moment while his vison switched into night mode. He backed up against the console, immediately switching to a sword as he frantically looked around.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

His core stuttered still, the familiar voice of business casual and customer service experience running through his audials and making all the oil pumping through him run ice cold. Phantom pain flared in his tail.

“J?” His voice was shaky, this was impossible J was dead, he'd destroyed her core, he'd run it through with his tail until is dissolved into nothing- how? How was this possible?

Five balls of light suddenly flickered on next to the door, a long tail with a yellow, glowing tip reveling itself behind a feminine silhouette, her visor flickered on- an ‘><’ that was unblinking and unwavering.

“The one and only!” She sneered, taking a step closer to him, his eyes hollowed and he used every ounce of energy he had not to tremble.

“Y-you died.” He forced out, still not being able to believe what he was seeing, he'd watched her die.

“Effective drones are cloned more.” She smirked, dread filled the pit of his stomach, she was between him and the door, him and safety.

“You don't look too happy to see me… aren't you glad your leaders alive and well?” She asked, dripping with a kind of patronizing professionalism that she always used when talking to him, he hated it, he hated it.

He growled, fear lighting the fuse into anger.

“You should've stayed dead.” He grunted, it was venomous- so much unlike him but oh did it feel good, he stood up a little straighter.

“Ouch. That's hurtful, N.” She pouted, and N felt his fist clench as she began to move slowly towards him; his confidence wanted to fade, he felt the urge to cower, to beg for forgiveness, to falter.

He didn't. He wouldn't.

“Get out of my way.” He spat, eyes sharpening into a glare that V would be proud of, J stopped for a moment.

“Ooooh~ Such attitude~” She mocked, a fake shiver going up her spine. “Last time I checked though. I was your boss, not the other way around.” The faux freindlness in her voice fell, blessedly.

N stepped forward, closing the gap between them with a speed that startled the former leader into stepping back. His claws flexed, his visor glitched into an X.

“I said. Get out of my way, J, NOW.” The way his voice echoed around the pod was enough to make his own audials ring. J lifted an eyebrow and gave a too-wide smile.

“You don't scare me.” She laughed, one of her claws tapping on the glass covering of his core, his stance faltered breifly. “I know what makes you tick…”

“N? You alright in there? The door slammed shut.” V's voice echoed from the shut door, J looked over to it, grinning.

“Tell her everything's fine…” She whispered, and he grunted when he realized she'd grabbed his tail, She grinded her finger roughly against the canister.

He was still growling when he hit the floor, furious more then hopeless.

“N?”

“V! Mph It’s!”

She yanked on his tail harder, and he had to muffled the scream that wanted to escape.

Instead of Fear, like she wanted, there was anger that was boiling over, instead of obedience- it was rebellion.

“ITS J! SHE'S GOT MY T-AGH!!” He was swiped in the face by claws, and J angerly growled. “You little fucking-”

The door was blasted open, V was there, missile launcher aimed at the door, teeth bared and a wild look in her eye.

V wasted no time in grabbing J by the throat and tossing her out onto the ice for all to see, she looked back at N.

“Are you okay?” She asked, watching as N used the busted console to pull himself up, his tail brushed the floor and he let out a grunt of overstimulation.

“I'm fine.” He growled. “Don't worry about me.” He gestured to J, who was almost stood up on the ice again, and V nodded, throwing herself into battle with duel swords.

“I was aways a better fighter then you.” J hissed, blocking a blow with swords of her own. And V hissed back. “I don't care!”

V kicked her former leader in the midsection, making her grunt in pain but not double over, V brought out a rifle instead.

J immediately took off into the air, dodging the stream of bullets that erupted out of the tip of V's gun, a wild smile on her face.

“Aww did I upset you too? Didn't like the way you were disciplined?” She jeered, and V seemed to get more angry at that.

“Shut the fuck up!” She screeched, unleashing her wings and claws and straight up tackling the cocky drone back into the ground.

“I didn't know you were doing that to N too!” She yelled, landing a decent shot that cracked Js visor before she was able to push V off and fly back into the air

She just shrugged. “The best discipline is consistent. It just worked on you better.”

V's yell of rage was loud, but not quite as loud as N's, who came streaking from above to kick J in the head so hard she broke through the ice, splintering it in several places and making the whole lake shake in a shockwave.

“You too…?” N asked gently as he landed, and V looked away, either ashamed or embarrassed. “I don't… wanna talk about it.”

N nodded softly, keeping it as a note for later.

J Clawed herself out of the icy pit, soaking wet and visor just now completely healing.

“Insubordination! I come back to see you and this is how you repay me! I-” Her gaze twists, Thad and Lizzy are creating a barrier around Uzi and Tera, but Uzi is trying to watch, to make sure N and V are okay, and J sees her, sees her and the little toddler in her arms who looks scared.

“Oh…”

“Ooooh…”

“Now I get it. You got attached…” Her grin turns feral, and N and V both realize where she's going a second too late, she's already off, throwing Thad and Lizzy to the ground and picking up Uzi by the front of her shirt. Uzi yelps and kicks, J looks her up and down, landing on her distended stomach, running a clawed hand down it gently.

“Awww… is this N or V's?” She purred, eyes then flicking to the toddler who started screaming in fear, clinging to her mother tightly “Or both?” She snickered.

“Let me go!” Uzi spat, growling as her tail comes out in an attempt to bite, but J just grabs it, her fingers are grating and it sends an unpleasant shiver up Uzi's spine.

“Oh. I plan to.” She tosses Uzi like garbage, and Uzi quite literally throws Lizzy Tera in hopes that she'll be spared from whatever J has planed for her, Lizzy catches her, thankfully, and Thad covers them both in a body block.

N moves first, pouncing on J but getting shoved roughly back into the ice, V goes for Uzi herself, trying to get her away from danger like her instincts were screaming at her to, but she gets her head kicked and her vision goes into exclusively thermal.

Uzi tries to scramble away, spines prickling out of her back as she tries to run, fight or flight kicking in and self preservation choosing for her.

She gets picked up again, this time by the tail, J ignoring the spines peircing into her fist and holding her up upside down- right above the hole in the ice.

Panic grips her and she squirms like a caught rabbit, trying to claw at her captor or kick or… something. J sneers.

“You two clearly can't be trusted… look at this!” Uzi feels herself be shaken like she's actual trash. “This is disgraceful!”

Then… she's dropped.

The ice comes to envelop her faster then she can react, she hears not only N and V, but her father scream her name. She's plunged into sub zero waters, the temperature taking her breath away as she sinks like a stone.

N stares blankly, every thought in his head instantly evaporating into nothing. Mouth hanging open in shock.

In another second, it feels like his core snaps in half, every single light on his body turns red, and a primal scream rips from his throat as he throws himself at J with all his might

She doesn't even have time to react before one of her wings is ripped off by his claws, maw clamping down on one of her arms ad that too is detached from her body. She screams in pain.

“What the- No! Get off me! Get off me!” She struggles to get away, she kicks N's midsection as hard as she can but he doesn't even react to it, he's drooling all over her, visor stained in a crimson X as his tail whips around to peirce her visor, dumping every drop of acid into it without control.

He grabs the base of her tail and pulls, and he doesn't stop until it snaps off in his hand, a feral, euphoric laugh erupting out of his throat as tears prick in her visor. She kicks and kicks but even as his side breaks open with the force of her blows, spilling out oil he doesn't even flinch.

It's only when she fires a missile point blank at his face that she's able to get him off, throwing him backwards, headless.

She looks between the group, V, fishing her hand inside the hole she dropped Uzi, a downed N, before hoisting herself up, flying away into the distance, though off balance due to a missing wing and visor leaking golden acid she can't contain.

It was cold… so cold…

It felt like ice was invading Uzi's core, bubbles left her mouth as her heavy, titanium body sunk deeper, any attempt to go up only forced her deeper.

Until something glowing yellow grabbed her wrist and hoisted her up, she gasped for air as she was suddenly able to breathe again, everything on her sopping wet. Her optics opened a crack, V's tail was what brought her up, and now she was being held as close to her as possible, the heat radiating off her and into her frigid body.

[CORE TEMPERATURE CRITICAL!] Was written on her visor, V tried to to think about that too hard as she cradled the small worker in her arms, core beating out of her chest.

N groaned, head regenerating, and he looked around confused for a moment, processors lagging behind until it all hit him at once, he rushed over to his mate, ignoring the intense pain in his side and his splitting headache.

“S-she freezing, her bodies in shock, N what… what do we do?” V looked up at him, something desperate, apologetic.

N grabs the cold body of his mate.

“Make sure the pod gets back home safe… I got this.”

Then he's off; grabbing Tera on the way as he flies as fast as he possibly can to the warmest place he can think of…

The Nest.

Next ->

[sepublic]

            King really has a whole thing about being seen as a toy, a pet, for people to own and play with without his permission. An object to look nice and pretty and not much else, without any wants or needs of his own.

         So it feels very poetic that he constantly surrounds himself with toys and plushes to command over; King’s whole Tyrant schtick isn’t just a fantasy for him, it’s a way for him to reclaim lost autonomy by exercising his own control. It’s as if King FEELS like a toy, so he commands other toys because he’s essentially one of them. And it reflects on his juvenile nature, not being taken seriously, the revelation that it’s only ever been pretend, etc.

         That makes King’s relationship with Francois very sweet, as a toy from the human world he finds, no thanks to Luz helping him. Luz is someone whose physical cuddling and affections King DOES appreciate, because by the end of the day, Luz respects King as a person and his boundaries. King wants affection actually, but he wants it on his own terms, and there’s a lot of moments where he ‘commands’ Luz and she happily obliges, defends him, etc. Luz is very thoughtful of King’s feelings, and The Intruder is a major episode in which Luz learns to be more mindful of King in general; This of course wins the approval of his father the Titan, who decides to show Luz the light glyph for her kindness.

         But anyhow, King loves Francois and treats him kindly, often as a partner and even equal. So with all I’ve said about King’s toy motif, that transitions perfectly into his dynamic with the Collector. There’s the fact that in their initial interactions, the Collector glomps onto a clearly uncomfortable King, like a child with a pet he doesn’t quite understand is a living creature (and in King’s case, not just a pet either but a person). Dana’s own art encapsulates their relationship by portraying King as a terrified plush that the Collector loves;

         The Collector is also juvenile and loves to play pretend, and treats people like toys, which is exemplified by them transforming victims into literal toys, who are dressed up to look even prettier. But for all their issues with boundaries, the Collector seems to genuinely love and value their toys, kind of like King with Francois.

         This contrasts them with Belos, whom they believe breaks his toys out of fun; That speaks to their different desires, hence the Collector insisting they want to make friends out of others, whereas Belos finds it more simple and satisfying to just destroy his enemies. So the Collector regards his toys as, well, toys; But with a sort of loving respect that a kid who takes good care of their toys and makes sure they’re taken care of does. A projection of feelings and personality… Over the actual feelings and personality that DO exist, but alas.

         But that’s where the Collector’s relationship with King develops, because over the course of two months, they begin to respect and listen to King more, value him as a friend, etc. The Collector is more mindful of King’s boundaries, doesn’t immediately glomp onto him, actually bothers to respond to King’s criticisms. When King says the Owl Beast isn’t ready, they listen, and it’s implied the Collector has known about King visiting Eda and Lilith behind their back, but simply allowed it because friends keeping secrets is totally normal, right? And anyhow, King has been so nice, and they love King so much, they don’t want to call him out and ruin things; He can have this.

         Which leads to Francois, whom King relates to; The toy that the Collector WANTS to cuddle with. But King sets the boundaries that it’s for him (and Luz) only, and the Collector actually listens. He doesn’t touch Francois behind King’s back, and aside from a moment where he has to take it from Belos’ grasp to defend Francois, puts it right back where it belongs. He can’t have Francois, but the Collector can settle for having him BE there, so close and yet so far.

         King is Francois; He’s a beloved toy to the Collector that he loves and appreciates, treats more special than the rest, and practically as a person, a lot of the time. But he’s willing to respect Francois’ boundaries and not play with him when he doesn’t want, just as he does with King, and his visits to his mother and aunt. The Collector obviously has a lot to learn when we check up on them two months later, and King understandably still IS frustrated, hence why he calls out the Collector after the nightmare illusions at the beginning of the series finale…

         But King can tell, as a former, unruly child himself, who was only a non-issue because he lacked the power the Collector wields; The Collector is a kid like him. Who’s also learning. Who ultimately means well. And they’ve proven to be rather receptive over these two months; Not quite there, but if you put in the effort to teach and work with them, King is certain it’ll pay off as it did with him.

         The Collector was a tyrant like King, and like King, a lot of this comes after being helpless because of others as well; The Collector was put into the care of the manipulative Archivists, and later trapped by the Titan. The only way to contact them was with a disc, an object, and their word was exploited by Bill so he could lead the Titan Trappers and finish the genocide of the Archivists. If the Grimwalkers were toys to Belos, so was the Collector, for him to hide away from everyone else, as his own, like a twisted Francois. And when he’s done with the Collector, he drops him into the pit with the rest of the discarded toys he loves to break.

         So like King, the Collector being a tyrant isn’t just the result of kids being kids, it’s also a response to their lack of agency. And tbh, kids in general lack agency, hence why they can be quite unruly troublemakers and rebels, so it makes sense that the Collector also overcompensates, like King does! But both of them learn to be more mindful of boundaries, that their own pain doesn’t justify them doing the same to others, either.

         The Collector notes that King isn’t the only person allowed to touch Francois; There’s also Luz. Luz, the kindly older sister who always listened to King and was attentive to his needs, respected him, and was often desired for physical affection. The Collector wants to BE Luz since King admires her so much, hence emulating her while playing Owl House; And Luz also recognizes their similarities, with the forgiveness she gives the Collector, being a form of forgiveness towards herself for being an ‘unruly’ child.

         And the Collector also grows, has their loss of innocence, but nevertheless matures, as Luz did. They learn about death, just as Luz learned about death when she lost her father; And the Collector technically loses the Titan that night, who was arguably a turbulent father figure who failed them, too, and laments this fact to Luz. The Collector IS Luz, and like Luz in The Intruder, who gains the approval of the Titan with a light glyph, just as the Titan apologizes for the Collector and lends his power to protect them and others…

         The Collector mends their friendship with King and makes it real. They respect and listen to him completely now. And so they get to finally be Luz, not just in their relationship with her, but also in their relationship with King, being allowed to love Francois, even being given him for company by King. Just as Luz is allowed to be King’s friend, and he follows her regularly, even sacrificing himself for her at the end of Season 2.

        King and the Collector are toys who want toys to reverse that dynamic; But in the end, nobody can be a toy. And so they grow up and get to play with actual friends, and be friends to others.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 44

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.6K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The days stretched on into weeks and the absence of news about the conflict between the Night Court and Autumn Court gnawed at your stomach like a knot. You kept telling yourself that no news was better than bad news, but it did little to ease your worries. Trying to distract yourself, you threw yourself into community housing projects and outreach work. Living in the apartments now, you saw firsthand the changes that needed to be made - everything was too dull and lifeless. Despite hoping that residents would bring their own personal touches to make the place cozier, many of them had nothing more than the clothes on their backs. It was then that you decided to create a fund for hiring interior designers from Velaris' fashion districts to liven up the homes. However, many of them were hesitant to step foot into the lower end of the city, let alone work for its impoverished residents. But there were a few generous souls who gladly offered their time, resources, and expertise to help transform the complex. Plush carpeting, fresh paint, and cozy furniture slowly brought life back into the once dreary space.

Your days were now consumed with work, keeping busy whenever there was a moment of quiet. But despite your efforts, thoughts of Azriel lingered constantly. You wondered what he ate for dinner, if it was anything like the delicious chicken curry that one of the mothers had spent all afternoon preparing but didn't have enough ingredients to feed everyone. Did he reach for you in his sleep, searching for warmth and finding only cold sheets? Did he gaze at the moon and feel comfort knowing you were both living under the same night sky?

As promised, Rhysand came to the apartments three times a week, bearing trays of delectable desserts made by Elain and fabric swatches painstakingly chosen and sent by Nesta. Even though you often found yourself lost in thought, trying to discern the minute differences between the fabrics, Nesta still desperately sought your opinion on the nursery. It was an odd sight, seeing the High Lord of the Night Court seated in a too-small apartment, perched upon a rickety second-hand chair. The residents would bow down in reverence at his presence, but he would just give them a soft smile, urging them not to treat him as anything more than a visitor. You rolled your eyes at this statement, knowing all too well that those who saw him with such admiration would be shocked to see him lounging in an oversized chair in his library - feet propped up in pajamas while Nyx curled into his lap, both of their hair tousled from sleep. It was a familiar scene for you now. How had you become so intimately acquainted with the most powerful male in all of the Night Court?

Your conversations were solely focused on practical matters - discussions about the housing project, funding allocations, building permits and requests for aid. You often also worked on your shielding practice. But there was one question that lingered in your mind - if you were able to build up that barrier between you and your mate, could you return to the safety of the Townhouse, to Azriel? Although a part of you wanted to ask Rhysand for his plans regarding your future, you hesitated. You thought it better to live in the naivety that if you just worked hard enough on your shielding you might be able to go home instead of the more probably reality that even if you could keep everyone out, you wouldn’t be allowed back until everything had been resolved.

—

The bed was like a slab of concrete, the sheets coarse and rough against your skin as you lay on your side. The darkness of the room seemed to press in, with only the faint light from the streetlights outside casting long shadows of trees onto the ceiling. The branches swayed and scraped against the window, causing an eerie rhythm that matched the howling wind outside. You squinted at your clock, trying to make out the time. Was it nearing three in the morning? It felt like hours had passed since you crawled into bed, but sleep still eluded you. With a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back, feeling the cool lace of your nightdress brush against your fingers. The blankets were suffocatingly warm, so you kicked them off, only to be met with a sharp chill from the drafty windows that refused to seal properly. Another thing to add to your never-ending list of things to fix within the apartments.

You slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the hard mattress beneath you as you sat up. Rubbing your tired eyes, you took a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room. With a sigh, you stood up and your toes touched the cold wood floor, sending a shiver through your body. Your back ached with exhaustion as you walked over to the desk on the other side of the room. Flicking on a small lamp, you pulled on the cozy wool cardigan that was draped over the chair, still warm from when you had thrown it there earlier in the day. The thick material hugged your body as you settled into the desk chair, surrounded by stacks of papers waiting to be sorted through. The desk was cluttered and much too small for all of your work, so instead of working there, you often spread everything out on the floor like a giant map. But tonight, it was too late for that, so you simply grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and started writing a letter to a contractor who could potentially fix your broken windows.

As you wrote down a few words, a cool breeze brushed against your ankle, causing you to look down in surprise. But there was nothing there. You shook your head, pushing away any creeping feelings of loneliness or sadness. Brushing a strand of hair out of your face, you continued writing. Suddenly, another chill ran up your leg and you couldn't ignore it any longer. Pushing away from the desk, you got down on your hands and knees to investigate.

In the corner of the room, two shadows darted up the wall and disappeared into darkness. You let out a light laugh and whispered out into the empty space, "Hello." Your voice caused ripples in the darkness and for a brief moment, it seemed like something was stirring.

"It's okay," you whispered again, beckoning them closer. "Come down!"

One of the shadows hesitantly crept out from the darkness, moving along the top of the wall like a cautious cat. "Don't be shy," you encouraged with a soft laugh.

The shadow paused for a moment, its edges rippling and shifting in thought. Slowly, it started to make its way down the wall, eventually morphing into a thin line before dissolving into a pile on the floor. "Come on," you whispered, crouching down and reaching out your hand.

The other shadow, slightly smaller than the first, followed suit and slithered down the wall towards you. It stayed close to the floor, wrapping around your ankles as it cautiously approached. As it touched your fingertips, you could feel the coldness of its touch enveloping your hand in a grey fog. But as it recognized your touch, it seemed to gain confidence and began moving more quickly up your arm.

You couldn't help but giggle as the cool tickle of the first shadow joined by another, both climbing onto your lap and wrapping themselves around you. The first shadow seemed to have a mind of its own, making its way up your body until it reached your neck, sending a shiver down your spine with its chilly touch. It then weaved through your hair, lightly tugging at strands as it hid behind you while the second shadow curled around your thighs and settled in your lap.

"Did he send you?" You whispered. The shadows seemed to quiver with excitement and you took that as a yes. "Is he doing alright?" The shadows seemed to pause momentarily, their movements becoming more drawn out as if considering your question. You couldn't bring yourself to hope for good news as the shadow on your lap curled down towards the floor. Suddenly, it slithered over to the lamp, coiling around the adjustable arm and then rearing up as though it was looking right at you. You raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What?" The shadow continued its slithering path, occasionally stopping to seemingly look at you.

You stood up and approached the lamp where the shadow seemed to pause in its journey, staring back at you. "What do you want?" You asked, reaching out to touch the lamp and adjusting the arm slightly downwards. The shadow halted its movement so you stopped yours as well. But when you started moving the arm of the lamp back up, the shadow picked up its pace again. You soon realized that this was how it communicated. As you turned the lamp upwards, the light illuminated against the wall, casting bright rays against the otherwise bland beige paint. In what seemed like pure excitement, the shadow scampered down your arm and back up again before joining its companion on the wall.

You took a cautious step back, your eyes locked on the two shadows as they seemed to merge and shift against the wall. The darkness coalesced into a swirling mass, like ink spilled on a canvas, until it finally split apart into two distinct figures. The larger shadow moved to one side of the light while the smaller one slunk to the opposite, as if in a dance.

Feeling a chill run down your spine, you retreated further onto the bed and pulled the rough wool blanket over your legs. As you watched, transfixed, the larger shadow began to take shape - sharp edges forming and an image materializing before your eyes. It was a male figure, with wings that resembled those of a bat. Your heart caught in your throat as the other shadow also shifted into a silhouette of a female.

The two shadows turned to face each other, their postures mirroring that of two lovers leaning against a windowsill. But then, the larger shadow split into two smaller pieces that scampered across the wall towards the female figure. With awe, you realized that these shadows were telling you a story - how Azriel had sent them to comfort you in his absence.

A small smile tugged at your lips and you felt tears prick at your eyes - tears of joy and longing. But you quickly blinked them away as the shadows morphed once again, shifting back into their amorphous forms before intertwining in the center and taking new shapes.

This time, it was the familiar outlines of Azriel and yourself. The two shadows embraced, their arms wrapping around each other in an intimate embrace. You could almost feel Azriel's kiss pressed gently into your hair - just as he always did when you hugged.

The shadows danced and shifted, creating a mesmerizing display of figures in the dimly lit room. Azriel sat at his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he ran his hand through his hair - a nervous habit that you had grown to love. In one swift motion, he crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it away from the light, where it disappeared into the darkness.

You chuckled softly as the shadows transformed again, this time into the muscular form of Cassian with his signature half-up bun. Beside him stood Nesta, her pregnant belly rounded and glowing in the dim light. She delicately hung stars and moons onto a mobile, while Cassian worked on something below with a hammer in hand. The pile of materials suddenly transformed into a beautiful cradle, which Cassian proudly presented to Nesta.

So he had built it after all, you thought to yourself with a smile.

Cassian wrapped his strong arm around Nesta's shoulders as she rested her head against him, her hand gently tracing over her stomach. The scene before you was one of pure love and contentment, and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell at the sight.

The shifting shadows revealed Azriel, standing on a balcony overlooking the moonlit city below. The other shadow, representing the moon, soared upwards as Azriel reached out to touch it with one hand. But his posture was hunched and tense, back rising and falling as though it was sobbing. Your own tears mirrored his as you watched Nesta approach him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The shadow of Azriel turned and fell into her embrace, continuing to cry.

The scene shifted once again, showing the shadow of Azriel and your own shadowy figure walking together, hand in hand in slow motion. As you continued walking forward, the shadow of Azriel suddenly stopped and reached back for you. Your shadow turned to face him and he rushed towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up into the air with joy. A bittersweet laugh escaped your lips as the shadow of Azriel brought your figure close to his, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

In another scene, the shadows depicted a family dinner with Cassian, Azriel, Rhysand, Feyre, Nyx, Lucien, Elain, and an empty chair. As the shadows sat down to eat and a somber silence settled over them, even little Nyx remained still in his seat. The shadow of Azriel looked towards the empty chair – your chair – and you could feel their longing for you.

Once more, the shadows shifted to show Nyx standing on a platform with Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys at the edge of a lake. The shadows moved like waves over the water as Nyx took a running leap off the platform, his small wings flapping furiously before giving out and sending him plunging into the water below. The shadow of Cassian erupted in laughter while the shadow of Azriel pretended to winnow down to rescue the little boy. The scene repeated a few more times until finally, Nyx took a running leap and his wings caught in the air, allowing him to flap upwards with pride. The shadows of the three males on the platform joined Nyx in the air, their wings unfurling in celebration. He had learned to fly, something Feyre had been so worried about.

The shadows danced and shifted, revealing scenes from your old life that you had never truly appreciated until now. Moments with Azriel stood out the most - curling up on the couch together, wandering through the vibrant streets of Velaris. As they settled into place, the cool touch of the shadows caressed your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine. One shadow even reached out to brush away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. You let out a soft sniffle and whispered, "Thank you."

In response, the shadows seemed to flicker and settle further around you, as if trying to comfort you in their own way. You allowed yourself to fully absorb the sensation of being enveloped by them, knowing it was Azriel who had sent them, directing them to show you what you had missed and how much he longed for you.

Feeling grateful, you shared your own memories with the shadows, including a few moments that you knew would make Azriel blush for slightly different reasons. With a smile, you thanked the shadows once more and watched as they dissipated into the night, carrying your love and longing back to their master who was surely missing you just as much as you were missing him.

Readers: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria

@florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt

@quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

@annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardust

@caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf

@acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninne @weepingwerewolf

@hauntedpiratenacho

[love-archer]

More to love. . .

♡ pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 (You're here!) ♡

♡.Obey me!

♡♡.TW? SFW! Pregnancy, Fem!reader, Implied couple

♡♡♡. Two years brewing in my drafts 😵‍💫

. . . A S M O D E U S !

♡ Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust and embodiment of beauty, isn't typically associated with family life. Your fingers trace the lab report nervously. A baby. Your baby. His baby.

♡ That’s what’s whirling in your head as you stare at the lab report in the waiting room, fingers trace the laminated papers  nervously

♡ Would he accept this slowly or would he freak out? Wait, how can you tell him? Text? Drop it in a conversation randomly? Do those cute pregnancy reveal on Deviltube?

♡ The moment you decide to tell him is during a rare quiet evening in the Devildom. Asmodeus is meticulously applying his nightly skincare routine when you enter the bathroom, lab report clutched behind your back. "Darling?" His perfectly arched eyebrow raises, sensing something different in your demeanor. You slide the report onto his marble vanity, next to bottles of expensive serums and perfumes. His eyes widen, scanning the document. Silence. Then

♡ "PREGNANT?" His shriek could shatter glass. Dramatic reaction confirmed: tears sparkling like his favorite glitter eyeshadow  he launches himself into your arms. "A BABY? MY BABY? OH MY HELL!"

♡ His brothers will definitely hear this announcement. Lucifer will probably pinch the bridge of his nose. Satan would smack his door down, "Quiet down!". Mammon will immediately start calculating potential 'baby sponsorship' schemes with his modeling sessions. ♡ Asmodeus's excitement rapidly transforms into hyper-planning mode. ♡ Within days, he's calling every demon realm's top pediatric specialist. The pediatric specialists he consults aren't just doctors - they're the crème de la crème of the Devildom medical world. He has Solomon double-check their credentials and even gets Barbatos to recommend time-tested professionals who've dealt with human-demon pregnancies. ♡ He's ordering custom designer maternity wear for you (in matching sets, naturally). The maternity wardrobe he designs is EXTENSIVE. We're talking: silk robes with delicate demon realm embroidery, stretchy but luxurious dresses that "showcase your divine glow", custom pajama sets with his sigil subtly woven into the fabric, special occasion outfits for each milestone of pregnancy, even the undergarments are designer, because "comfort and style should never be compromised!"

♡ He's set into drafting elaborate nursery designs with themes ranging to "Royal Demon": Rich crimsons and blacks, with plush velvet and his signature roses to "Paradise Garden": Soft pastels with ethereal touches, butterfly motifs, and enchanted flowers that never wilt or to "Modern Devildom": Sleek lines with pops of neon, metallic accents ♡ Speaking of the nursery, with his never-ending favors to call in, he'd corner Leviathan or rather pester...

♡ "Leviiiii~ Don't you want to be the coolest uncle?" ♡ Finally, Leviathan would agree to use his brains and the cluttering materials in the ever-dim room to make a baby mobile. He'd throw ideas like Crystal flowers that catch and reflect light like anime sparkles or Something engraved with Asmodeus' mark in hot pink or one with a mirror....perhaps? ♡ From the moment pregnancy becomes real, Asmodeus persuades yoga into your monthly schedule after days with his sweet voice tugging you off the couch to pin you in his bed, cuddling and his hands rubbing your hips, his fleeting kisses on your cheek, "My darling.......Tension isn't good for either of you. Let me take care of those muscles."

♡ His idea of prenatal yoga is pure luxury - transforms his room into a private studio with scented candles, silk cushions, and ambient lighting. "Ambiance is essential for both beauty AND wellness, darling~"

♡ Always positions himself behind you during poses, hands carefully supporting your waist. "Just like that, love. Let me guide you..." His touch is surprisingly gentle, more caring than flirtatious.

♡ Gets absolutely delighted when the baby moves during sessions. "Oh! They're already developing my sense of rhythm!" He'll pause everything just to feel the movement, pressing soft kisses to your belly.

♡ Creates a special pre-natal skincare routine for you, researching safe ingredients for hours. His bathroom counter becomes divided between his products and yours, all labeled with cute heart stickers.

♡ Insists on documenting everything. Weekly photoshoots of your growing bump, decorated with flowers and silk ribbons. Has Solomon enchant a special album that captures magical 3D memories.

♡ The first time he holds the baby, his usual perfect composure completely dissolves. Tears pool at his eyes, but for once, he doesn't care. Keeps whispering "perfect, perfect, perfect" while counting those tiny fingers and toes.

❦ © love-archer 2024, all rights reserved ❦

[kumquats-are-gay]

Johnny Cage x Reader (NSFW)

18+ (MINORS DNI)

Hey, fuckers, I finally made some of the Johnny Cage x Reader content I promised. Just spent the past five hours writing this instead of doing my homework, lol. I imagined MK1 Johnny Cage for this, so it reflects his specific personality the most, but you could probably imagine a different Johnny Cage. I plan on writing for daddy/DILF MK11 Johnny Cage at some point, too.

Anyways, if you know me irl, then dear god please do not read this, and do not mention this.

...unless like, you enjoyed it and want to talk about it in a good way, ya know? Otherwise just ignore it. You can judge me silently, just please not to my face. K, thanks. Lmao.

A/N: If people enjoy this enough, then I'll take some time to make a gn!reader version of this later! Beta read by me (extremely unreliable) and pasted directly from Google Docs, so pardon any weird formatting.

Words: 2,688

Tags: female!reader, afab anatomy, smut, kind of rough smut, safe sane and consensual, fluff, full Nelson position, creampie, implied breeding kink (it's there for 0.2 seconds), sexual photography (only at the beginning portion), light overstimulation, Johnny is absolutely smitten with you, feelings, Johnny is also a total goofball, Johnny is a horndog

Please lmk if there are any tags you think I'm missing and/or should add! <3

Edit: Here's the AO3 link!

✨You're Something Else✨

He flipped over to the inner camera and curtailed his pace as he angled his phone this way and that, getting the perfect framing. Of course, he had also taken care to angle his dick just right and surprised you with one harsh thrust against your bundle of nerves. The noise you made was borderline pornographic. And, as you’d find out, so was your expression. You heard the sound of a synthetic camera shutter, and the knowledge of what that meant sent a different shudder throughout your body. 

“Take a look, babe,” he breathed into your ear before bringing the screen close enough for you to get a good look. “God, we’re so hot.” You struggled to keep your head up so you could look; it repeatedly threatened to loll over as Johnny slowly swiveled his hips this way and that. He seemed to pick up on your troubles, but mercy wasn’t part of his arsenal today. “C’mon, focus, hon’,” he huffed, a tad petulant, and grabbed your chin with his free hand to at least keep you facing forward. His movements didn’t relent, however. Johnny’s chin was hooked over your shoulder so he could look at the picture some more, too. “Here, why don’t you hold it?”

You grabbed the phone and were able to gather a modicum of your wits and senses, just enough to cut through the blurry glaze over your eyes. There you were, held tightly within Johnny’s thick arms. One of his hands was squeezing your breast. A sliver of your skin could be seen gripped between a glimpse of his teeth. The flash caught the glistening sweat that covered your bodies. Oh, and your face bared one of the most fucked-out expressions you think you’ve ever seen on someone. All in all, it was an incredible picture. He had a knack for the camera, you’d give him that. Johnny couldn’t seem to agree more, too. You heard his appreciative groan as he studied the picture yet again, his cock twitching within you.

“Fuck, gonna get that one framed,” Johnny said through nearly-gritted teeth. You wondered in bewilderment just where he would put it.

He dropped the phone onto the mattress, ignoring it in favor of using both of his now-free hands to grab your waist and roll the both of you over. He pushed himself up and back against the headboard with your back still pressed against his firm chest and gripped the underneath of your plush thighs in the process. His sweaty palms slid up to the undersides of your knees, which were soon replaced as he hooked his elbows underneath them instead. In a display of strength, he effortlessly pulled your legs apart and backwards, keeping them held there. You hissed just a little at the pain; your hamstrings weren’t ready for a sudden stretch like that. But you bore through it, for you knew the outcome would most certainly be worth it.

He strained your legs just a bit more, pulling them further back in order to get your arms in his grasp, too. His wrists were pressed against the front of your shoulders, and he topped it off by threading his fingers together behind your head, clasping his hands against the base of your skull. You could feel his warm palms bearing down on the back of your neck. You obeyed and yielded to the applied pressure by allowing your head to be pushed and angled downward.

And, just like that, you were practically immobile. He had you in a body-lock impaled on his dick. In other words, you were utterly at his mercy. God, his cock was already pressing against places you didn’t think were possible to reach—you could only imagine what it would feel like once he got go- “AH!”

“Sorry about that,” Johnny laughed, sounding completely unapologetic about the sudden, sharp thrust, “looked like you were thinkin’ real hard about something.” If you had more control over your mental faculties at the moment, perhaps you would have rolled your eyes in something other than pleasure. “Probably thinking ‘bout my cock, huh?” he tacked on, as if he needed to elaborate upon the obvious implication of his previous statement. You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you nonetheless. You tried to cover your face, but gave a plaintive cry when you remembered that your range of motion was extremely inhibited right now. Johnny chuckled behind you; your attempt at hiding yourself hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Johnny,” you whined, knowing fully well what saying his name like that did to him. Right on cue, you felt his dick twitch violently against your walls, but the man held fast. The realization that you wouldn’t be let off the hook so easily caused a delicious little knot of anxiousness to form in your belly.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I wanna hear you say it,” he huffed against your hair. In a retaliation that doubled as a last-ditch effort to break his resolve, you clenched around him. This prompted a soft grunt to fall from his lips, but nothing more happened. He remained almost statue-still.

Feeling resigned and a little humiliated, you managed to whimper, “I-I was… thinking about your- your… cock…”

Johnny hummed in approval and rewarded you with a few thrusts, albeit rather shallow ones. You nearly wailed when he stopped again just to whisper into your ear, “Good, that’s good, babe, but I want the specifics; give me the dirty details.” The hands laced behind your neck kept you from throwing your head back in frustration.

“Johnny!” you cried out with more intensity than the last time. Johnny shuddered lightly, then blew out a focusing breath. He unlocked his fingers so that he could soothingly stroke your hair.

“C’mon, babe, you know I’m not gonna judge you for what you say, and it’s not like you’re sharing your thoughts with me unsolicited; I’m literally asking to hear them,” he cooed as he continued to mollify your flustered, frayed person. “And let’s be honest: you could say pretty much anything and it would turn me on.” You laughed in the form of a sharp exhale while a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. You couldn’t believe this man- he could be totally serious one moment, then have the humor of a teenage boy the next. It nearly gave you whiplash. Through it all, though, you heard the pleading sincerity underneath. No matter what, he was always so earnest with you—heartfelt to a fault. You loved him for that, and for many other reasons that would take too long to list. He wanted you to trust him, and you did. Wholly.

You sighed, though not in exasperation, and relaxed in his grip; you would have fallen forward if it hadn’t been for strong arms holding you up. The only thing that fell back was your head which now rested on his shoulder. Always an opportunist, Johnny took this moment to suckle at your exposed neck as you gathered your words (though his consistent mouthing made that a bit difficult). “I was, um… thinking about your- your dick, and how it would… feel in this position, f-fucking me.”

Johnny outright groaned this time, no longer feeling the need to hold himself back as you finally began to confess. “Yeah?” he prompted.

“Y-yeah…” you swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing, “‘cause it feels deep- deeper than usual.” At long last, you felt him start to move, causing immediate relief to flood your system. But you weren’t done; he had been so sweet when asking you, after all. Plus, the noises he began to make served as fuel for that fire within you, scorching and tantalizing all at once. “A-and just- ngh- how far you… hah, could- could come inside me.”

“Holy shit, yes,” Johnny gasped with excitement. His pace grew even more rapid after hearing your admission. “Gonna fill you to the goddamn brim-” he was almost panting now, “-and fuck my come so deep inside of you that- ah, fuck- that, soon enough, everyone will know who you belong to.” Another deluge of molten lava surged through you, responding to the implication held in his filthy words. Yet, you were helpless in this position to do anything about it. All you really could do was allow yourself to be used as Johnny’s personal fleshlight, but you didn’t mind. He bullied himself into you relentlessly, sparing you not a single moment of his love and lust for you, and the squelching sounds that echoed throughout the room were downright obscene. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking wet,” Johnny breathed. Your thighs were sore and you knew your voice would be scratchy tomorrow with how he was making you scream to the high fuckin’ Heavens and back. Your muscles begin to repeatedly tense and relax, a sign alongside your high-pitched keening that you were quickly approaching your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed at the intense stimulation you were providing. His grip turned vice as any inhibitions of his that were left (read: very few) were thrown out the door along with the metaphorical key. “Fuck…fuck!” He kept your thighs and arms squeezed between his biceps and forearms, leaving you unable to do anything but take it. It seemed like Johnny wasn’t very far behind you, but you needed just a little bit more to reach your release. So, naturally, you began to beg.

“Plea- GUH- nn…ple- h-ease…! Touch- hah…need-!” you sputtered, barely able to form a single coherent word with just how ruthlessly he was jackhammering into you. Knowing you and your body well by now, Johnny was able to interpret your nearly incomprehensible request. 

“Be good for me, baby,” he groaned. Johnny then released one of your arms and legs as he slid the respective hand down your torso—lightly pinching your tit on its way down—and over your sex. “Be a good girl and come for me,” he demanded before he pressed his finger against your clit and began to apply pressure in movements of tight little circles. It barely took five more seconds for you to come. You practically convulsed on his lap, your body jerking this way and that as pure ecstasy overtook every fiber of your being. Being the gentleman that he is, Johnny fucked you through it all, riding the wave of your frenzy alongside you. 

Oversensitivity began to inevitably settle in, though, and Johnny was still tearing through you like a bull in a china shop. Though the mingled pain and pleasure felt amazing, you weren’t sure how much of it you could take. Just as you were about to voice this, Johnny fiercely shouted your name before you felt the unmistakable warmth of his semen saturating your insides. He held you tightly against him as he continued shooting ropes of cum into your throbbing, awaiting pussy, all of which you readily accepted as you milked his cock with unrivaled greed. The peak of his pleasure seemed to go on for a while before he eventually began to simmer down. His whole body relaxed and he repositioned his arms around your waist while he eased his grip. 

It took some time for the both of you to regain your breath. Johnny’s fanned over your neck as your own grazed his collarbone. After some time you felt both of your hearts begin to settle, beating in and out of synchronicity. Johnny pressed a kiss against your temple, eliciting a contented sigh from you.

“God, you’re so hot,” Johnny proclaimed.

“I thought we were both hot?” you asked, parroting his statement from earlier.

“Well yeah, we are; I wasn’t People’s Sexiest Man Alive last year for nothing.” You actually did roll your eyes in amusement this time—would he ever stop bringing that up? “But, you? God, you’re…” he trailed off, momentarily at a loss for words (an extraordinarily scarce occurrence). Your heart skipped a beat as he struggled for what to say. “You’re just something else, you know? I don’t know how else to describe it—you’re just…amazing. Smart, funny, supportive, sexy-” he lowered his voice as he spoke the last word and drummed his fingers against your sides. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was wiggling his eyebrows like a fool. You lightly backhanded his shoulder for his antics, but he only laughed and grabbed your hand before you could pull it back and laced his fingers with yours. “Okay, no, seriously though, you always have my back no matter what I do or say, even when you know I’m wrong, as rare as that is-” This time, you used your other hand to softly smack at his chest. He laughed again, and you couldn’t help but giggle with him, especially when he did as you had expected and grabbed your other hand and also intertwined it with his own. After your snorts and snickering died down, he decided to kiss the tip of your nose.

“‘Something else’, huh?” you mirthfully repeated with a gleam in your eye. Johnny looked at you like a lovesick fool with those big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

“Something else,” he firmly restated as he held your gaze. You couldn’t help the shy, soft smile that adorned your features.

“At the risk of overinflating your ego, I have to say that I also find you to be ‘something else’,” you expressed, and then decided to elaborate,” “underneath all of that muscle, bravado, and good looks, you’re a big softy who has a heart of gold and lots of love to give, and I wouldn’t rather spend my time with anyone else.”

Johnny’s expression had morphed into a mixture of disbelief and awe by this point. He didn’t say a word—just continued looking at you like you might have hung the moon and the stars. It was a little overwhelming, though certainly not unwelcome. And then the goofiest grin you’ve ever seen on him suddenly stretched across his face, reaching from ear to ear. The look was completed with a single quirked eyebrow.

“You think I’m good looking, huh?”

“Oh, my God,” you groaned exasperatedly, but you couldn’t help the hint of amusement that seeped into your voice. “That’s it, I’m sleeping in the other room.” Though joking, you let go of his hands and made to get up, but Johnny’s reaction was instantaneous; he pulled you back against him, and only then did you realize that his penis was still inside of you as you felt it shift during the sudden movement. 

“Nooo, stay here,” he whined petulantly. He reaffirmed his grasp around your waist and kept you in his lap, snugly wrapped around his cock. Your stomach fluttered a little bit at the feeling of still being full while his seed dripped down along your perineum. 

You made an exaggerated sound of irritation, clearly putting on an act, and dramatically exclaimed, “Ugh, fine, I guess I can stay for a bit longer.”

“Knew you couldn’t resist my charm,” Johnny hummed into your hair, muffling his voice a bit. You just shook your head and smiled.

“You never miss an opportunity, do you?”

“Nope!”

You chuckled again before settling in against him, squirming around a bit to try and get comfortable. “You gonna pull out anytime soon, oorrr…?” you inquired.

For a brief moment, he acted like he was actually going to think about it, then quickly replied, “Nah, don’t think I will.” Though you weren’t opposed to the idea, this was certainly a new behavior from Johnny. You furrowed your brow.

“And why’s that?” 

“Hmm, I said I was going to fuck my cum into you,” he recalled like he was telling you about yesterday’s weather. And just like that, the dying ember that resided in your abdomen flared back to life. You could hear him lick his lips, which was followed by a nibble at your earlobe. He purred against it, “or have you already forgotten?” You could feel him beginning to harden again inside of your abused cunt.

Oh, this was going to be a long night.

[faegoddessog]

Feyd's Gom Jabbar

DUNE 2: Missing Scene (my own take)

Summary: Lady Margot Fenring is on a Bene Gesserit mission: test and preserve the genetics of the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. She is well aware of his deranged pleasures of choice. Armed with her Pain Box, Gom Jabbar, her Voice and her substantial wiles and wits, she delves into Feyd's world. She is unprepared, however, for her own reaction to his... attentions.

WARNINGS!! EXPLICITLY MATURE CONTENT, 18+, NOT for the faint of heart, this is a dark story for a dark character.

This is a hard turn from my usual writings, so reader beware. This is NOT Austin... this is Feyd. He is sadistic, uncaring, aggressive and ambitious.

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

⚠️⚠️Warnings: hickeys, biting to draw blood, minor blood play, pain, sadism, beating with a belt, restraint, degradation, pussy spanking, breeding, implied prior abuse of a child, vocal manipulation and control, hard PIV, choking, mentions of knife play⚠️⚠️

⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️

A/N: It is unclear if Feyd is 17 Geidi Prime years or Standard Galactic years. (1 SG or earth year = 2.6 GP years) So take this story as you will as far as age goes. I am a DUNE fan and have tried to layer world tidbits into this story.

PSA: This fictional depiction of BDSM is brutal and inspired by the characters from DUNE part 2. It is not meant to misconstrue BDSM or it's community or defame the rightful owners of the DUNE franchise. This is just pure S&M fantasy/fun. Before you play in ANY kinky way please garner consent, please discuss the scene, please set up safe words and please remember your aftercare. Safe, Sane, and Consensual my loves!

@austinbutlerslovers, @elvismylove04

Feyd’s GomJabbar

He is kneeling in front of her, though he does not know how he got here. His hand is in a box and his keen senses feel the sharp needle point at his neck. 

Lady Fenring is sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed. She is saying something about seeing if he is human through pain. The corner of his lip curls and he blows a short breath through his nose. 

‘Pain,’ he thinks to himself, ‘does this woman think I don't know pain just because I am na-Baron? I knew how to deal with pain before I was 10 standard years old.’

She sees his smirk at the idea of pain. Most, when the test is sprung on them, drop immediately into panic, even if they try not to show it. 

“You are not afraid?” she can’t help but ask. 

“Pft, there is nothing here to fear,” and he nods his face toward the box. 

She closes her eyes, turning on the nerve pain inducers with her Bene Gesserit Prana Nervature abilities. 

When she opens them, he is staring at her with cold, snake-like eyes. His lips, not set in grim acceptance, but lightly closed, amused, waiting. 

An itching, a burning, these are nothing to Feyd. Then the pain shoots like lighting through his fingers and palm, radiating out the back of his long fingered hand. 

As the pain increases, his eyes close and his naked forehead scrunches together.  The most sensual of moans rumbles in his chest. His plush lips twitch and his head tilts to the side. 

The only way to survive the kind of upbringing he had, was to delve into the pain, transform it into pleasure. 

His other hand is on her knee, kneading creeping incrementally up her thigh. His lips part as a breathy ‘oh’ leaves his lips. His head drops back as his eyelids flutter. 

“Yes,” he breathes out as though her lips were wrapped around his cock. 

She realizes with a jolt, it’s like foreplay for him. Curious, she increases the pain past where she should.  

His abs contract, and he moans as his eyes fling open to stare at hers. The predator she sees in those dark orbs internally shocks her. But her training has been far too thorough to show it. 

“Remove your hand, human.” she says in a metered tone, releasing the pain from him. 

“I need one of those,” he says in a low voice. 

“You wouldn't be able to use it if you did,” she counters.

He slides his hand from the box, not even bothering to look at it. Using it instead to wrap around the back of her neck. His other hand immediately runs up her thigh to her hip. He pulls her lips to his in a demanding kiss. He is so aroused he is about to press himself upon her. All he can think is how he wants to fuck her bloody. 

His desire was unexpected. There was no protocol for this kind of behavior. But the way his lips moved on hers, steady, exacting and completely in control. She finds herself drawn to him, despite his playboy reputation.

“{{Stop, remove your clothes}}” Having registered him in the hallway to draw him to her room, she knew exactly what pitch of Voice to use to control him. 

She uses the subtle ways, the ones that just seem a suggestion to the target and they still know what they are doing, even if they don’t really have a choice. 

His taut muscles relax, he stands and immediately divests himself of his outer Kurta, then belt, tunic and trousers. He stands in front of her naked. The alabaster skin was expected, indicative of living under the black sun of Giedi Prime. But his sculpted physique is magnificently breathtaking. He looks as if he was chiseled from the very bones of the planet.  His wide, muscled shoulders and chest rising and falling as he breathes deep. The V of his torso is echoed in the V of his waist, drawing her eyes down to his lengthy cockstand. Erect, willing, waiting.  He is stunning. It’s not always that a Sister is sent on this kind of mission and gets such a gorgeous specimen. She is going to enjoy this far more than she expected.

She leans back on the foot of the bed. The graceful arc of her hand pulls the diaphanous black  dress back, revealing the long slit up the front. Her bare legs are long and supple. They open to reveal a bald pussy, already wet and waiting for him. 

Her Ovulation Ritual completed, her eggs wait, ready to receive. In the AfterRite, she will consciously dispel any male zygotes and select the most vigorous female to be implanted, to carry the formidable genetics of this specimen. 

She releases her voice-hold on him. Wondering what he’ll do. 

Feyd looks her over as though she were a meal and he likes to play with his food. He doesn't just stick his dick in her like some hormone driven youth, he has a certain twisted honor about him.  He inhales her scent, her pheromones calculated specifically for him, now that she has kissed him and sampled his genetics. He growls, animalistic and predatory.  

“You are truly beautiful, Lady. I’m going to enjoy having my way with you. I’m going to watch that pale skin welt maybe even bleed before I fuck you,” as he speaks, he kneels down on one knee, a hidden hand reaching for the belt atop his pile of clothes. 

Lady Margot doesn't flinch at his words. Pain training is the first thing she mastered in the Bene Gesserit school.  Her eyes flash in desire at him. A little pain, a little blood spilled; this is a small price for the extraction of his genes. 

He leans in and  puts his mouth on her creamy inner thigh.  Licking with that long tongue, sucking her flesh hard into his mouth. He lifts her legs, knees bent wide to her torso. Her cunt open and wide to him. He licks and sucks, and licks and sucks. His long fingers gripping her thigh.  He is methodical, leaving a neat row of oval bruises like garters around her inner thighs. 

The  repetitive lick, suck, twinge of his work starts to lull her body into false expectation. Her mind knows better, it will get worse. And truth be told, she kind of hopes it does. She is curious to see if the rumors are true. 

Her pussy is dripping, the scent intoxicating to him, although missing the sharp scent of fear he usually likes. He delights in breaking in new slaves in the pleasure wing. Their dread smells and tastes so delicious. He smiles up at her, a monster in sexy clothing. He nestles his face back into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and bites hard. The sharpened black canines drawing blood.

She yelps at his harsh bite, but keeps herself exposed to him.

His long tongue extends, the tip dragging a line of dark red  up her leg.  He pulls back, watching the liquid worm it’s way down and drip off her. His cock twitches in response.  He repeats on her other side. She moans above him as his teeth sink into her silky flesh.

She, like him, must be a student of the beauty of pain and pleasure, he decides. This must be why she sought him out. Well, he will give her a night she will never forget, something Count Fenring, the eunuch, could never do. 

Her blood, nearly black in the light of his dark planet, stains his chin, he makes no move to wipe it off. Seeing his heightened arousal, she directs her body's response to the wound. Tells her platelets to back off and she lets her blood continue to drip, drip, drip. 

His belt, previously draped over his bent knee, is now folded in two in his fist. He licks the blood from his lips as a deviant smile spreads on his chiseled features. She truly is a gorgeous creature, and creatures should be domesticated. Broken. 

She waits for the blow that is sure to come. 

He holds the black strap between his two hands, and in an obviously familiar motion, snaps the leather onto her thigh. Not experimentally, not to see how she reacts, he knows exactly what he is doing. 

She yelps again, then moans, transforming her pain into pleasure, as she was taught. Her legs stay open to him. 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you pet,” He hits her again on the other thigh, ”Don’t you!” he snarls when she doesn't respond, hitting her harder.

“Yes” is all she breathes. To her surprise, she finds herself believing it. 

“Oh wouldn’t it be fun to keep you,” his snake-like voice slithers over her. “Imagine it, my personal highborn pain whore, secreted away in my chambers. I’d strap you, beat you,  every night. Decorating your body somewhere new, before I fucked every orifice you have. I’d use your blood to jerk off and make you sleep in pools of blood and cum.” As he casually talks, he is  beating her with the strap of his belt. Punishing her bite wounds, spattering little droplets of blood onto her thighs, her pussy, his forearm and fist.

“But you are Lady Fenring, wife to the right hand of the Emperor himself. You’d be missed.” He  pushes his lips out in a mock pout. “So I suppose I’ll have to settle for this.” 

Then he does it, brings the belt down hard on her pussy. With no warning, she gasps and her body coils, trying to protect her exposed and dripping vulva.  She should have been prepared for it, she immediately thinks. She has been letting herself dip too far into his sadistic scene. This scene where the only safe word lies in her use of the Voice and her wits. She must pay attention to the mission.

“Heh heh heh,” his smile is lopsided, psychotic. His eyes narrow predatorily. He saw that spike of fear, he smelled it. He is beginning to get somewhere now. 

“Now, now,” he jerks her legs apart, ”open up, I’m not done, Lady.” 

The crack of his belt on her pussy resounds in her ears, pain burning like lightning.  This time she is ready for it and keeps her body still. Once, twice, three times more he cracks her most sensitive of skin. She winces by the end. His black-toothed smile wide, enjoying her willing anguish.

“Now, Lady-pet, do you want this?” his hand is on his cock, leaving dark red-black streaks up and down his shaft. 

She nods.  She finds, when she allows herself to look into her own desire, that despite the pain, despite the fact that it’s what she came here for,  that she does want it. She wants to feel him in her, and not just for her mission, but for herself. She looks up at him,  giving him the exact parting of her lips, the exact mix of desire and fear in her eyes, the exact tilt of her head to make him want her, to need to be inside her. 

Sex, pain and desire, she knew now, would be the way to truly control him. How easy it would be to make him her pet, to bind him to her as she probed his deepest subconscious, planting the safeguarding phrases she was ordered to do. Easy to make him hers.  She would call him to her with the promise of tortuous pleasure that only they could give one another.  There were rumors that the Baron’s plans included Feyd on the throne. What a thing would that be, fucking the Emperor when she needed it, when she wanted it. Secretly controlling him with her whispered words in his ear while he was his most vulnerable, post orgasm. He could be her path to true power. 

His tongue runs along the black line inside his lip, considering how he wanted to fuck her.  He grabs her hands,  the belt cinching down around  them. He yanks her to her feet, the lace dress covering her. He drags her around the bed, throwing her down onto her back. He lashes the belt to the convenient D-ring sunk into the headboard, anchoring her arms above her head. Giedi Prime was harsh, but convenient for the truly depraved, even in the guest wing.  He doesn't bother with the bodice of her gown, though he thought ripping it off her might be a good way to scare her further. 

But no, he is only interested in the blood on her legs, in the warm wetness of her pussy. He doesn't like breasts, they remind him of his hated mother. He tilts his head, like a wolf, looking at her half naked form. She truly is a gorgeous creature.  Creatures should be domesticated. Broken. 

She lets him bind her, albeit haphazardly. She allows it, noting he is far too aroused to do it properly. Besides, she knows she can get out of it with a word. 

“Now, Lady,” his voice is like sandpaper smooth yet harsh at the same time, “I’m gonna fuck you harder than you’ve ever been fucked.”  

The words seep into her, she libidinously opens her legs, staring at him, willing him to sink his cock into her.  Her pussy is open, waiting, wet, and not just from her mind/body control. She startled by how much she is actually turned on by this beautifully dangerous beast of a man.  This must be why they sent her, something the Reverend Mother saw in her, that made her perfect for this mission. 

He steps away, fumbling in his pants pocket and produces a personal poison snooper. It’s about a handspan long and cylindrical. He reaches down, pulling her lips apart, straining her skin. She moans as the sensations shoot to her core. 

“Can’t be too safe,” he says to her.  He activates the wand and shoves it inside her, moving it roughly around. He’s lived his whole life in House Harkonnen, he knows better than to just trust a willing woman. He himself has used Rossak or Elacca microneedles to ensure his victories in the gladiatorial arena.  He is struck with the idea of installing one in the thigh of one of his uncle’s slave boys. Now that he is the proclaimed heir, it is only right that he should attempt to assassinate the Baron. A deadly smile spreads on his lips at the thought. The poison snooper beeps twice, finding nothing. He tosses it back on his pile of clothes.

He swipes the blood, still dripping but slower now,  across her labia with his hand, brings it to his mouth and licks it off his palm. The coppery taste of her blood mixing with the saltiness of her juices. He is no longer able to stand it, she is like the perfect fuck toy. The way she takes what he gives her. He knows he can’t treat her fully like he does his pleasure slaves, making shallow cuts high on their white bodies, so that the blood drips down onto their naked skin as he fucks them. She is a lady and a guest, afterall. In all honesty, the blood was a risk, but it was his birthday, he could get away with it.

He spreads her again with the fingers on one hand, guiding his beautiful, huge cock just barely into her. He watches her lips part for him, stretch around him. He loves the sight of himself plunging over and over, dominating the flesh. 

“If you were my pet, I’d put a ring through this little jewel,” he pinches her clit lightly between thumb and forefinger, “with a long chain. I would lead you around with it.  Pull on it and watch your face,” he squeezes cruelly, “do that.” 

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. Pain and pleasure rocket to her core. Her pussy grips the head of his cock, closing tight. He thrusts into her deep and hard, ramming her open again. 

{{{“Listen Feyd,”}}} She slithers into his mind with the strongest Voice, trapping him.   His eyes glaze over, his hips slow, fingers still, waiting for her orders.  She whispers the spell of binding, the spell that plants the Bene Gesserit control over him deep into his subconscious, should they need it, should she need it. She smiles as she adds her own twist, embedding in him a deep desire for her that would activate with a word spoken from her lips. It’s only fitting, she decides, since it is her blood, her pussy on his cock, that is sealing this witchery.

{{“Fuck me, Feyd,}} She  slowly lessens her intense hold on his mind. He resumes thrusting. 

{{“My clit”}}, his thumb scrapes at her clit. 

She is so full, so turned on. She has actually never used the Voice in sex before. The power is intoxicating. His fingers are rough on her clit, but it’s what she wants, what she needs right now. He feels so fucking good inside her over and over. 

His cock is pumping in and out of her, his own pure pleasure plain on his face. A lifetime of programming dropping away in his tranced state, as though he had taken Semuta and was hearing the sweet music. He was feeling the simple, timeless ecstasy, probably for the first time in his life. It strikes her, that without the twist of cunning in his mouth; the narrow calculating eyes; the constant state of awareness of a potential poisoned blade at his back, he was unequivocally beautiful.  What a man he would have been, had he been born into a different House. Revered instead of feared. A jewel to be coveted and honored. No doubt, with his natural intelligence, would have already been promised to one of the Emperor's daughters, if not to Princess Irulan herself.   His child would be stunning and they would never let him know she existed, lest he twist her. 

His face begins to contort in rapture, she can sense his passion rising, his hips speeding up.

{{“Don’t you cum, Feyd.}} He immediately falls back into measured thrusts. 

{{”That’s it, fuck me, rub my clit,  make me cum on that strong cock,”}} he works her clit between his fingers and his beautiful cock in her cunt.

It is so good, pushing her higher. Then she is seething, her pussy wildly contracting as he keeps plowing into her. Her eyes blink, her mouth hangs open before a throat ripping scream issues forth.  She jerks, hips thrashing under him. Her hands are pulling at the restraints she never even thought to make him remove.

The tambor of her scream breaks the hold over him as she cums.  He blinks, fingers digging automatically into her hips. He sees his cock in her, sees her writhing. He is unsure what happened in the past few minutes, Has be been fucking her? Did she use her witches powers on him. Surely not, she is still tied up. She would have made him remove those. No, he just got lost in pleasure, too lost. He growls in distaste, he is always under control.  His fingers tighten on her thighs and he feels the hard edge of the Pain Box secreted in the folds of her dress. He needs to refocus himself. 

He fishes out the box from the fabric, laying it on her belly. 

She frowns, panting from her pleasure,  not comprehending what he means to do, she won’t use it on herself, she can’t. She remembers her own Gom Jabbar. She vowed never again. Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam was notoriously… thorough with the Box. 

She shouldn���t be surprised when he shoves his hand in the Box. 

“Do it,” is all he growls. 

She shakes her head but uses her mental powers to turn on the pain, just a little. 

“Ahhhhh” he tosses his head back like before, his voice box protruding from the front of his throat.  His hips move slowly, pushing himself in and out of her. Her blood on the front of his hips spurs him on. 

“More,” he moans. 

She obliges, her pussy still spasming as he fucks her harder.

As the pain ramps up in the Box he roars, staring right into her face. She is captivated by him. His hips snap hard against her. 

{{“Cum Feyd, cum in my quivering slit”}} her pitch is a little less than perfect. 

He pounds into her, hard, harder, harder still. Truthfully, she starts to cum on his cock once more, losing her mental grip on the Pain Box. 

He yanks his hand out. The Box clatters to the floor. He grabs her by the throat. True fear flashes in her eyes, her orgasm stalled. Without access to the Voice, she is at his nonexistent mercy. His hand is wrapped tight on the sides of her neck, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. How could she have let it get this far? His eyes are dark glittering jewels, staring directly into hers. Her fear is exactly what he wanted, what he needed to push him to the point of no return. 

“No hexes from you, filthy pain slut of a witch whore,” he seethes, “you’ll take what I give you, take my magnificent fucking cock you dirty, dirty gorgeous highborn fuck toy.” All the venom from his twisted mind spews from his mouth. He fucks her relentlessly, now pursuing his release with single minded intent. 

Her orgasm is laced with fear but builds quickly with the decreased oxygen to her brain. It erupts as he grips harder on her throat. Her whole body shakes under him, her pussy contracting in undulating waves on his thickness. 

“Aaarrrrrghhhh! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” he pushes in impossibly deep, his cockhead erupting agasint her cervix, his seed boiling from him. His eyelids, his arms, his hips; all tremble violently as he unloads, raging into her. 

He stares into her pin-point pupils, panting. He won’t say it, but she was magnificent. The best fucking plaything he’d had in a long time. 

His grip on her throat is the last to loosen.  The blackness playing at the edge of her vision. Quickly, she amps up her oxygen intake to compensate.  

He smiles at the dark bruises already blooming on her long, graceful neck. 

He climbs off her, making no move to release her bonds. His long cock still half hard, muscled body rippling and shimmering with sweat. Fuck he really was unrivaled in the glory of his body. 

He casually  picks up the black pile of clothes, not deigning to put them on. He is na-Baron. He will have his slaves dress him.  He stands at the foot of the bed, surveying his handiwork:  the tight pattern of oval bruises on her thighs, the blood smeared across her legs and pussy, the trail of his cum left by his withdrawal from her slit, the handprint ringing her neck, the red welts on her white skin, the equally red marks on her wrists.  God he wanted her again and again, wishing he was in his own chamber, his own instruments of pain and pleasure to hand. He would have made this night last forever. 

“Know this, Lady Fenring,” Feyd hisses demonically, “you and your tight witch’s cunt will never be the same. No man will ever match me in your whore pussy. Ever. You’ll be back, begging to be my forever plaything.” He walks to the door, pauses and says over his shoulder. “Oh and keep the belt, as a token of my… esteem. “ 

He walks out, stark naked, with nary a look back. 

He doesn’t see the cunning smile unfold on her face, nor hear the low chuckle in her throat. 

Mission accomplished. 

[lambsprout]

for Khae

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

◈ Pairing: Zhongli x fem!Reader ◈ Summary: You've just gotten out of an exhausting relationship with your boyfriend of ten years. Your boss, who you've only brushed shoulders with a few times in the six years you've worked at the company, suddenly makes you an offer that you can't turn down. ◈ Contains: NSFW, Angst, Boss/Employee Relationship, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Emotional Manipulation

Zhongli’s expression grew serious as he listened to your words. You had a resignation letter written up? He recalled you mentioning a transfer, but quitting wasn’t the same thing. You weren’t threatening him with it, just offering him a clear exit from your life if he ever wanted it. On the surface, you were refusing to entangle him, but what you were actually doing was ensuring your own escape. Whether or not you escape unscathed wasn’t important, only that you do. Your words cut into him, twisting and carving painfully into his chest. All this time he had been trying to comfort you only to realize he hadn’t even managed to convince you he wouldn’t hurt you.

You were drawn to him but reluctant to come too close, like a moth that had been burned one too many times. You didn’t have the strength to deny yourself what you craved, so you could only give yourself excuses to continue fluttering around him, even if he’ll burn you to a crisp one day.

“You have my word.” He said softly, looking directly into your eyes. “I won't let you dwell in uncertainty.”

You gave him a content smile and pressed your lips against his again, relinquishing all that was left of your doubts.

Zhongli wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. Warmth spread between your bodies as the two of you touched. His smoldering presence flowed against yours like molten earth, surrounding you. The pressure and heat caused your thoughts to dissolve gradually, losing all structure and sense. He carried you over to his bed. His lips ventured away from yours, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck.

You moaned softly as Zhongli’s hand moved up to cup your breast through the plush fabric of your sweater. He drew your skin between his lips, causing your breath to hitch and your neck to arch. Your body became soft, your skin glowed with a pink flush, and your breath escaped in shallow gasps. You gave into the heat, one that you were no stranger to.

Zhongli’s hand slid under your sweater, gently brushing against your waist before tracing along the hem of your skirt. He took his time, carefully and lightly running his hands over every inch of you like you were some sort of treasure that was rare and hard to come by. All your clothes, your sweater, your skirt, he hadn’t removed a single piece. A tiny smile tugged on your lips when it finally occurred to you why he hadn’t.

“Zhongli... go ahead.” You breathed, your voice coming out a bit too eager.

This silly gentleman was waiting for you to give him permission to. Your heart practically melted right then and there. In the past, you had never had to give permission for something as trivial as this. When was the last time someone touched you like they couldn’t bear to go too fast?

Zhongli pulled back slightly to look at you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I’ve never been surer.”

It felt nice to start from scratch with someone who took things slow and didn’t take the little things for granted.

[ghoul-slime]

Confectionery

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,087

Pairing: Aether/Dew/Swiss

Tags: threesome, ghouls in heat, armpit fetish, sweaty ghouls, fingering, implied dp, squirting, little bit of foot licking, poly ghouls

Summary:

When Dew goes into heat, it draws every ghoul in the abbey out. The sweet, heady scent of the small fire ghoul’s arousal calls to them, drives them tense and hungry, sniffing around the band ghoul quarters in hopes of getting their claws into his desperate, willing flesh.

When Dew goes into heat, he’s greedy. He wants whoever he can get, however he can get them, as many times as they’ll give it to him. But as much as all the other ghouls want a taste of him, and as happy as Dew is to give it to them, they almost never get there in time.

When Dew goes into heat, Aether and Swiss are always the first to claim him.

or read on tumblr here:

When Dew goes into heat, it draws every ghoul in the abbey out. The sweet, heady scent of the small fire ghoul’s arousal calls to them, drives them tense and hungry, sniffing around the band ghoul quarters in hopes of getting their claws into his desperate, willing flesh. 

When Dew goes into heat, he’s greedy. He wants whoever he can get, however he can get them, as many times as they’ll give it to him. But as much as all the other ghouls want a taste of him, and as happy as Dew is to give it to them, they almost never get there in time. 

When Dew goes into heat, Aether and Swiss are always the first to claim him.

Already high off the smell of him, the two ghouls stalk down the hall towards Dew’s room. In a moment’s time they’re mindlessly hungry, moving forward on instinct and with one purpose. Salivating and ravenous for it. Claws flexing and sharp, white fangs glistening with drool, they converge at Dew’s door to claim their prize.

Inside they find Dew laid out on the bed completely bare and waiting for whoever finds him first. He plays with himself while he waits, patience growing thinner by the minute, a sheen of sweat glistening across every inch of his heated skin. 

Dew’s scent hits them like a wall, thick and cloying, smelling of sweet cinnamon sugar with a hint of smoky ash. All under ridden by the unmistakable smell of sweat and slick. Of sex. 

Dew’s eyes are clouded and unfocused as he ruts his hips up into the air, spreads his thighs in invitation to the two hungry ghouls hastily tearing at their own clothing and stalking up to his bedside.They descend at the same time, sinking to the bed and flanking Dew, who arches his back off the sheets with a whine, writhing with need at the feel of the two bigger ghouls pressing themselves against him.

Swiss and Aether are all over him in an instant. Big, strong hands feeling their way across the warm expanse of Dew’s flushed skin. Soft flesh, pink and plush, warm with want. So sensitive and inviting.

Aether skims his hands up Dew’s torso, across his flat little chest, smoothing wide palms and calloused fingertips across his nipples, sensitive and rosy, stiff little peaks threaded through with shiny silver rings. He brings one hand up to Dew’s neck, curling his fingers around his throat, not pressing or squeezing but feeling. Feeling his steady, beating pulse thudding with anticipation. Feeling the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly. Aether presses his nose into Dew’s temple and inhales, groaning at the changing scent of him, Dew’s arousal kicking up into high gear, growing sweeter and more intoxicating by the second.

Swiss trails his hands down Dew’s belly, spreading thick fingers to grasp at bony little hips, pinning his writhing frame to the sheets, pressing bruises into fair skin, sharp nails leaving angry, red indents into supple flesh. Across from Aether, he inhales too, growling deep in his chest at the smell of Dew’s heat. He presses his face into Dew’s temple, nosing along his hairline as he breathes him in deep enough to taste the arousal on his tongue.

Dew tips his head back, giving the two larger ghouls more access to the expanse of his throat. Swiss licks a long, wet stripe up the side of Dew’s neck, pausing to suck a bruise into the skin, drawing a needy whine from his lips. Aether noses his way down the side of Dew’s face, breathing heavily until he’s sucking the lobe of Dew’s ear into his mouth, licking wet and messy around the shell of his ear, chasing the scent and taste of him.

Pressed between the two larger ghouls, Dew can feel his body heating up. The more Aether and Swiss grind against him, suck and lick at his flesh, paw at his body with greedy hands, the more Dew’s body responds to the attention. Scent kicking up high as he sweats, as beads of pre bubble up from the wet slit of his hard little cock, as slick starts to dribble from between his cheeks. The smell of him, desperate for cock, body begging to be fucked and filled, to be claimed, drives Swiss and Aether out of their minds.

Dew smells so fucking good it’s all they can do to chase down the source of that intoxicating scent. They roam his body with their mouths, panting and snuffing across Dew’s skin. Swiss presses his face to the crown of Dew’s head, burying his nose into fine, silky blond hair. Aether moves south, planting a trail of wet kisses and licks across his body as he crawls down between Dew’s legs, burying his nose into the thatch of soft blond hair above the base of his cock. 

Swiss follows not long after, licking and nipping at Dew’s chest, then his thigh, and down his calf until he stops where Aether has his legs held up and spread apart. He licks a wet stripe up the flat of Dew’s raised foot, reveling in the sound the little ghoul makes. At how he throws his head back and cries out at the sensation, toes curling and calf muscles flexing at the tickle of Swiss’ tongue pressed against the sole of his foot.

But Swiss and Aether are greedy too, and they want more. They push and pull Dew between them, pinning his arms above his head in a mirror image of each other. Aether dips his head, pressing his nose into Dew’s exposed armpit and inhales, eyes rolling back and groaning at how good, how sweet, how concentrated Dew’s arousal is from this angle.

Swiss follows suit, nosing into Dew’s other armpit, pressing his nose into heated skin lightly damp with sweat. It smells so good. Like Dew amped up to a thousand. It’s syrupy-sweet and rich, but there’s more to it. Swiss inhales, breathes it in through his nose and out through his mouth, tasting the depth of Dew’s scent. He finds warm cinnamon and smoky campfire, and beneath that, hints of toasted sugar and honey. It’s Dew, and the smell of it goes straight to his cock. He inhales again, but this time he’s driven by the need to taste. 

Swiss presses his face into Dew’s armpit, ravenous for it, dragging the flat of his tongue up the expanse of it, drawing a sharp cry from Dew. He licks again, tracing his tongue through the fine hair at the concave of Dew’s pit, tasting the sweet scent of Dew’s heat and a tantalizing hint of sweat. He presses nose into the skin and laps at him, reveling in the way Dew squirms, at how he humps his hips into the air as Swiss works him up with his tongue.

Aether licks at him in a mirror image of Swiss, one big hand wrapped around a delicate wrist, holding Dew’s arm above his head and against the pillows. The more he licks the sweeter he tastes, the higher pitched and more desperate his breathy little cries become. The more Dew wriggles and writhes, flexes the muscles of his stomach, spreads his thighs and curls his toes.

Dew could cum like this, with Swiss and Aether licking into him this way, holding him open and exposed, wet, greedy tongues probing and tasting him in a way more intimate than if they were licking him out between his quivering thighs. His cock kicks out a blurb of pre and he feels another wave of slick dribble out between his cheeks, pooling wet and cool beneath his ass on the sheets.

He whines for it, begging wordlessly for more. His heat is driving his need to be filled up and taken apart. He groans again, long and drawn out. It echoes off the walls of his bedroom, demanding and impatient. It momentarily gets the attention of Swiss and Aether, who pull away long enough to lock eyes with each other over the heaving expanse of Dew’s skinny little chest. 

Together they trail their hands down Dew’s belly. 

Swiss stops to curl a hand around Dew’s straining cock while Aether slips his middle finger between Dew’s cheeks, gathering slick and pushing inside with ease. Dew arches off the bed, and Swiss and Aether turn their attention back to the task at hand. Licking at every inch of exposed flesh they can get their mouths on. Nipping at Dew’s chest, laving at his pierced nipples, snuffing their noses into his armpits, sucking bruises into his neck.

Aether ruts his cock into Dew’s side as he fingers him. Dew is so wet between his legs that his slick flows past Aether’s finger, pooling in his palm and dribbling down to the bedsheets. Dew keens as Aether pushes back in deep and wiggles his finger, wet sounds filling the room as Aether pets the deepest parts of him from the inside.

Swiss relinquishes his grip on Dew’s cock to join Aether between his legs. Trailing the tip one finger around Dew’s rim, stretched around where Aether is buried inside him. Feeling the pool of slick and the way Dew’s puffy little hole winks and flutters around Aether’s finger. He bites down on one of Dew’s nipples as he breaches him with the tip of his finger, sliding in alongside Aether already working in and out of him. Dew howls with pleasure, arching his back and curling his toes, doing his best to grind his hips down onto the two fingers stretching him open. His cock kicks out another blurb of precum onto his stomach as Swiss pushes inside to the last knuckle, until he and Aether are sunk into him as far as they can go.

Swiss catches sight of Aether across from him, eyes squeezed shut, red faced and sweating, drooling into the crevice of Dew’s armpit as he grinds his hips against his writhing body. Swiss groans at the sight and pulls back out, feeling the wet slip of his finger alongside Aether’s before he’s pushing it back in, sliding in and out, back and forth, in tandem with Aether’s rapid pace.

Inside, Dew is wet, hot, and tight. Slick walls spasming and clenching against the intrusion of the two larger ghoul’s thick fingers inside him. Dew relishes in the feeling of being pressed between them, of being spread open and stretched, pulled and prodded at, at the feeling of sharp fangs and wet mouths across the expanse of his skin. The way they both hump and rut against him, the heat of them driving his own body temperature up even higher. The sensations are almost too much, but his lust-addled brain still screams out for more, desperate to be claimed by the two ghouls working his body.

Aether and Swiss push in at the same time and Dew cums with a shout, eyes rolling back and body spasming. His vision goes fuzzy around the edges as he cums hard, painting his belly with ropes of white and squirting out a stream of slick as his muscles clamp down around the fingers still inside him.

Dew heaves in lungfuls of air, vision clearing as he feels Swiss and Aether draw out of him, leaving his hole empty and dripping. He groans at the loss, sweaty and panting between the two larger ghouls still flanking him. His orgasm took the edge off, but he’s still hot and aching to be fucked, the smell and feel of the two larger ghouls driving his heat into full force. 

He wants more than just their fingers filling him up.

He whines for it until he feels his body being lifted off the soaked sheets, until he’s being pushed and pulled and lifted as Swiss and Aether rearrange themselves on the bed, facing each other and sandwiching Dew’s spent, sweaty body between them. Dew’s head lolls back against Swiss’ shoulder as they push themselves together, as Aether grasps his own cock together with Swiss’ in one big fist. Aether pants into his ear and Swiss mouths at his neck, tonguing at his pulsepoint and worrying the skin with his fangs while they rearrange his legs and spread his ass. Together he and Aether ease him down until he’s hovering just above them, feeling the wet, sticky heads of their cocks kissing his rim.

When they start to push up inside him, Dew throws his head back and wails.

[29625]

A story about The Cars vinyl in Slider’s record cabinet, Slider’s sexy body, and Maverick’s wild imagination.

Slider x Maverick, implied NSFW content. A short story of established Slimav for all of my fellow submissive Sli lovers!

Update: full version now on AO3!

Enjoy!

Maverick imagines how beautiful it would be to make Slider pose like he was on one of those vinyls in his cabinet, ever since he saw it beside the player. One hand in the air like shades, the other fallen loosely on the ground, legs crossed in a way that hit him with the sensation that feels too close and dangerous. The accentuated lines and colors create a promiscuous yet sweet imagery of a robust beauty.

Candy-O, he recollects.

One time, Slider was tired from work, too groggy to wake back up from the couch after falling face-flat into the plush surface. The other time he was taking a rest while the dish was cooking on the stove, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand that smells of a mixture of soap and spice, his skin slightly cold and soft from the water.

And he never failed to give him a kiss, maybe two, or three, on each occasion.

This time, though, it’s more than that. Slider is lying on the bed and panting, too spent from the pleasure he’s given him. Maverick puts down the half-full glass of water on the nightstand and climbs back next to him, pinning his wrist above his messy curls, so tight he feels the bones hidden beneath the muscles. He loves that he is strong. He loves that he won’t break. And yet, simultaneously, Maverick finds himself wanting to cherish him like he was some fine china, as much as he’s aware that Slider would scoff at the mere idea of it.

So he traces the veins of his inner wrist with his fingertip, not weakening the grip the slightest.

His other hand is holding onto the crumpled sheets instead of defying the firm hold of his lover; an established routine of power. Slider mewls. His throat bobs as their gazes lock, and Maverick bites down those lips as he catches a slight peek of his teeth.

Candy-O, he recollects.

And it was the sensation of his long leg curl around his hips that reminded him of the sweet taste of those words rolling off his tongue.

[bananasofthorns]

Rating: Teen & Up Relationship(s): Fox & The Coruscant Guard, Fox & Feemor, Fox & Bly & Cody & Wolffe, Fox & Quinlan Vos Characters: Fox, Feemor, Background & Cameo Characters, Stone, Bly, Cody, Wolffe, Original Characters, Quinlan Vos Additional tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, except, Dead Sheev Palpatine, Force-Sensitive CC-1010 | Fox, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, CC-1010 | Fox Dissociates, Healing Word & Chapter Count: 14,822 words, 5/9 chapters

“Why did you kill the Chancellor?”

He deserved it. He had to.

“Why did you have to?”

The Chancellor looked like a kind old man until he didn’t and Fox was spitting blood onto the plush red carpeting in his office. The Chancellor did not care about the Guard. The Chancellor didn’t care if they died or starved or were killed; worse than that, the Chancellor wanted them to suffer. He never said it, but Fox saw it in his eyes. He hated them.

Fox hated him.

He’ll say it this time: the Chancellor deserved to die.

“...Okay. This is all very important information, Commander Fox. Thank you.”

Commander Fox assassinates Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. The war ends. After that, all that's left to do is recover.