#it's not bad if I press my hand *just so* on my brow bone

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”  

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.” 

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

 He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?” 

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.” 

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.” 

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea. 

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.” 

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow. 

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?” 

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.” 

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over. 

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained. 

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.” 

“Mm, thanks.” 

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Mhm. I’m ready.” 

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” 

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh. 

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.” 

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you. 

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers. 

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.” 

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.” 

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?” 

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.” 

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[thefirstforgottenpages]

Speak up

Warnings: mommy kink, edging to overstimulation, manhandling, hair pulling, choking, praise, strap (reader receiving)… I think that’s abt it

thank you to @babybatlover for the idea!!!!

Your moans are shaky and unrestrained as you beg Rhea yet again to just let you cum. “Baby-Rhea- pleaseee!” But, your hungry little whines appeal to Rhea’s sadistic side and she just chuckles lowly, swatting your hand away and continue to kiss and lick and your exposed chest. Rhea was too good with her fingers you mused hazily as she once again hit your g-spot your back bowing off the bed in response. “You can take it sweetheart.” She smirks down at you, the simple action has you biting your lip in need. “My good girl, yeah?” The rumble of her aussie accent has your legs opening just a tiny bit more, allowing her more access to your dripping core. “So fucking easy.” Rhea chides nipping at your collar bone as a giggle slips past your parted lips. Putting on your best pout you look down at her, simpering at the sight of her pleasuring you. “I need you so bad.” You whisper delicately, batting your eyelashes in a ploy to rile her up. 

Rhea was sure you’d be the death of her. 

Especially when the accompanying noise that she drug out of you was so desperate she decided to give you what you wanted. You let out a shriek as she hoisted you closer to her. The effortless display of strength turning you on more than you’d ever admit to her. “Is that a yes- Oh…” you sighed happily as Rhea slipped her strap inside of your gushing cunt. Rhea grinned at your stupefied expression, gripping the sides of your supple hips to pull you easily back down onto her cock.

“This what you needed hmm?” Rhea purrs, moaning as your fingernails dragged down her back. No doubt leaving marks that she’d gladly parade around. “Ye-yeah- oh my goodddd!” Your satisfied mewl only eggs Rhea on as she increases the speed of her hips. “You’re so fucking hot.” Rhea bites out, each word punctuated by a passionate thrust that had you reeling. Your whole body trembles at the confident dominance that Rhea had over you. On their own accord, your legs wrapped around her waist in an attempt to have her even closer to you. “Such a pretty girl,” Rhea continues, her voice still seductively low. A sweet surprised gasp leaves you as her lips ghost along your neck. “My pretty girl.” She clarifies, as her free hand snakes down to play with your clit. 

You swear you see stars at this, your mouth hanging open in filthy pleasure. You’re vaguely aware of the pleased raspy hum Rhea lets out at your state, too wrapped up in her skilled hands that are playing your body so easily. It was like you were made for her. And in her eyes, you were. So as you rocked your hips against her, she paid little mind to the smaller sobs you let out until you said it. “Mommy-hahh-please fuck me…” You froze, your keen trailing off in self consciousness until you looked up at Rhea’s face. Her pupils were fully blown as she looked down at you with a renewed lust. 

“What did you call me?” Rhea murmurs huskily. A darkened look of possessive need covering her sharp features. Her hand trails up to your throat and squeezes addictively. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your hand resting on top of hers as you flounder for your answer. Rhea quirks her brow at your silence, slowing her hips to a lazy grind. You let out a breathy cry at the loss of stimulation, biting your lip once more as Rhea cups your mandible, tipping your chin up to look at her. 

“Speak up gorgeous,” she says sickeningly sweet as she presses several insistent kisses on any skin she can reach. “And mommy just might fuck you so good that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” Your mouth drops open at her filthy words. The moan that leaves you is absolutely pornographic, and it takes all the restraint that Rhea has to not fuck you into you writhed completely dumb beneath her. 

“I..fuck Rhea…” you trail off embarrassed, your face is bright red and your pathetic whimpers has her grinning down onto you. “Say it.” She says quietly licking a stripe of your neck with a sultriness that has you choking out a low plea. “Mommy,” you moan out brokenly at she starts to thrust into you again. “Oh-holy fuckkkk.” You wail as Rhea presses closer to you, caging her strong arms around you. “There we fucking go,” Rhea grins against your neck, her hand on the inside of your thigh keeping your legs spread wide for her. “So wet for me too.” Rhea hums. You nod vigorously wrapping your arms around her neck as you grin unabashed. “All for you mommy.” You hiccup. Your back arches as she pulls your hips back into hers. “God that’s fucking sexy.” Rhea groans eagerly, the precise push of her hips leaving you breathless.

“Please-please ‘m gonna cum” your shy whimpers have Rhea whining needily into your chest. The tightened coil of arousal that is swirling in your belly is so close to snapping, and with the dirty talked that’s being cooed to you pushes you closer to the edge. “Then come on mommy’s cock baby,” Rhea drawls, dragging her lips across yours. “Make a mess for me to clean up.” You cry out achingly as you cum, chanting Rhea’s name over and over. 

You barely come down from your high as Rhea flips you over dragging your cunt towards her face. Your lip trembles as she begins to lick at your clit. “Rhea?” You gasp out surprised trying to move your hips away from her mouth. She smirks up at you, and you moan at her debauched state, her lips already glistening. “Oh no sweetheart,” Rhea purrs once more, licking around your clit and into your fluttering hole. You yelp at the overstimulation, your hands threading into her long hair. 

“Mommy’s not done with you yet.”

[xoxoemynn]

sometimes wonder if pirates wore eyepatches because they suffered from really bad headaches and having that pressure over one eye just felt really fucking good.

[neo-novaa]

pretty boy

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ethan landry x reader

*ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking/drunk characters, slightly very suggestive ending, no spoilers :)

*ੈ✩ 𝐚/𝐧: he is so babygirl

you’re on his lap, hands lost in his hair, his twitching around your waist.  your teeth clash as you’re desperately pulling at each other to get as much contact as possible. his lips still taste like cheap vodka, and you’re sure yours tastes the same; through all his noise, you can still hear the party raging on only a few floors down. 

you pull away to catch your breath, and your fingers are gently tracing the edges of ethans face. he’s nearly panting, his breathing always gets so husky when he’s making out with you.

ethan moved to bring your lips to his, but you’re gently pushing on his shoulders. 

“no, no—stop,” you whisper, cradling his face in your hands. “lemme just…look at you.”

you’re drunk. you’re really drunk. and as much as you want to kiss him, an even greater part of you just wants to look at him. 

you trace his features; the soft wrinkles on his forehead, his prominent brow bone, the slight bags beneath his eyes and the almost invisible freckles just below them. you obsess over them. 

“what are you doing?” ethan slurs, trying to escape your grasp. 

“you’re pretty…” you’re mumbling to yourself. even through ethan’s silent protests you’re worship every detail of his face. 

“you’re drunk.” he retaliates while you gently thumb his cheekbones. 

“yeah, but i’m also right.” you scoff, grabbing ethans chin and yanking him towards you, rewarding him with a soft kiss on his cheek. 

but you quickly return to mapping his skin, murmuring soft praise that even you weren’t aware of. 

but ethan was. he was very, very aware of it. 

“s’pretty,” your words slur together, coming out as soon as you’re able to think them. 

“did you know that? y’so pretty ethan…” you’re gently running your thumbs along his lips, and ethan’s eyes are locked on yours. 

“pretty boy…my pretty boy…” your fingers reach his neck and you trace the edges of ethans adams apple. you admire the way it hitches when you compliment him. 

“you’re not too bad yourself,” he replies, nervously, and after nearly a minute of silence on your part. if you were only half as drunk as you were now, you might’ve been able to catch that gap, and pieced together that ethan almost definitely had to hype himself up to say something like that. 

“oh yeah?” you straighten your back and your hands finally stop: one palm pressing into his chest, the other resting at the crook of his neck. you finally meet ethan’s gaze through glassy and half-lidded eyes.

you can feel his heart pounding beneath your fingertips. 

you pull his lips to yours and ethan melts in the kiss. it’s nothing like the tooth and tongue from mere moments ago. it’s soft, languid, as if you have all the time in the world. 

but unfortunately, and rather obviously, you don’t. 

ethan had just finally worked up the courage to slide a hand under the hem of your shirt when the door swings open. 

ah. it’s chad. and he’s so clearly, visibly, ostensibly drunk. 

“yo someone just brought, like, three fucking keggers. i don’t give a shit about what you guys are doing you have got to get down here!”

at least he has the common courtesy to close the door behind him.  

you look back to ethan, his warm hands firm on your waist, those dilated puppy dog eyes looking up at you. 

“you’re not going anywhere.” he murmurs firmly, pressing his lips to your skin. “especially not after calling me all those names.”

and yeah, maybe you’ll miss out on the best kegger this university will ever have, but at least you could say you were fucking your boyfriend instead. 

[daenysx]

trying to go back to writing!!! hope you enjoy ♡

james potter x fem!reader, modern au. smut -the sight of james wearing grey sweatpants drives you crazy

"james-" you whine, it's a pretty sound and james likes it very much. his lips curve upwards, eyes shining with the spark of longing. you arch your back, so helpless and needy, it makes you blush hard on your cheeks. "please."

james kisses your forehead before leaning in to take your nipple into his mouth. you push your chest towards him, his fingers find the other one to pinch it lightly. he sucks the bud slowly, his eyes closed and brows furrowed. you know he likes feeling you in his mouth but it's been long since you got him in your bed like this. you want him so much, it pains you.

"baby." you say, hand lost in james's curls. "i need you." he has a weakness, the entire world stops when you call him baby. he lifts his head, helps you lie down properly on the bed. he takes off your panties quickly, you never protest. your legs melt around his waist as he gets closer to kiss your lips.

"i'm sorry." he says, he means it. "you've been so patient, sweetheart. i'll give you anything you need, i promise."

you give him the best smile you can manage. he smiles back, kisses you on your chin. his hands angle your thighs to spread your cunt open. it feels weird and maddening for a moment, you lick your lips. james kisses your neck before he drags his fingers to your wetness.

"my little baby." he whispers. "my good girl, look at that."

he pushes a gentle finger inside you, your cunt clenches tightly. his thumb starts rubbing slow circles on your clit. "make a mess for me. we both deserve it."

it's been a long week of exams for you and james had training almost every day. you missed him terribly and having him between your legs now feels more intense than it ever has been. he's so good at what he's doing, it drives you insane. james adds one more finger, moving in and out with a certain angle. you throw your head back when he finds your sweet spot, the softness that never fails to make your world shatter.

"please, please." you start stuttering. "need it so bad, jamie. please."

james coos, his hardness pressing against his boxers painfully. he strokes his cock with his free hand, he groans silently. you watch him through hazy eyes, you can feel how wet you are around his fingers. he looks like a statue, all muscles and a perfect bone structure. his one hand tries to relieve himself as the other one plays with you. the sight of him almost makes you faint, it's insane.

"don't pout, pretty girl. i'm just trying to get you ready."

"i've been ready since i saw you in those grey sweatpants." you whimper.

"fuck." he says, hand stroking his cock harder. "want me inside, huh?"

"i need it." you push yourself to his fingers desperately. "do you want me to beg?"

james kisses you sweetly as if he isn't the one who teases you until you break. "never. i'd never make you beg."

he keeps the promise, frees himself of his boxers quickly. he grabs your thighs a bit roughly, you love the way he holds your flesh in strong hands. he hits your clit with the tip of his cock first, you can't help but clenching around nothing. james smiles lazily, he hits again.

"look at you." he says. "look here, sweetheart. i want you to watch."

you lift your head a bit and james finally motions himself to your hole. it's a tight fit, he goes slow at first. you are thankful for his stamina, you like it the best when he's taking his time.

"look, baby." he whispers. "only one week and you are so tight around me."

you nod, wrapping your legs around him. he is helpless, pushes himself into you. it's so wet, the mess on the sheets grow incredibly. you don't care, you want him deeper. finally you can reach his shoulders, his neck is so close to your lips.

"can i move?" he asks. "are you okay?"

"please move." you say, kissing his neck. "please, baby."

he wraps an arms around your shoulders to reach your hair. his hand goes to your scalp to massage lightly, he moves deeper at the same time. you moan when he pulls your hair just a bit, it doesn't hurt but it's too arousing, you don't know what to do. he gives you a sympathetic smile, pulls again.

and then it falls into a certain rhytm, james keeps moving with his hand on your neck. he pushes himself in a way that makes your thighs shake. you keep saying his name to his ear, mumbling words to encourage him as he fucks deep into you.

you can't even form a word when it comes close to the ending. you hear a loud moaning, not sure if it's you or james. all you can do is holding onto him as you come, feeling a liquid dripping down onto the sheets. you hold james's shoulders blindly, the clouds in your mind part as the tightness slowly disappears.

james pulls out as he comes. thick, white droplets cover your stomach. he thinks it's cute; the way you keep clenching even when you finish, the way your hands are desperate for support. he lets out a tiny groan as he strokes his cock for final drops, he's spent.

it confuses you most of the time, how you feel the need to do it one more time even though you are dead tired. james stays on top of you like a giant human blanket. he runs hot, sweat covers his skin. you stroke his back, muscles sliding under your fingers.

"are you okay?" he asks against your ear. "need to hear you, baby."

you nod tiredly. "i'm okay." you whisper. "you?"

he kisses the side of your head. "i'm fine."

he tries to move but you hold him back with weak hands. "jamie."

"just gotta clean us up, lovely." he says. "two minutes."

"i'm counting." you say with a hushed voice.

he keeps the promise. you help him as much as you can but your legs let you down when you try to pull your clean panties up. james completes the task with heart-eyes.

the sheets are ruined, he throws them into the washing machine. he finds clean, white sheets and spreads it on the bed with the slow help of your shaky fingers.

"come on." you say, laying back on bed. "come here."

james smiles at your whining tone. such a perfect girl, looking at him with shiny eyes. you extend a hand, he accepts greedily.

he pulls you on his bare chest with a hand on your waist. "so," he starts. "what about my grey sweatpants?"

you don't even bother to hide. "they look amazing on you."

"yeah?" his tone is teasing but you gladly fall into the trap of giving him compliments.

"i like the way they wrap around your legs." you continue. "just- looks perfect."

he kisses your forehead when you close your eyes. so sleepy and so pretty. he wants to keep you like this. he wants to take the load off your shoulders and carry it without complaining. he wants to shower you with his affection, wants to kiss you until you fall asleep before him.

"i love you." he says. you are already sleeping.

[somnambulic-thing]

This fic is part I of my come as you are universe but can be read as a standalone.

Series Masterlist

greedy Eddie Munson x gn!best friend reader, early 20s, E 18+

Words: 1.8k

| best friends to lovers, fluff, finger sucking, light biting, Eddie comes in his pants, get together, silly and a little cheesy, not proofread |

---

“You need something?”

“Huh?” you look up from your book and right into Eddie’s eyes staring at you over the edge of his mattress the way a nosey neighbour might lurk over a garden fence. You’d been so lost in your thoughts about Eddie that you hadn’t noticed him abandoning his own book to creep up close to you. You, spread out your stomach on his sheets. Eddie, perched on his carpet in increasingly uncomfortable-looking positions as the evening progresses, but never more than an arm’s length away. You always could just reach out and give his hair a thorough ruffling whenever you felt like it.

That’s just how it was, just one of the many shapes your togetherness takes. Rituals established and refined over years. You share the bed during movie nights, or when one of you is reading out loud to the other and you settle down on the armchair without even thinking about it the second Eddie picks up one of his guitars to play for you, leaving the bed to him.

“Ah, finally I caught your attention,” he says, muffled by the mattress, his fingers slowly creeping over the edge. It’s adorable. 

“What did you say?” you mumble and snap your book close as if the pages could somehow give away that you had been only pretending to read the whole time. He would see smouldering holes with charred edges where your intense stare had lingered and ask you why your brain was producing such intense heat that you ruined the copy of Howl’s Moving Castle he got you for your unbirthday only a week ago.

His brows draw slightly together. His fingers curl to grab the sheets and then he’s dramatically and labourously pulling himself up like he’s climbing a cliff in a storm, huffing and groaning.

“You need any help?” you chuckle; an insufficient expression for the unbridled affection you harbour for this silly man.

“No… no… almost— ahhh.” Chest now flat on the mattress, back bend in one of those ways that made you certain there wasn’t one solid bone in Eddie Munson’s body. He crosses his arms on the mattress and rests his chin on top of his wrist, so close now you could just dip down to press your lips to his forehead.

He smiles up at you. “Book s’ good then?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?” he mocks you. “You haven’t reacted to a thing I said in the past twenty minutes so I assumed the story must be really captivating.”

“Oh!”

“Oh!”

“Stop that!” you huff in faux exasperation, tapping that very kissable-looking spot of forehead lurking through his messy bangs with your index finger.

With an eerie speed, Eddie grabs your finger in his fist. You watch in slow motion as he opens his mouth wide and guides your hand closer and closer, large dark eyes fixed on you, daring and full of mischief.

The routine would be to struggle. To say: no, Eddie, bad Eddie! Maybe shove him a little, maybe curse his ass, have a little wrestle, have him breathing hot against your neck as he tries to pin you down; it’s tempting. So tempting. But you don’t.

You just watch, mesmerized, how your finger slowly disappears inside his mouth, almost two digits deep, watch his lips pull back from his teeth, his jaws close.

He’s gentle, not biting to hurt, just playfully chomping down a few times.

Does his heart pound as fast as yours? Does he know what he’s doing to you?

You want to push in deeper, long for his lips to close around you, to suck you in. 

He is hiding his tongue from you and that won’t do.

“Careful,” you say with a grin, “could be poisonous.”

And, oh, how willingly he takes the bate.

The soft, wet tip finds the pad of your finger, slides back and forth over and over while the corners of his mouth twitch wickedly. The routine would be to say: gross, Eddie, eeew Eddie and to free yourself from his hold and coat his cheek in a thick stripe of saliva in revenge, feel him shiver when you blow cool air against his wet skin. But you don’t.

Because this is perfect.

And maybe this was how your problem solved itself. It has been weeks of wracking your brain on how to figure out if Eddie too craved to deepen your friendship the way you did without ruining everything in case he didn’t, but maybe the solution was simply to stick your finger into his mouth and give him free rein over it.

“Gnophe!” he mumbles and shakes his head. His teeth clamp down just a little bit harder.

“No?” you ask softly, “You feel good?”

Eddie nods and as if wasn’t obscene already, the way he looks up at you through his lashes, big eyes playful and excited, the eagerness of the gesture only amplifies the spectacle in front of you.

“No weird tingling? No? Or hot flashes?” He sets to shake his head but doesn't follow through. Instead, his eyes widen for a split second; if you had blinked at that moment, you’d have missed it. You can feel the sheet under you being pulled taut, you follow the movement to Eddie’s hand still resting on the bed, twisting the fabric in a clenched fist. 

“Because,” you work hard to keep your breath steady, “your cheeks are so very red, Eddie.”

He swallows loudly. The action forces his lips to close around your knuckle, cool and wet, and your mind goes blank.

“Fuck,” you moan softly.

His fingers around your hand twitch, his eyes flutter and then shut. You press your thighs together and your hips into the mattress, mourning the absence of his gaze and before you know what you’re doing, the knuckle of your middle finger nudges his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. Eddie groans; a long stretched noise fading out into a high-pitched sound you’d almost call whiny. The pressure of his teeth disappears and his tongue darts out, nudging guiding sweeping your middle finger into his mouth as well. Eddie hums, running the tip of his tongue along the groove between them.

“Look at me.”

Beneath you, on the floor, on his knees, with your fingers in his mouth, Eddie opens his eyes and with that, tells you everything you need to know and more than you hoped for.

You push in deeper, just slightly past the second joint and Eddie sucks in his cheeks, trapping you in the wet heat of his mouth.

“You like that?”

The nod is slow, almost heavy. Saliva collects at the corners of his mouth.

Lifting your hips, you pull your knees under your stomach and start to sit up. Eddie sucks you in harder, brows drooping as if in worry you could end this now.

“Shit, you’re adorable when you’re greedy,” you say and come to sit on the edge of the bed. Eddie moves with you, eyes fixed on your face. He swallows again hard when you settle with your knees apart and pressed into his sides. Large hands settle on your thighs, squeezing softly, then running up up up until they find your hips to hold on to.

Your heart races with the new shape your togetherness is forming, with the trust and longing in Eddie’s eyes. Your free hand cups his cheek and he leans into the touch, sighing softly. It’s perfect.

Then the suction is gone, you draw back just slightly and his tongue prods the edge of your palm.

“You want more?”

A moan.

“You sure?”

A moan and a nod and your insides catch fire. You slide a third finger into his mouth and revel in the smooth slide of his tongue between them, the way he’s drooling for and around you. He bites down a few times, mostly soft but testing you with harder chomps in between. Your other hand winds into his hair at the back of his head, testing him with soft scratches, soft pulls and a few firm tugs in between. He likes those, moans and slides his fingertips under the hem of your shirt, digging into your skin, holding on tight; he’s vibrating.

“Look at you,” you breathe and lean in close, pressing a kiss to his hollowed cheek, to his jaw, close to his ear. “You look so much better like this than I could have ever imagined.”

Teeth clamp down, the sting is delicious. Eddie moans, hips twitching between your knees.

“What pretty things you can do with this big beautiful mouth.”

Eddie draws his head back, releasing your fingers all at once and slumps against you. You embrace him, welcome him where he belongs now. His face is pressed to your neck, hands finding your back under your shirt, nails digging in.

“Keep talking, please,” he groans against your skin and licks a dripping stripe along your throat. “Taste so good… please…”

“Fuck,” you drawl out, overwhelmed and buzzing, desperately rolling your hips against his stomach. “Wanna know what else y-you can do with that mouth, can think of something sweet for that clever tongue to taste—“

“H’lly shiii—“ he nearly pushes you over, jerking and twitching in your arms. You feel teeth grazing your neck, then he’s sucking on your skin and it stings he’s sucking so hard. It lasts a little longer until he stills and goes slack in your arms, breathing heavily. You’re dizzy and hot and you want to have him twitch and writhe for you again. You want to see his face when he does.

“Just…” he pants into your shoulder, pulls your collar aside and kisses it. “Just wanted to know if you needed something from the kitchen…”

You laugh and scratch his neck, desperate to feel him shiver again. He does.

“Did… you just—“

“Fucking come into my pants? Yepp… Was that unclear?”

“Just wanted to hear you say it.”

“Minx.” Eddie draws back, cups your face with both hands and kisses you. His lips are wet and swollen from sucking on your fingers and the moan escaping you vibrates hard against his mouth. Eddie’s tongue pushes past your lips to lick into you. He’s sloppy and excited, nibbling on your lips, licking your teeth, smiling and moaning and he’s just perfect.

“That a good time to tell you that I’m in love with you?” he pants, forehead pressed to yours.

“Oh yeah,” you laugh softly.

“Yeah? Cool,” his warm hands run up your sides. “Because I’m ridiculously in love with you, sweetheart.”

“Got a pretty bad case for you as well—“

“Nuh-uh…,” he pulls back to look at you, smirking. “Say it.”

“I’m in love with you, Eddie Munson.”

He wiggles his head and laughs, mouth wide open and baring teeth. The hands on your back slide down and straight to the waistband of your pants. You almost slip off the bed when he hooks his fingers in and pulls.

“Jesus, you’re eager.”

“Greedy,” he says nervously, blushing, but with so much determination. “And you promised me something sweet.”

[d10nyx]

BARK OR BITE - TOJI FUSHIGURO

ft. toji fushiguro x fem!reader

a/n: anonymous commission :3 this is just smut oops. brat tamer toji has my whole heart and i got a lil carried away x

cw: 18+ content, daddy-daughter incest, pet play, degradation, excessive use of mutt, gagging, collaring, oral sex(m!recieving), face humping, mild scent kink, face slapping, light breath play, he's mean, creampie, orgasm denial, p in v, breeding kink

word count: 2.5k words

You've been really pissing Toji off recently. Granted, it's not the hardest thing to do, but it doesn't mean he's getting any less frustrated with your antics. You got too used to his dick, and even spanking your cute ass raw only seems to leave you dripping all over his thigh by the end of it. Sluts like you need creative punishments, but he doesn't have the strength to ignore you, not when one look from you has his cock twitching against his briefs.

You already start yapping his ear off as soon as he brings up the topic. Saying shit like "I'm an adult now, and I can do whatever the fuck I want". Unlikely, when you're still living under Toji's roof. Good thing he already has a back-up plan, specially tailored for girls like you. He shifts forward, his eyes narrowed as he looks down at you.

“One more fuckin’ word, sweetheart. I dare ya. Always wanna act like a bitch with Daddy, huh? You're gonna get fuckin’ treated like one.” He hisses, grabbing you by your hair to tug your head back harshly. “Pretty mouth like yours should only be used for one thing, but mutts like you love to bite. Daddy's gonna have to make sure ya can't.”

He snaps the collar in place first, and that's already enough to get you begging. All the 'no, daddy's and 'please, I'm sorry's in the world couldn't stop him now, not with how rapidly his cock is filling out. It's hot, almost gets him as worked up as when he squeezes that little throat with his hand. The bone gag comes next, and he even got you a pretty one, the pink leather straps matching the collar. He sees your jaw clench, and then you're tugging your face away disobediently. You're even a fucking brat being face with your punishment.

"Open." Is all he says as his free hand cups your jaw, his fingers and thumb pressing down almost painfully on your cheeks, forcing your teeth apart enough that he can manhandle the rubber of the gag between your lips before fastening the strap at the back of your head. If he thought the collar was hot, the sight of you gagged and scared has his dick leaking so much he feels like he came in his pants.

Toji can hardly ignore his pants straining as he looks at you with that bone gag in your mouth, spit sticking the rubber already as your lips stretch around it. It takes all his willpower to pull away from you to sit on the couch, his legs spread. He would love to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck the brattiness out of you, but he's starting to think his little girl loves Daddy's cock too much.

“C'mere.” He bites out, his sharp tone ringing in the room. It makes you jump a little, and that's enough to bring a smirk to his face. You can barely meet his eyes as you shift towards him, your hands hooked in front of you. You already looked embarrassed, head hung in shame. Good. You should be.

He snorts out a laugh as you go to sit next to him on the couch. He hooks a singular finger into the space between your collar and your neck, yanking you down onto the floor at his feet. “Bad girl. No mutts on the furniture.”

You look so dejected at his words, a soft whine building in your throat that has his brows frowning. He's trying to make you feel like shit, but he should have anticipated the puppy dog eyes making his heart ache. With a sigh of frustration, he pulls his cock out of his pants, tugging them down to his mid-thighs. He can see the change in you instantly - your eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas, and your body perking up.

“When did I raise such a cock-hungry slut?” He hisses, fisting his hand in your hair and pulling your face towards his crotch. He can see your confusion as you realise you're still wearing the gag, another low whine building in your throat. But this isn't about what you want - it's a punishment. And he'll be damned if he goes soft on you just because you're his little girl.

He tilts your head to the side, letting his thick shaft rest against your cheek. His thumbs move to the top of his length, pressing down so it's resting more firmly against your face as his fingers wrap around what they can of your head to hold you steady. With a low grunt, he starts to thrust his hips forward, humping your cheek.

Toji grunted as he began to rut his thick cock against your flushed cheek, smearing pre-cum over your skin. He leans down to spit a thick glob of spit onto your face before rubbing his length against it, letting out a low groan at the slick sensation. His calloused fingers tightened in your hair, keeping your face firmly pressed against his shaft as it slid lewdly across your features. The sloppy sounds of his movements filled the room, mingling with your pitiful whines around the gag stretching your lips obscenely.

"Yeah, that's it pup. Get a good whiff of Daddy's cock.” He rasped, voice thick with arousal. "Fuckin' mutt always beggin' for it. Should be grateful I'm even givin' ya this much attention after the shit you've pulled."

He punctuated his words with a harsh slap of his cockhead against your cheek, leaving a sticky streak of pre-cum across your skin. Toji drank in the sight of you - flushed and drooling around the gag, hair dishevelled from his brutal grip, eyes glassy with need. A deep rumble of approval rolled through his chest as he drank in your desperate form.

"Such a needy lil' bitch. Can't even go a day without wantin' Daddy to breed that tight pussy, can ya?" His hips snap forward, the thick shaft of his cock sliding across your spread lips. "Keep beggin' mutt, maybe if ya convince me enough I'll let ya taste it later.”

That seems to get you going, muffled please spilling from your gagged mouth as he coats your lips in pre-cum, using you as nothing more than a toy to hump for him to get off. His eyes are dark as he watches you, his breath growing a little shallow as he stares down at your desperate, ruined face.

"Fuckin' hell..." He growled under his breath, voice low and gravelly. "Ya really are just a cock-starved lil' mutt, ain't ya pup?"

With a harsh yank, he pulled your face flush against his crotch, hearing your sharp inhale as his thick, heady musk assaults your senses. Toji groaned shamelessly at the sight of you, his hips giving an involuntary buck forward.

"Look at ya, beggin' for Daddy's cock like the needy bitch ya are." He sneers, though his taunts only seemed to spur your desperation further, your whines rising in pitch.

Toji's free hand trailed down the line of throat, thumb digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. He drank in every little reaction, committing each of them to memory. With a rumbling chuckle, he finally pulled back enough to let his aching length hang free, twitching helplessly against your face.

"You're lucky Daddy's feelin' generous enough today to give ya a taste." He murmurs, reaching out to unbuckle the gag and let it fall, the wave of drool that was collecting on your tongue spilling past your lips. He rubs the length of his cock along the mess before slotting into your mouth with a moan.

Toji let out a deep, rumbling groan as he finally slotted the thick length of his dick between your drool-slicked lips. Your cheeks hollowed instinctively, tongue lapping at the underside of his shaft in a desperate attempt to please him. You really were a natural cocksucker. He was sure you were never happier than when you had a dick buried in your throat - except for when your tight cunt was stuffed.

"That's it pup, get a good taste..." He rasped, hips canting forward to feed you more of his thick cock. "Been too fuckin' lenient with ya lately."

His free hand slid up to grip the back of your skull, holding you in place as he began to rock his hips in a lazy rhythm. Each thrust buried his cock deeper down your convulsing throat, making you gag and splutter.

"Look at ya... chokin' on Daddy's fat dick already. Can't even take it properly without gaggin' like a bitch." He grunts, emerald eyes glinting with sadistic hunger as he watches you struggle.

With a harsh grunt, Toji pulls you forward until your nose meets the hair at the base of his cock, letting his length rest heavy on your tongue for several beats. He relished the way your throat constricted around him, desperate little moans vibrating along his shaft in a way that made his balls tighten.

"That's it pup... gonna use this fuckin' sleeve 'til I'm nice and ready to breed ya like the needy lil' mutt ya are.”

You desperately try to suck in a breath as he breaches your throat, swallowing around his length to try and adjust to the intrusion. Your hands reach up to attempt to claw at his thighs, tears stinging your eyes.

Toji's grip on your hair tightened as you gagged around his thick cock, your delicate fingers scrabbling uselessly against his muscular thighs. A low, rumbling chuckle reverberated in his chest at the sight, his lips curling into a cruel smirk.

"That's it, pup. Choke on Daddy's dick like the fuckin’ whore ya are." His hips rolled forward in a slow, punishing rhythm, relentlessly burying his shaft to the hilt in your convulsing throat.

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, your vision swimming as you fought against the urge to black out from lack of air. But Toji didn't relent, holding you in place with an iron grip until your struggles weakened, your body growing pliant under his unyielding assault.

"Fuckin' knew ya couldn't handle it." He growls, voice thick with arousal as he pulled you off his cock with a wet pop, leaving you coughing and gasping for air, strings of saliva connecting your mouth to his leaky tip.

With an almost predatory grin, Toji drags you up by the collar, his eyes glinting with wicked intent as he manhandles you onto the couch beside him, reaching down to yank your shorts off your body. Your legs spread on instinct, drawing a soft chuckle from Toji as he gazes down at your glistening folds.

“You want Daddy to make ya feel good, sweetheart?” He coos, his voice sickly sweet as he slides a thumb between your folds from your clit to your entrance, dipping it in for a moment before pulling his hand back.

“Such a silly pup - dumb little girl thinks her old man is gonna be all sweet to her after she's been a brat all week. Poor thing. Your puppy brain can't think right, hmm? Just wants to make sure you're stuffed full at times.”

“You’re nothin’ more than a breedin’ bitch, made to take daddy’s cock.” He grunts as he grips your hips, flipping you over and pressing down on your upper back so your face is pressed against the cushions, ass up in the air for him. His jaw clenches as he presses his tip into your cunt, thrusting shallowly.

“Dad, daddy. Please-” You're cut off by two of his thick fingers forcing themselves past your lips, the pads pressing down on your tongue and making you gag.

“Dirty fuckin’ mutts like you don't speak. I made this pussy, and I'll decide when she gets filled.”

You whine as he slips out of you completely, shifting to rub his cock between your slick folds instead, groaning as you coat him in your arousal.

“Gonna breed that tight little puppy cunt.” He grits out, pulling your face up by the jaw, giving your cheek a couple of light taps until the skin starts to warm before drawing his hand back and giving you one harsh smack, grinning at the yelp you let out. “Cute.”

He sinks to the hilt in your cunt, slipping his fingers out of your mouth to grab the back of your head, shoving it into the couch cushions. His pace is relentless, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the room as he rocks into you desperately.

“Dad-” You croak out, voice muffled as you try and pull away from his thrusts, your hands pressing against the sofa in an attempt to lift yourself up slightly. “Daddy. S'too much…”

“Too much?” He repeats, scoffing slightly as he presses you further into the couch, his free hand shifting to your hip to hold you steady with a bruising grip. “You're gonna take every inch, and you're gonna be grateful for ‘em.”

“You're mine to use however I like, pup. I don't take complaints, not from filthy little mutts like you. You're gonna want to shut that mouth of yours, pup, or I'll give ya somethin’ better to do with it.” He grits out, grinding his cock deep into you, the tip bruising your cervix.

He can feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering as your climax builds, making him clench his jaw. He hesitates before pulling out, fisting his length as his own release builds. “You were a bad girl, y'think Daddy's gonna let you cum?” He scoffs, ignoring your pleading and whimpering.

He keeps stroking himself as your tremors fade, tears streaming down your cheeks as the heat in your stomach dissipates, leaving you needy and twitching in front of him. He hisses as he feels his balls tighten, dropping his head as he fucks his fist faster.

“Still gonna breed that needy cunt. All you're good for, huh? Daddy's little breeder, made to take his fuckin’ loads.” He groans, slipping inside of you once more, thrusting twice before stilling inside for you, thick ropes of cum filling you up.

He huffs out a deep breath before pulling out of you, flopping back against the couch. He looks over at you after a moment, patting his thigh. “C'mere, baby. Come.”

He waits until you settle on his lap, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. He softly wipes the tears away with his thumbs before drawing you in close, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

“Daddy's good girl. Took it like a champ, baby. Take a nap, yeah? I got ya.” He murmurs, his hand running up and down your back. He holds you tight against his body, his hand never easing up on rubbing the tension from your back until you pass out in his arms, cuddled up against his chest.

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue! 

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol 

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone. 

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did. 

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident. 

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights. 

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave. 

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you. 

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness. 

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.” Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you. 

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.” 

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.” 

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink. 

 “Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night. 

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there. 

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

 “Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble. 

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights. 

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle. 

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle. 

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes. 

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. 

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought. 

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth.  “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief. 

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress. 

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile. 

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?” 

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you. 

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.  

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.” 

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted. 

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these. 

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand. 

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble. 

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.” 

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.” 

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen. 

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?” 

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible. 

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach. 

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well. 

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you. 

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master. 

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms.  He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.” 

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life. 

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence. 

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth. 

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.” 

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking. 

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.” 

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow. 

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.” 

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved. 

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine. 

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave. 

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later. 

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern. 

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening.  “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage. 

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again. 

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked. 

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide.  He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this. 

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all. 

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you. 

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in. 

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines. 

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls. 

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.  

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.” He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him. 

[steviebears]

Hard to Love

SUMMARY: Seeing Eddie with the beautifully perfect Chrissy was weighing on your insecure heart. Eddie notices and calls you over.

GENRE: angst, fluff (good ending)

WARNINGS: insecure fem!reader

You watched intently from across the hall as Eddie closely listened to whatever Chrissy was saying. He had his arm leaned up against the locker next to hers, the look in his eye was very telling.

Chrissy looked perfect as always. She never seemed to have a bad hair day, or bad clothes day or bad.. face day. She looked too good in that little cheer outfit and you were sure Eddie thought the same.

They were such a cliche.

God, why couldn't you be like her? Be so dainty and cute like she was. You'd only ever be 'one of the guys' to Eddie, you were sure of it. There was honestly no point in pining after him anymore, he obviously had his eye on someone else this entire time. Someone much, much prettier than you ever could be.

You arrived at his door cold and shivering, hair damp and clothes soaked.

You arrived at his door cold and shivering, hair damp and clothes soaked.

You arrived at his door cold and shivering, hair damp and clothes soaked.

"What the- did you bike here?" He looks confused as he ushers your inside, taking your coat off for you.

"My mom has my car and you said it was an emergency." He stares at you with guilt and worry in his eyes, feeling terrible for making you bike in the rain.

"You need to take a hot shower or you'll catch a cold- if you haven't already."

"What's the emergency? Doesn't seem very pressing." You ask on the way to his bathroom.

"It's not urgent. Just- take a shower, love." He said before speeding to his room to grab you a shirt and some pants to change into.

It felt weird, getting undressed in Eddie's bathroom, smelling his shampoo and staring into the same wall he did when he was- that's not important. You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, feeling fed up with the feelings that bubble up every time you are around him.

You entered the room, Eddie's eyes widening at the bareness of your legs. You felt a little embarrassed and set his pajama pants atop his dresser.

-

Your fingers played with the hem of your shirt as you stared into the tv displaying some gameshow on a low volume.

"The pants didn't fit." You say out of the blue.

"What?" He asks, eyes not leaving the tv.

"Your pajama pants didn't fit, and then my bra was all wet so I couldn't wear that either. I wasn't trying to be a slut-" You start to ramble.

"What? I never thought you were, what is this about? Is that why you've been so distant? Did someone say somethin' to you?" Eddie shifts up, sitting straighter while his eyes bore into yours. He was going to kill whoever called you a slut.

"No! No. I don't know why I said that."

"It's not like you would ever see me in that way anyway." You say under your breath with a dry chuckle. You didn't expect him to hear it or care even if he had because it was true. He would only see Chrissy that way, obviously. It was selfish of you to think about him the way you did when he was so clearly hers. He shifts his body to fully face you this time.

"What?"

You don't say anything, because if you did, you were sure the lump in your throat would let loose and all of your pent up tears would spring loose. He studied your face closely. It wasn't often- especially now- that he got to look at you so close. The plumpness of your cheeks and the curve of your cheek bones, the shape of your nose and the little space where your brow bone met the bridge. He was looking so closely, that he quickly noticed the quivering of your bottom lip.

You just couldn't stop thinking about how much he probably likes her. And how much you would give for him to feel that way about you.

"Y/n." His tone was so low and hushed, and him saying your name alone was enough for the first droplet to push through the threshold. Your facial expression didn't change, just stayed the same as the first few hot tears rolled down, leaving a wet surface behind them for the cold air to cling to.

His warm hand pulled your face toward him.

"What is it, sweetheart?" You squeezed your eyes shut at your pet name causing more tears to fall.

"Why do you have to do that?" You whisper.

"Do what, baby?" You shake your head.

"Make it so hard to love you." You open your eyes to see the most sympathetic yet confused face you'd ever seen.

"You really don't know?" You almost laugh, it was kind of funny how oblivious he was to how much you loved him. He wanted to speak, to say anything but his throat closed up on him.

"I see the way you are with Chrissy. You don't have to say anything." You look back at the tv in hopes of letting this whole thing go.

"Chrissy?" He was still turned toward you and his eyes were studying your expression.

"I know you like her." His eyebrows furrow. Sure, she was pretty, but so were you. How could he pick Chrissy over his girl?

"But- Chrissy's not even..." He starts, thinking about all the things he loved about you, having a hard time choosing just one to say.

"Right. I should've guessed. Not even she is good enough for you, you'd like someone like the chicks on all these posters you have." You were salty now, just honestly pissed off that you weren't enough.

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't want Chrissy or the girls on my stupid posters." You stay silent, eyes looking through the tv at this point.

"I want you."

You finally turn to face him and make a genuine frown.

"You don't have to lie." Your voice breaks and the tears start up again.

He sits up.

"But I'm not! Why do you think I even hang out with you so much?"

"Because I'm just like one of the guys."

"Do you see me one on one with Gareth calling him my baby girl?" You sigh and wipe away your tears. The look of your puppy dog eyes was breaking Eddie's heart.

"I'm in love with you Y/n. How many more ways do you want me to say it?"

"But Chrissy, she's so pretty." You say slowly in such a heart wrenching tone.

"Who cares? You're prettier, always have been." He nudged your chin up to look at him.

"D'you really mean it?" Your face was still frowning and your eyes were glistening.

"Of course I mean it. You're the prettiest girl in the whole world. I can't believe you don't know that." His words were such a reassuring relief to you that you couldn't help your hands flinging around his neck as you bury your face in his chest. You sob into it, finally able to release all your insecurity. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you as tight as he can. His heart is breaking at the sound of your cries and the dampness of his shirt. He pets your hair as you start to calm down.

When you look up, the two of you are so close you can feel his breath on your lips. God, they looked to plump and soft. As if he was reading your mind, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. They were as soft as they looked. The kiss was short, seeing as he was testing the waters. But once he pulled away you chased his lips and pulled him in for another one causing him to lightly laugh at your eagerness.

"For the record, I do see you that way. You're driving me crazy wearing my shirt with no pants." He murmurs on your lips, making you giggle and tackle him.

[strang3lov3]

Tis’ But a Scratch

Kinda brat tamer/dom! Joel x stubborn fem Reader

Summary: when you’re injured and refuse to accept Joel’s help, he decides to adjust your attitude.

W/C: 4.3k

Warnings: brat tamer joel kinda, dom!joel, smut, rough sex, blowjobs, orgasm denial. Slight dubcon. Degradation. A little bit of fluff, implied age gap, spanking, cream pie, a bit of come play. Descriptions of injuries, but not too bad! I’m super squeamish and was able to stomach it for the most part.

A/N: based on this request by @speckledemerald ! I had a lot of fun with it and did not expect it to take this turn, but you guys know me well enough to know I’m a sucker for some rough Joel smut!

Master list

As always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated. If you like this story, let me know! I am thankful for each and every one of you who support my work ❤️

The slam of the kitchen door behind you makes you jump, you feel your blood running cold. Joel’s an angry guy, but you’ve never been directly on the receiving end of his anger. At least, not this much anger. He is fucking pissed.

“Coulda’ gotten us fuckin’ killed. You realize that, right?” Joel spits out at you, chucking his backpack on the kitchen island sharply. You startle at the sound. His eyes are piercing and full of anger when you look at him. Hatred, even. You feel your heart drop to your stomach, fearful and full of guilt. “You never watch your fuckin’ back. Always dawdling or somethin’ else. You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”

He’s right. You know he is. “We’re fine, though. I was handling it,” You don’t know if your words are meant to be a comfort to him or yourself.

You and Joel were in an old store on patrol together, going through it to see what supplies you could scrounge up. Joel was constantly scolding you for not keeping up with him, not watching your back at all. He was sick of babysitting you, he told you. Too old for it, he said. You rolled your eyes every time he complained.

So yeah, handling it. That’s what you’re sticking with. When a raider snuck up behind you and your back was pinned to him in a bone crushing embrace, his knife pressed into your side. And all you could do was kick and scream for Joel and thrash your body. Handling it.

“Yeah?” he asks you, his tone sarcastic and full of venom. “Had it all under control, is that right?” Joel is pacing around the house, making sure there’s no other raiders or clickers. This is a known safe house, far away from any civilization.

You and Joel spent plenty of time here together, often playing cards or just talking. The last time you were holed up here together, he watched you closely. The way your eyes traced his face, how they traced every line and curve of his muscled body. You thought you hid your desire, but Joel knew better. He knew just how you craved him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you spit back, enunciating your words harshly. You’re lying, you know it and so does Joel. The truth is, if Joel hadn’t shot the raider in the head and dragged you out of there, you don’t know if you’d be alive to be having this argument right now. But you’ll never tell Joel that.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ a goddamn river into the fuckin’ floor right now,”

Your brows furrow. “What are you–” you trail off, eyes darting to your side. You didn’t think the raider actually stabbed you. You lift your shirt, and nothing. But then it catches your eye.

The adrenaline must have kept you from realizing what happened to you. The raider managed to knife the top of your left thigh pretty good, a long cut all the way across. You couldn’t tell how deep it went or what. “Fuck,” you mumble.

“Blood everywhere. You know, that’s pretty fuckin’ close to your artery, genius,”

Don’t remind me, you think. Blood was never your strong suit. You press your hand into your thigh, your eyes flutter shut and your breaths become shallow when you see the liquid crimson painting your palm. Quickly, you walk to the couch in the living room and sit down with your head between your knees. You’re getting dizzy. “Just a scratch,” you mumble, to him or yourself, you don’t know.

“Get back here,” Joel barks at you. “You’re hurt. And I ain’t finished with you.”

You really don’t need Joel punishing you more than you’re already doing to yourself. You can’t take any more of his disappointed and angry looks. Any more of his words that cut so deep inside of your body.

“Fuck off,” you whisper, trying to compose yourself. Your vision is going spotty as you unbutton your jeans and push them down your legs, wincing as the rough fabric brushes over your wound. Your head is getting fuzzier, and Joel’s shouting something about other raiders being there at the store but you can barely understand him. He sounds miles away and underwater.

Joel follows you into the living room, reaching for your leg once he meets you at the dingy old sofa. It’s a dusty rose color with yellow and blue flowers. You kick his hand away and grit your teeth at the action. It fucking hurts. “Leave me alone, Joel. I’m fine,” your voice is weak and your eyes are getting glassy. Your lips lose their color. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” you pant.

“Oh, shit,” Joel whispers in realization, watching you lose yourself. He’s seen it all before. “You’re faintin’ again.”

Again.

You really didn’t handle blood well.

Once, Joel accidentally sliced his hand open trying to open an old can of fruit. You watched the entire thing and fainted right in front of him, ended up falling flat on your face. You have a scar on your chin from that night, now.

He spent the evening trying to bring you back to earth, feeding you the old fruit to get your blood sugar back up. Grumbling something about how you need to get it together if you’re gonna continue to be his patrol partner.

“No, I’m not,” your voice is barely above a whisper. You can’t admit defeat, admit that you should have been more conscious of your surroundings back at that old store, or else you wouldn’t be moments away from unconsciousness right now. You absolutely cannot let Joel win.

Joel lets out a deep sigh and crouches in front of you, trying to remove your hand from your thigh. You fight him, still. He can’t wrap his head around why you’re being so. Fucking. Stubborn.

“Stop it, Joel. I can take care of myself,”

Joel just grabs your wrist again, moving it away. You don’t have the energy to fight him off this time. “Let me see,” he mumbles. He takes in your injury, then leaves to grab his backpack. Once he’s situated, he begins his work. “Don’t need to be so proud. You’re hurt.”

He begins by pulling out a bottle of alcohol. You reach forward to take it from him, do it yourself. Deny him the satisfaction of picking up the pieces of the mess you’ve made of yourself, yet again.

He glares at you. “Knock it off,” he says gruffly. But you don’t, you just wiggle and avoid his touch. Pull away from him and push into his stomach with your foot. “Quit your squirmin’, for fuck’s sake. Too goddamn stubborn, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your cheeks go red at the pet name, your squirming comes to a halt. Joel takes notice of the effect his words have on you. “So that’s what it takes to get you to behave, hm? Call you sweetheart?”

He’s testing the waters…curious.

“No,” you lie. Yes.

There is an immediate change in the room, a tension between you and Joel in the atmosphere. It’s palpable, like you could reach out and grab it. Feel it between your fingers, even. Hot and heavy and impossible to ignore.

Joel reaches forward, covering your eyes with his hand. “Keep those eyes closed f’me, sweetheart. Don’t look. That’s it, now,” He removes his hand and your eyes are still closed, you know better than to look at the gore of your injured thigh. He continues, “Need to pull these pants down some more, alright?” You nod lazily in response, he pulls your pants down your legs and nudges your thighs apart. The cut goes further inward than either of you realized.

Joel gets to work then, dumping a bit of the alcohol over your wound. You groan and cry at the pain. It brings you back from your state of near-unconsciousness. “Fuck, Joel,”

He tries to ignore the little moans and fuck, Joel’s you let out as he disinfects your cut. “I know, I know,” he croons at you. “It’ll be over soon. Promise.”

He reaches for a rag and dumps some of his canteen’s water on it, then gently scrubs away the blood. He starts on the outside of your thigh and washes the blood off of your skin.

And then it happens. White-hot sparks of electricity deep in your core.

He reaches the inside of your thigh and accidentally brushes your center, covered only by the thin cotton of your panties. You let out a gasp in response.

“Sorry,” Joel mumbles. “Your wound is real close to yourself there. Might happen again.”

“No, it’s okay. I trust you,” you reply. And you do, but a part of you is hoping he touches you again.

“Doin’ so good f’me,” he mumbles, and his words have an intoxicating effect on you. Does he know what he’s doing to you? How he’s making you fall to pieces?

It does happen again. And again. And each time, you let out little gasps and moans. You almost wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, but you don’t mind. You wonder if he knows how aroused you’re getting with every brush of his fingertips.

He works for a while longer, then wraps up your wound with gauze. “All better now, sweetheart. I was feelin’ nice for some reason and didn’t torture ya with stitches, but I’ll check on it later and we might need to do some. Depends on how it’s holdin’ up, but I’ll be gentle if it comes to that,” He says softly, apologetically. His words are his olive branch extended to you, his apology for being too harsh with you in your injured state.

“Oh, how kind,” you bite back. And just like that, your feistiness has returned, you’re right back to being your stubborn and sarcastic self just like before. And you don’t really know why you build your walls back up, but you do. You’re not gonna take any pity from him. His words echo in your mind. Too proud. “I would’ve been fine without all your help, you know. And I won’t need any when we get back, so drop it.”

Joel’s soft gaze leaves and is replaced by another fiery look of offense. “Oh, fuck you. Jesus, would it kill you to say thanks?”

“Fuck you!” you spit. Joel blinks when your saliva hits his face, he wipes it from his cheek, then examines it on his palm. Slowly, he meets your eyes, his gaze dark and lustful. The tension in the air strengthens, you feel your heart begin to beat rapidly. You didn’t mean to spit on him, but you’re gonna stand your ground and not take any of his shit.

Joel rises to his feet, so big and radiating power and masculinity above you. “You wanna try that again?” he asks, his voice is low and dark, lacking any semblance of amusement.

“I, fu-” you stutter out. Your confidence is beginning to dwindle as you choke out, “Don’t need your fucking help. Don’t need to be a part of your fucking savior complex.”

Joel laughs dryly. You’ve really pissed him off now, you can see the pure hatred in his eyes. They’re icy cold, piercing right through you. “You’d better swallow your pride before I shove it down your throat myself, sweetheart. Sick of this attitude, you fuckin’ brat,”

“Make me,” you retort, challenging him. “How’re you gonna do that?”

You wonder just how far he’ll push you. What boundaries he’s gonna test…

“I don’t think you wanna find out, sweetheart. Not gonna be nice about it, I promise you that,”

“Big surprise,” you snarl, “There’s not one nice bone in your body. You’re a fucking ass–”

“Gonna start by fuckin’ that pretty mouth of yours, teach you a lesson,” he interrupts you. His voice is cool and collected, you watch his hands make their way to his front, he palms his growing erection. He eyes you questioningly for a moment, using them to ask you sincerely if this is okay. If it’s too much. You nod, understanding his silent question. He nods back.

You open your mouth to speak, but Joel wastes no time shutting you up. “You suck my dick like a good girl, and maybe I’ll consider makin’ you come. But I’m not feelin’ very generous yet,”

“What are you talking–” you trail off, watching Joel unbuckle his belt with his swift and deftly moving hands.

“You’re drippin’ for me, darlin’. Didn’t think I noticed? Could practically taste it,”

Your body betrays you and you let out a whimper at the thought of Joel’s tongue in your pussy. How he’d explore your folds with the firm and wet muscle. Joel chuckles in amusement, freeing his cock from the constraint of his jeans. He takes one imposing step in front of you, his thick and hard cock is held loosely between his thumb and his pointer and middle fingers.

“Not so tough now, hm? Not when your pleasure’s on the table, I see. Selfish fuckin’ brat,”

“Joel,” you moan. He shuts you up by shoving his cock in your mouth in one swift motion, your lips part around the soft and smooth flesh of his tip. He’s slow at first, making sure you can take it. When he’s satisfied with your readiness, he shoves it as far down your throat as you can comfortably take.

“Fuck, that’s all you needed. God, sweetheart. You’re so much nicer with my cock in your mouth, you know that?” he groans, his hands finding your scalp. He tangles his fingers through your hair and pulls gently, when you moan he tugs your hair roughly.

You hum in response, wrapping your hands around his upper thighs and squeezing his ass. He pushes them away with force. “You just don’t get it do you, you poor dumb thing? You take what I give you now, girl. Don’t be greedy,”

His words send pangs of desire through your body, you’ve never been so aroused in your life. His cock is hard and heavy on your tongue, and with each powerful thrust of his hips your nose nudges that tuft of dark hair surrounding his member.

“Fuck,” he hisses through gritted teeth. Your eyes are blown wide, tears pricking the corners. There’s spit dribbling down your chin and you look completely fucking ruined.

The dull ache between your thighs grows stronger, and ever so subtly move your hand to your center. Or so you think. Just before you can press your fingers to your clit, Joel pulls his dick from your mouth and grabs your wrist in a vice grip.

“God, you just don’t fucking learn, do you? I told you to suck my dick like a good girl,”

“I did, Joel,” you whine in protest. You move your other hand to your center in hopes of relieving the pressure, but he grabs that one too.

“God, you’re dumb. No, you didn’t. You didn’t listen, didn’t take what I was givin’,” he yanks you up by your wrists, drags you to the arm of the couch and shoves you. Hard. “So I’m gonna take what I want from ya now. And you can cry and beg as much as you want, and I still won’t let you come. ‘Cause you can’t follow simple directions.”

Your stomach drops, you realize just how serious he is. He’s gonna use you and toss you aside, leave you crying for release. “Joel,” you cry. He’s breaking you down.

“No point in cryin’ now. Just shut your mouth like a good girl and take my cock,”

You move to face him, but he turns you back in place. “Bend over,” he demands.

When you don’t jump at his command, he shoves you again, forcing your chest down into the arm of the couch. He roughly tugs down the fabric of your panties, and then you feel the sting of his big hand striking your ass, red hot pain spreading over your cheeks. “Fuck,” you yelp in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Shut up,” he tells you sternly, massaging the stinging flesh of your ass. It’s a gentle reminder he’s still here. “God, you’re stupid. Poor thing. How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet?”

You let out a moan in protest and he smacks your ass again. “Spread your legs. No back talking, now. Be a good girl and open wide for me. That’s it,” he croons as you shuffle your feet apart.

He drags his cock through your folds, purposely stopping just before your clit, denying you any sort of relief. He slips the tip of his cock in your pussy, then without warning, pulls you onto his cock. Hard.

You cry out and he shushes you, reminding you to keep quiet. He repeats the motion again and you bite your lip to keep your noises suppressed.

He fucks you with both hands on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin, surely decorating you with bruises. The room is filled with the noises of his heavy breathing and skin slapping skin, as well as the wet squelching of your pussy.

“Fu-” you start, moving a hand to cover your mouth.

“That’s it,” he breathes in approval. “Quiet.”

You bite back moans, feeling your stomach tighten. You’re getting close, just need a bit more.

His cock begins to pulse inside of you, his once calculated thrusts now sloppy and frenzied. “Feel that?” He asks. “Gettin’ close, now. Almost over, sweetheart. See what this pussy’s doin’ to me?”

You can’t help the wail that falls from your lips. You’re in agony, you need to come. And after this, you don’t know if you’ll be able to relieve yourself. Your fingers will never compare to his cock, you’ll never be able to match the pace or power with which he fucks you.

“S’matter, sweetheart?” He taunts you. “Breakin’ the rules again, you know. Do I need to remind you how good girls act?” He rubs a hand over your ass in warning, tapping his fingers on the swollen and still stinging flesh.

You shake your head no. It’s painful, the way he’s punching into that sweet spot deep inside you. So close yet so far from your orgasm.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I want you to nod your head yes or shake your head no, got it? Still don’t want you makin’ any noise,”

You nod in anticipation of what he’s going to ask of you. He’s still fucking you at a punishing pace.

“Been thinkin’ that you’d look real pretty comin’ all over my cock. Don’t you think?”

You nod again.

“Unfortunately, baby, you’re not allowed to. Which is a goddamn shame, of course,” he mumbles, his thrusts coming to a slowed pace.

He continues, “I was thinking if you said the magic words, I might make it all better for you,”

You whimper at the prospect of release, then quickly swallow your moans.

“You know those words, right baby? Please, thank you. Manners,”

You nod again, pushing your ass back into his groin. He swats at you with his hand, but not terribly hard. Just a gentle warning.

“Maybe all of this could have been avoided if you said ‘thank you Joel’. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position, practically beggin’ me to let you come,”

You nod in response, not willing to argue any longer. “Say thank you for my cock down your throat. Did you a favor, anyway. God knows you needed to shut up,”

“Joel, fuck. I need to come,” you rasp out, breaking his rule.

“Say thank you, sweetheart. Come on now, mind your manners,” God, how sexy and low his voice is.

You don’t thank him. Not yet. You won’t thank him, not until he breaks down every ounce of fight left in you.

He slaps your ass once more, then moves his hand to your clit, gingerly rubbing light circles into the sensitive bud. Teasing you. “Thank you, Joel,” he instructs you to say. “Thank you for your cock.”

You ignore him still.

He pulls you off his cock, whips you around to face him and looks deep into your eyes, notching the tip of his cock in your pussy once more. He begins pushing all the way in. “Say it.” He says in a taunting tone, elongating his words. His thumb is on your clit again, and he’s thrusting in and out of you slowly. “I’m givin’ you an out here. Just say those words f’me.”

You groan in frustration. Are you really going to give in?

“Come on, sweetheart. Know you need it. Look at the fucking mess you’re makin’, needy thing. Soakin’ my cock,”

And there it is again, that sickeningly sweet pet name he so affectionately calls you. Fuck it, you decide.

“Thank you,” you whisper, finally. Repeating what he wanted to hear you say for him.

“For what?”

The words kind of just slip out of your mouth, “For taking care of me,” you admit.

Joel’s movements falter, and he looks at you with a puzzled expression. It’s not at all what he thought you were going to say, what he wanted you to say, but nonetheless he’s pleased that he’s managed to fuck away some of your pride. He just smirks knowingly, pulls you in close and kisses you.

It’s sweet and slow, he’s taking his time massaging your tongue with his own. “Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he murmurs against your lips, fucking you again. He’s rubbing concentrated circles into your clit and continues. “Not so hard, hm? Just listen to me and let me take care of ya. However I want.”

You nod feverishly and pull yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His skin is hot and sweaty under your fingertips, the circles he’s tracing into your clit have your stomach tightening and your face contouring in pleasure. You’re right there, he can feel it. He’s not far behind.

“You earned it, baby. Let go now,” he whispers, hot breath tickling your ear.

And with that, you come harder than you ever have. His ministrations on your clit don’t stop, he keeps fucking you through it. “Joel,” you moan. “Oh, fuck. I’m there, I’m there.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. Ride it out with me. I’m right there with ya,” he assures you, his thrusts becoming frenzied as he chases his own orgasm. His neck and cheeks are flushed red, and in mere moments, he’s pulsing inside you, spurting hot and thick ropes of his seed that paint your insides. It’s a delicious feeling, one you’ve been craving for a while now.

He’s panting on top of you, his forehead pressed to your own, slick with sweat and sticky hair. You’re still holding onto him for dear life, catching your breath. He pulls out of you slowly, watching the mixture of your come drip on to the rosy couch. He pushes it back inside your worn pussy with his fingers, then brings them to his lips and licks them clean.

You giggle, your head dropping to his shoulder. He holds you like that for a moment, letting you steady yourself.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” he speaks softly. “Didn’t mean to get out of hand. You okay? How’s your thigh?” His voice is full of concern, his hands on either side of your face. His eyes are sparkly and the darkest brown, the crease between his brows a little more prominent than usual. “Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me. I liked it,” you admit sheepishly, assuring him that everything is okay. You’re slightly embarrassed. Who knew you were such a freak? “My thigh is…I’m fine, I promise. It’s just a scratch.”

He says your name sternly, shooting you a warning look. “Let me see it. Can’t trust you,”

“Fine,” you concede, biting back a grin. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t flattered by his concern, the way he’s fawning over you.

He bends down in front of you, gently pulling back the gauze. Your wound is a little irritated in the rigorous fucking you and Joel participated in, but was mostly okay. He decides to clean it and wrap it again in new gauze, telling you he’s not wanting to risk infection. “So,” he starts undressing your wound. “Gonna listen to me from now on, right?

You nod your head. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off, “I know you didn’t. Just need you to be careful, okay? Need you to listen to me. I’m lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,”

You wince in pain when he dumps more alcohol on your wound. “I just…I can take care of myself, you know?”

“I know you can. I know,” he says. Part of him wants to argue more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he silently works, wondering why you buck him on this, why you refuse to ask for help or admit you may need it. Whether it be on patrol or when you’re hurt, or fainting in front of him because you can’t handle a bit of blood. Thank god you’re never on nursing duty at the infirmary. He won’t press you anymore, though.

You share a moment of silence together, both unsure of what to say. What does this mean for your relationship in the future? Joel finishes wrapping your wound, and helps you stand up on shaky legs. He dresses himself, then tosses you your clothing. When he reaches for your pants, his hand falls through the massive hole on the thigh from where the raider knifed you

“Just a scratch, my ass” he mumbles, you hear the smirk in his voice. “Just a flesh wound, right?”

You smile as he tosses you the tattered jeans. “Yup. Just a flesh wound,” you say as you dress yourself again.

Joel leads you to the door, silently letting you know it’s time to get back to Jackson.

“You don’t even understand that reference,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Jesus, kid.”

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @spideysimpossiblegirl

[familyvideostevie]

hey! do you think you could do a steve x reader fic that's grumpy x sunshine? ty in advance!

i have truly had this in my inbox for over a year, so i am so very sorry for hoarding it. i've twisted it a little -- here we've got what happens when you, usually the sunshine to steve's grumpy, has a bit of a bad day yourself. hope you like! sunshine!reader and grumpy!steve on a day when you're the grumpy one | fluff, 1.2k

Steve notices immediately. It's kind of weird, actually. He leans heavily against your door as he shuts it behind him, toeing off his shoes. The plastic of the takeout bags digs into his hands a little but he's just glad to be here, glad to finally see you after a long day. He likes your place better than his and he likes you best of all.

But something is off. There's no music, no familiar smell of that beachy candle he bought you burning. Are you napping? It's possible, but you sounded pretty excited when you called him at lunch asking him to come for dinner. And Steve, sue him, kind of expected you to greet him.

It's kind of an asshole thought, he can admit that, but you always do. You're always nothing short of thrilled to see him, your boyfriend, like he's been away for years rather than a day of work. You throw your arms around him and sing-song his name and kiss him sloppily because you're smiling so wide. Your love for him is infectious and he feels it all the way to his bones.

Because he's not exactly known for being a nice guy, right? Sure, he's not like, a jackass, not anymore, but he's not exactly cheery all the time. He's quieter than he was, a little more serious. It just comes with the territory. Getting older, dealing with shit. God knows he's dealt with a lot of shit.

But you? You're fucking sunshine. There's no other way to put it. He has no idea where you get your endless smiles for him, the laughter that bubbles out of you like sheer goodness personified. And you're with him. You love him.

Steve doesn't get it but hey, he's not going to complain.

So, something has to be wrong. "It's me!" he calls into the apartment. "Steve," he tacks on a bit lamely, hoping it'll make you laugh.

"On the couch," you call back. You don't sound sick or anything so that's not it. He pops into the kitchen to set down your dinner before shucking off his jacket and padding to the living room. When he spots you something in his chest loosens. God, he's so gone for you.

"Hey," he says lightly.

You look up at him from your book with a small smile but it's dimmer than he expects. "Hi, Steve," you say. You're pressed against the arm of the sofa with your legs stretched out, a book in your lap. You reach for him with one hand over the back of the couch. "Did you bring dinner?"

"Sure did," he says. He twines his fingers with yours and leans over to press his lips to your forehead. You sigh. "Nah, screw it," he says. "I'm coming over."

You know what he's going to do. "Be careful --" you try to say but he's already hoisting himself over and onto the couch. You pull your legs to your chest just in time as he bounces on the cushions a little bit.

Steve likes to be close to you. Everyone gives him shit for it when you're out, how he's always on you so much. Arm around your shoulder, thigh pressed to yours at the table. Hand in your pocket or holding yours. You've told him you like it, too, that it's grounding, so that's what he's aiming for. You shove your socked toes under his thigh and he wraps a hand around your ankle.

Time to see what the hell is going on with you. "So," he says. "Who do I need to beat up?"

You look moderately amused. "What do you mean by that, Steve?"

He reaches for you with his free hand. You've got a crease between your brows and he smooths it with his thumb. "You seem...down."

You hug yourself with your arms and sink deeper into the couch and lose his gaze. "Do I?" you say softly. "Sorry."

"Woah," Steve rushes to say. "Woah, no, hey, don't apologize. I just want to see what's wrong."

You say no more. His thumb strokes your ankle lightly and he wonders what the hell he's going to do to make you feel better. He's not very good at this part. You're always the one to bring him out of bad moods, to remind him of all the good stuff he's got going on. He can do this for you.

Steve gently pulls the book from your lap, folding the corner of the page before he puts it on the table.

"I was reading that," you say lightly.

"Yeah, well," he says. "You know I need attention to survive." You huff a laugh. Okay, progress.

Steve reaches for your face again. He lets go of your ankle this time so he can cup your cheek, your knees pressing into his chest a little. It's not a great angle but he can work with it.

"Baby," he says. It's your favorite thing he calls you other than your name since he saves it for moments like this -- when it's just the two of you. "Can you tell me what's wrong? So I can help?"

Your eyes shut and you lean into his palm. You take a deep breath and it shudders a little in your chest.

"I don't know, Steve," you whisper. "I know I'm usually so -- so -- happy, but I just got kind of sad this afternoon." You pull the words from yourself like a confession and Steve hates it. He hates how you sound disappointed in yourself.

"That's okay," he says. "Christ, that's more than okay. You can feel however you want. I mean, come on, you know I'm grumpy basically all the time." He hopes yet again it will make you laugh but he fails miserably as you sniffle. "Okay, come here."

You pull your feet from under his thigh and he hauls your legs over his lap so he can give you a real hug. He can feel your nose in his neck as you inhale deeply. He rubs his palm up and down your spine. He's had bad days, too. Hell, he has lots of them. It just happens, he just never realized it could happen to you, too.

"So, and correct me if I'm wrong here because you know me, but what I'm hearing is you just feel like shit and there's not much more to it."

You nod into his embrace. "That's about right."

"What can I do ?" You pull back at his question and give him a real smile, brighter than anything in the room.

"Just this," you say. "I'm sure it'll go away." Your fingers trace the line of his nose, his chin.

"It's okay if it doesn't," Steve reminds you. You tell him the same thing all the time. "Seriously. I know we have this whole dynamic or whatever but you can feel like shit forever, if you want. I hope you don't, obviously, but I'll take care of you if --"

You press your fingers over his mouth. "It's okay, Steve," you say. "I'll be fine. But I know you would."

Your own lips replace your fingers and you kiss him sweetly. He isn't ashamed to say he melts into it a little. He wanted to kiss you the second he walked in the door.

He's about to turn this into something a little less sweet when your stomach grumbles between you and you both pull back with a laugh. "Okay," he says. "Well, that I can fix."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[scuderiahoney]

congrats on 1k!! u deserve it so so so much<3 could i ask for danny + "you drew stars around my scars" (cardigan by taylor swift) please:)

1k celebration! 💛 thank you so much! this one was so so sweet I love soft danny

You're laying in bed with Danny early one morning. Sunshine streams in through the curtains, cast over your bare skin and his, too. He stirs slightly, opens his eyes and smiles at you, blinking long lashes over his cheeks.

He runs his hand down your bare arm and over your side. His fingers dance along your ribs, brush over your hip. Your leg is tucked over his, and he follows the line of it with his hands and his eyes. You run your own fingers against his cheek, scraping on the stubble.

His breath catches in his chest, and his fingers stop their journey. You look where he’s looking, watch him press his thumb into the mark on your knee. His brows are furrowed. It’s a long line, spanning halfway across your kneecap. His finger traces back and forth over it, and he frowns.

“I fell when I was a teenager,” you explain. “Scraped it really bad.”

He pouts, like it’s still causing you pain. Then he holds his elbow up and out so you can see the soft, smooth skin of his inner arm. There’s a line running there, too, jagged and silvery pale against the rest of his skin.

“Crashed a dirt bike when I was 11,” he says. “Didn’t tell my mum for an hour cause I was scared she’d take the bike away.”

You laugh, reaching out to trace the scar. “Did she?”

“Yeah, of course,” he laughs. “But dad gave it back eventually.”

You grin. You can just imagine little Danny, begging for the bike back, arm still bandaged up. There’s something strange about it, about the scars. About physical reminders of the lives you’d led before you even knew the other existed. Nostalgia that runs deep in your bones, days where you’d dreamt of a person like him to share your life with.

You feel his fingers moving on your knee. He’s drawing shapes, patterns- you look down, watch him trace stars against your skin. Suddenly, your throat is tight. It’s utterly ridiculous. You shouldn’t feel this way over something like this. Over your boyfriend drawing stars around childhood scars. You reach out and do the same to his. A whole constellation around a long healed wound. Maybe that’s what the two of you have been doing for each other this whole time- not just the physical scars.

When Danny leans in and kisses you, morning breath and all, you can’t help but think maybe he’s feeling it, too.

[inklore]

sending a little commander mills thot 💖 stopping for the night in a dark, deep cave. sharing a bed roll quickly turning into something more, as you end up on your hands and knees beneath him. there’s a rattle of stones near the entrance and his large hand is pressing over your mouth to keep you quiet - his senses on high alert for danger. but even then, mills can’t help the shallow rock of his hips - unable to resist how good you feel

warning signs

pairing: commander mills x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k+

contents: unprotected p in v, creampie, small amount of dirty talk, i didn't classify what planet they were on but threats are occurring, slight enemies to lovers, rough.

note: i'd let this man have his way with me in an open warzone and i have no shame about it because this idea has me insane.

You should have known. 

You should have known this planet would be nothing but a bad omen when you had to emergency land on it. When you lost contact, your ship deciding to stop working properly. When the only way of getting out a signal was to rig the system built within the interface of the hunk of metal. Ultimately destroying any chance of getting out of here on it but allowing you to get out a weakened signal, you hoped your home planet would come and swiftly send someone to you before this planet showed just why it was inhabitable by those who walked on two legs and didn’t prefer the taste of game. 

You should have known that Mills would be the worst person to crash land with.

Should have known he’d only raise your blood pressure and have a permanent scowl curve your brows until it gave you a headache. 

And you really should have known that he’d be this big. 

His stature alone suggesting that was more to him than broad deltoids beneath those clothes. More than just deadpan looks and side eyes of scolds and warnings behind those iris’s. Behind the moments and trips the two of you have taken together over the years. 

You should have known that his cock would stretch you like this. Making your insides burn when he thrusts inside of you. Your walls accommodating something that’s bringing you pleasure at the same time it has you mewling in pain—something big and hot and heady that’s making your fingers dig into the dirt. 

Your back arched at an angle that has your body scraping forward against the ground every time Mills snaps his hips against your ass. His cock going deeper and deeper—the tip hitting that spot inside of you that makes your body want to run from him, want to escape the pleasure and the sting of him going past what your bodies used to—his nails digging into your hips. Moonshaped marks embossed in your skin as he holds your ass in place. As he refuses to let you squirm away from him.

Because you wanted this, didn’t you?

“You’ve been begging for it.” He says with a heavy breath. A groan mixed somewhere in there, you’re sure of it but can’t decipher it fully with how you sound. How the back of your hand is covered in your own drool and bite marks from trying to muffle the moans and whines coming from your mouth. 

There’s a rock under your knee that has left an imprint into your bone, has cut the skin with how your body is moving. If you focus on it hard enough, you may even feel a trickle of blood. Or the indents of stone and caked on dirt on your elbows. 

But all you can feel—all you can hear, sense, smell—is Mills and what he’s doing to you. What he’s doing to your body and how you never want him to stop. Never want to go back to the time when the two of you pretended there was nothing there. 

The thrusting of his hips imprinted on your nerve endings, and you can’t imagine a time, a moment, or a place where you don’t want him to bend you over something and take you. Have you. 

“Who knew all you needed was my cock to have you so compliant.” Mills grabs the back of your neck. His grip just as rough and embossed as the fingers at your hips. The weight of his chest drapes over you in a way that has you pushed further into the ground and your ass higher in the air, shoving his cock to the hilt, a cry falling from your lips. His name coated in a pleading whimper. 

“Next time you’re not listening to me, all I’ll have to do is fuck you, huh? Bend you over and fuck you until you’re ready to admit who’s in charge here.” 

There’s some part of your psyche that wants to fight against this. That wants to throw his words back in his face with something snide and angry, but you’re fucking pudy between his fingers, and he’s molding you into a perfect compliant hole for him. 

Into someone who wants to follow his orders just as long as they get his cock in return. 

But you still open your mouth to try to tell him just as much. To ask him to fuck you harder or agree with him, you’re not sure because it dies in your throat.

The words fall to the pit of your stomach as the both of you stop in place as your body feels the soft rumble of something moving outside of the cave. The rustling of trees, rocks, and branches being stepped on. 

“Mills,” you murmur his name. Soft enough for him to hear but apparently too loud for his liking as he shushes you. His hot breath against your ear, his hands maneuvering your legs so they’re underneath him now as he lays on top of you. The massive width of his chest makes you feel engulfed in him. 

His hair against your cheek, his breath held in his lungs just like your own. 

You try to listen. Try to hear anything approaching, growing closer to your indisposed state. The two of you not in a position to move as quickly as you should to protect yourselves. Mills not seeming to be as on edge as you are, the faith he has in himself to grab his gun quickly enough if whatever is outside moves in closer, is almost aggravating. 

Your mouth parts to tell him this, to push him off of you so the both of you won’t die while he’s still hard inside of you. 

But instead of an argument, a gasp falls from your lips as you feel Mills rock his hips against you. The tip of his cock pulled back to your entrance only to be thrust back in slow, and agonizingly sharp all in one quick rock. 

“Mi-” his palm presses against your mouth, silencing you.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your ear. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve been needing this, to fuck you.” His heavy breath and the deep timber of his tone as he tries to keep quiet, as he speaks the words for only you to hear, to know, and to feel, wash over your spine and lay achinly between your thighs where the shallow rock of his hips against your ass has your nailbeds housing rockbed as you try not to become a sobbing mess behind his hand. “You feel s’fucking good.”

And if the two of you were to die like this; with Mills rutting against you, his cock stretching you, his deep breaths and praises against your ear, your slick coating his length as you come, and his come leaking from you—leaving your pussy a warm and sticky mess as he continues to thrust inside of you even after the fact, as if he’s trying to keep all he can inside of you—then so be it. 

You’d die happy.

[jayke0]

Filled To The Brim

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem reader

Summary: kinktober day 25, Breeding

Rating: 18+

Warnings/Content: Breeding, fluff, p in v, unprotected sex, a bit of crying, overstimulation, rough Steven, brief nipple play, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 989 (ik it's short, but it's good)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

"What did you just say?"

Steven's eyes shoot open and widen, looking up at you like a deer in headlights.

"Oh shit, shit, shit, shit… me and my big bloody mouth… I'm sorry love, that– that was– weird of me to say—."

You watch the gorgeous man struggle underneath you, apologizing profusely for letting his words and mind get the better of him. He looks so beautiful like this, a sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin to make it glisten in the afternoon light, his messy curls sprawling across the pillow and his forehead, and his necklace balancing perfectly between the join in his collar bones.

Slowly, you lean down to his ear and bite the shell of his earlobe softly. "Say it again, I liked it baby."

It pulls a soft whimper from his chest and makes him squirm underneath you, you're able to feel his cock throbbing inside you as you rock your hips back and forth on him and sit back up. "Tell me how you wanna breed me Steven, please." You pout. 

"Shit, dove, I wanna cum inside you so bad, I wanna breed that pussy… please lemme do it. Please, pet."

You start bouncing on him faster, moaning and nodding to the wonderful words that spill from the arguably most reserved man of the three of them. Your hand grabs his and places it on your chest, which he takes as a sign to play with your nipples and tug the hard buds softly. "More baby! Tell me more!" Breathy moans are all that leave your lips after that.

"I'm gonna knock you up love, fuck. 'M gonna fill you up to the brim and make you spill my spend from your hole–."

Holy shit, he's good. You're pretty sure you both look like a scene out of a porno right now… not that you'd know, your head is thrown back so far that you feel your vocal chords straining with each moan. He's fucking up into you with staggered thrusts, one hand frantically gripping your waist while the other continues to roll your nipples between his fingers. As you drive down on him repeatedly, your fingers come between your legs to touch that bundle of nerves that has your toes curling in seconds.

"Don't cum, Steven–not yet. Save it for me baby!—" you manage to blurt out before you're sliding down on his cock one last time to take him all and shaking wildly, thighs clamping shut as you're blinded by pleasure, which is prolonged by your boyfriend's sweet whimpers as he fends off his own orgasm.

"Good boy." You say shakily, rubbing his chest. "good bo—."

Before you can finish, the man is flipping you over onto your back, making your eyes open in surprise.

He tugs your hips till your ass is resting on his thighs and his hands are wrapped around your hips, gripping you tightly to keep you in place.

"Now, I get to breed you properly, yeah love? Please say I can…" 

You feel him rutting into you, short bursts of pleasure coursing through your body and making your nerves tingle with overstimulation. "Of course you c–an, sweetheart," your voice is hoarse. "Breed me baby, please."

Steven's lip seemingly trembles as his brows knit together and he focuses on fucking another orgasm out of you; and filling you with his pent up arousal. He's not caring with his thrusts anymore, hips slamming into yours at a skin-slapping rate, his jaw hanging loosely.

"I love fucking you like this, pet, so so much. Just makes me wanna use you for days and–ah!– cum in you over and over—" Your boyfriend's pace is getting sloppy, but it's still managing to pull you closer and closer to the edge as you look up at him with teary eyes, that same necklace now dangling in your face as he curls over you.

The man presses his face into the pillow as if to hide himself and the filth coming from his mouth, his arm winding underneath you and cradling you while your legs are now straight up in the air. It's a humiliating position, but it makes your cunt feel so good; it's constantly clenching around him and begging for his seed.

Your nails dig into his shoulder blades. "Fuck, Steven, please– holy shit… breed me baby. God, I need you to cum–." You continue to ramble in his ear, a few tears falling down your face at the bruising force he's using. "Knock me up sweetheart… wanna have your babies." 

Suddenly, you feel his hips stutter for a second as muffled moans fill your ears and you feel him spurting hot white inside you, painting your insides with everything he has… but he doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until he can't move anymore, his muscles tensing to stop him from collapsing on you.

You pant heavily. Your built up orgasm subsides, a little to your displeasure, but as your boyfriend pulls his flushed face from the pillow you can't be disappointed for more than a few seconds, a smile replacing the frown.

His soft eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles back, that big giddy grin that shows literally everything he can give you, just pure happiness that you can't help but replicate. 

"You ok? Sorry… got a bit rough on you there, I know that's not really my 'style'." You feel his warm hand trace your features, thumb wiping the wet trails on your cheeks. "More of Marc's thing, innit?"

"It was perfect, baby, I'm fucking peachy." You giggle softly. You're happy to ignore the ache between your legs, but your boyfriend isn't, noticing how you're still throbbing on him.

"D'you want some help, love?" He asks in the sweetest voice.

"Yes please, if you wouldn't mind."

"I never do." The man pecks your lips before sinking down your body to relieve you of that ache.

...........................................................................

Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra @queerponcho @summonthesoups @motleyfolk @steven-grants-world @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @minigirl87 @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar

(Lmk if you wanna be added or taken off the tag list and i will work my magic 👍)

[anadiasmount]

literally getting a bone crushing hug from jude cause he’s missed you dearly

you stumbled back surpised, needing to catch your balance before you fell to the ground. your boyfriend had engulfed you into one of those hugs that meant either two things, he wanted to hold you or he’d done something wrong. your arms wrapped around his middle, jude sighing with relief and immediately relaxing in your hold.

with no hesitation he picked you up, grabbing the back of your thighs, your legs replacing where your hands once were, earning a small gasp and yelp from you. “uhm jude?” you curiously asked, head resting just above his temple and hand on the back of his neck as he walked you to the couch. “are you okay baby?”

he shook his head no, starting to worry you since he stood quiet without explaining his reasoning. “before you ask, i didn’t do anything this time,” he said muffled, setting you down onto the floor, hands resting on your hips as you fixed his hoodie and beanie he had on. “so what did you do?” you raised your brow awaiting his response.

“nothing. i just really missed you y/n. the whole night, yesterdays game, today on the bus, i just missed you so much,” jude released, bringing you once closer to him, you having to stand to on your tippy toes to reach his height, which was impossible since he literally towers over you.

“aw baby,” you said with a huge grin, placing a kiss on the corner or his jaw where he shyly looked away. your hands wrapped on his shoulders, jude pressing kisses on your exposed upper arms in a soft and loving manner. “it was so bad. i didn’t know what to do or who to go to. i looked around awaiting you but i remember we weren’t at home,” he confessed.

“i’ve never been so angry at a game or person ever y/n, besides your ex that one time,” jude teased earning a playful slap from you. “i’m serious though, yesterday made me realize how much you do for me and just how much you mean to me. i missed you so so so so so much,” he exaggerated the miss, sitting on the couch a lowering you gently on his lap.

“win or lose, i need you to know i’m a phone call or hug away, okay?” you reassured him, thumbs gliding across his stained cheeks. “can i say something?” you close one eye as you asked in a questioning tone. jude hummed urging you to speak up. “i missed you too,” you whisper, feeling jude’s fingertips tickling your rib cage and neck.

you giggled and squirmed around, laying flat on the couch with your back as jude laid between your legs, his muscular arms wrapping are your body. he found a comfortable position, head on your chest with closed eyes, feeling the overwhelming tiredness and soreness after the game. “just relax jude okay, you’re safe with me here.”

“i always feel safest here in your arms. my personal teddy bear.”

[tripleyeeet]

STUPID, DASHING VAMPIRE

SUMMARY: Astarion attempts to help you after a bad flare up.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,110

WARNINGS: Descriptions of chronic pain. Also unedited because I can't be bothered, my hands hurt too much.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Had a bad flare up and decided to whip up something a bit indulgent for all the arthritic bitches out there. <3

MASTERLIST

-

“Darling?”

You hear him call to you from the doorway, a hint of curiosity laced in his words, most likely wondering why you’re still here. As he comes up to greet you, you notice the soft expression that quickly turns into worry once he sees you, both brows moving towards the centre of his face as he crouches down. 

“Are you alright?”

Wedged between your thumb and your forefinger the lock pick you’re attempting to use sits idle in your hands, refusing to budge through the stiffness of your joints as you sigh. 

At this point, you’ve been at it for ages —trying to will your digits to perform the simplest of duties. Originally, the plan was for Astarion to loot the other room while you’d work through this one but not long after you’d started you began to feel that familiar itch. That pulsating ache that often hits you after a long day’s worth of travelling. 

“I’m fine. It’s just —it’s—“

Frustrated, you force your hands to drop the lock pick. Hearing it clatter to the ground, you deeply inhale and bring your frozen hands to your temples, pressing your wrists against the heated skin, realizing it’s been a while since you’ve had a flareup this bad. So long that you almost forgot how awful it could feel. How such a small, innocuous sensation could become so largely detrimental to your well-being. 

“Is it just your hands?” 

Already knowing, he reaches out for your palms, pulling them away from your face as he further situates himself on the floor, watching you shake your head. 

“Back too?”

This time you nod, swallowing hard once you feel his focus shift to your left hand, turning it over so that the palm faces both of you. 

“My poor little pet.” He shakes his head, a sombre smile creeping across his face as he presses his thumbs into the muscles of your hand, roughly gliding across it in repeated motions. “What am I to do with you, hm?” 

You roll your eyes, a sliver of annoyance passing through as he clicks his tongue arrogantly. “Your sarcasm is unappreciated, you know.”

“So is the lack of regard towards your own health.”

Raising his brow at you, you realize then his concern is genuine. That, despite the chastising tone he offers, there are also a few inklings of sympathy laced throughout, showcasing themselves in the form of rough fingers that try to ease your pain. 

As much as you hate to admit it, you’re thankful for them. Thankful for him, as he works to soothe the residual pain that radiates up through your wrist, catching at your stiffened elbow.  

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can—”

“What? Do it yourself?” 

You go to respond but suddenly feel a stabbing pain in your lower back, making you wince. 

Gods, somehow it’s worse than you remember.

“Darling, as much as I love your unwavering resilience, I think it’s best I let you know that sometimes you tend to overdo it.” 

Normally, you’d be tempted to argue but right now all you can feel is the collective agony pooling throughout your bones. All the twitching and the aching —each section of discomfort working together to render you useless against his hands that begin to move to your other hand.

Once there, he moves to repeat the motions. Taking both of his thumbs and digging them into your flesh, he circles around each spot, gripping your fingers in place as you lean back in an attempt to alleviate your lower back.

“Does this even help or am I just rubbing your hand for no reason?”

You huff out a pained laugh, watching him break out into a grin. One that’s all teeth and tongue —cheeky looking. 

“I mean, it’s not not helping.”

“But it’s not the cure to your ailment, I assume.” 

You nod but make no effort to stop him as his fingers continue to move across your skin, applying enough pressure so that you can really feel the labour he so graciously offers you. 

“Is there something else you usually do, or?”

“Lay down and cry mostly. Wait for it to pass.” 

He snorts. “How awfully depressing.” 

You shrug your shoulders, watching as he performs a few more swipes with his thumbs, really getting in there for those final pushes before he releases your hand altogether, making you sigh. 

“We should probably get you back to camp then, hm?”

Suddenly, moving to stand, he continues to grin at you in a way that makes your chest tighten, watching as he offers his hand, wiggling his fingers impatiently. “C’mon now, darling, we don’t got all day. The sun will be setting and I’m sure the camp would appreciate you getting all that weeping over and done with before bed time.” 

You drop your jaw in false annoyance, offering your hand to him. “Wow, you’re really just going to throw my own misery back in my face like that, huh?” 

“Obviously.” 

Gently pulling, you feel that same painful shift in your spine that forces you to wince again, prompting Astarion to rush back down, filling with concern as he asks if you’re alright.

“Mhm, yup never better,” you say through gritted teeth, feeling his arm immediately snake around your waist, pulling you tightly against his hip. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“And you’re a bully who makes fun of ill people.” 

He huffs and gently drags you up to your feet as you groan in response, feeling the tightness of your back begin to loosen thanks to the new position. 

“Good?” 

Tentatively stepping forward, you let out a sigh of relief once you realize that it is. That, instead of your body completely inhibiting you as it so often does, this time it’s granted you enough reprieve to be able to walk on your own. To slowly step forward through the doorway, watching as Astarion hovers cautiously beside you, reaching out to grab your waist as you falter for a moment. 

“Please don’t overdo it. I’d hate to have to carry you all the way back.”

Gripping his shoulder, you offer him a smug look. “As if you could.”

His jaw clenches in response as he further wraps his arm around you, gently digging his fingers into your side. “Big talk coming from someone who can barely walk without the help of their dashing vampire friend.” 

You roll your eyes and look away, feeling his previously rough hand begin to soften against you, once again rubbing soft circles, this time along your side as you move through the doorway, thankful for your stupid, dashing vampire.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!