#its so hard finding a job here after the move

[fyeahnix]

Sometimes Sevika just really wants to eat you out.

[saw a nsfw piece of art (second image here by MadChaXXX on twitter) and immediately thought of sevika]

cw: femme!reader, oral sex

When Sevika guided you back against the kitchen counter without a word, you knew the desperation in her had breached containment. It was evident in the way she claimed your lips and tongue for herself, then kissed away any overstep in apology. She tasted like whiskey during a thunderstorm—yearning; like smoke from a fireplace—comforting.

She swallowed your moans when she hiked over the hills of your ribs. Stopped for a rest under the shade of your breasts. She diverted next, trailing a thumb up and down your sternum before the pad roamed over one nipple.

Your shirt lifted in the process and so did your chin, brushing her lips and strong nose in its ascent. As you rose, she fell. You reached your summit, greeting cool air with a wild shiver.

Sevika's breath lit a trail of flame down the column of your neck. Pull after pull, she nipped your exposed throat. Descended. Lowered. Found purchase between your breasts past your bunched shirt. A quick flick of her tongue, hot on cold, commanded your attention.

Finding words proved difficult when your brain curdled into mush. When Sevika drew out the consonants by mouth at your chest. It was all so sudden and hard to describe. The usual patient and teasing touch was absent, replaced with an eagerness that read neither fast nor slow. Not calculated, not deliberate. But...

Raw.

Feral.

Careful, even. Like if she kissed you too hard or kneaded you too roughly, you'd snap in half or beg her to stop. Instinct and chivalry blended into a fine concoction you'd seldom experienced before.

Sevika abandoned your chest with a parting kiss. Your shirt fell back into place.

You expected a return or even more exploration. You received neither and as you slowly lowered your chin, you understood why.

Sevika gazed at you. She rose, never breaking eye contact, and your belly fluttered at the deep-seated hunger in wolf-grey eyes blown wide. When she'd had her fill of you, her gaze drifted to your lips. Then eyes and lips and back again.

You gripped the countertop for support, bracing for what ended up being a gentle tease of her lips on yours.

And then she spoke:

"Can I taste you?"

You swallowed each word from her as if they were your last chance at sustenance on Runeterra.

"Had a dream about you this morning," she continued. You held her gaze but felt her hot fingers testing the waters. Right above the waistband of your pajama shorts. "Was lyin' down, your thighs on either side of my head. Perfect pussy ridin' my face. Said you wanted to reward me for workin' hard all day."

You clenched your thighs together.

"'Course you were long gone when I woke up. Had me in a mood all day. Couldn't stop thinkin' about it."

Sevika's job varied anywhere from beating the information out of goons to negotiating deals with potential buyers to standing guard for Silco. Offering to grace her face after a long day at work wasn't out of the ordinary. But her having a dream about you that was so prevalent that it stole her attention from work? You swelled with pride.

Sevika circled your belly button then dipped a half-inch into your shorts. "So?"

You batted your eyelashes up at her as you pushed your chest out. You considered making her wait longer if only to see how much that dream really affected her. Or if she'd beg for it. But you weren't like her.

In a subtle shift, you spread your thighs.

The corner of Sevika's mouth tweaked. She pressed her lips against yours then descended to her knees. Your shorts and underwear slid down your legs in unison with her.

She didn't waste a precious second. Immediately, her nose brushed your clit as her mouth nestled in the coarse hair guarding your entrance. She licked once from hole to clit, a ritual move that sent your head reeling backwards. No amount of grazing her scalp nor tugging at her loosened knot hastened her pace. She maintained her composure well.

Sevika inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. She lifted one leg to rest on her shoulder, and you braced yourself against the counter once more.

"Mmmph... Thank you," she whispered.

Sevika drove her tongue deep. Kissed you with enough fervor that had you rolling your cunt up and down her tongue. It was difficult not to peer down at her and her unbroken gaze. She wanted you to watch her, wanted you to witness her worshipping the most delicate and beautiful part of you.

Of course, you'd indulge her.

Just as she indulged you.

taglist: @gaudesstuff @archangeldyke-all @abitohoney @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @ash-fall7

[getoswhore]

when m twenty m retiring from writing ngl LKSDJFLKDJ

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[fabulouslygaybean]

im terrified to turn 18 next year but also i basically just confirmed with one of my best friends that we're gonna find an apartment together and be roommates so suddenly the future doesn't seem too horrible

[pears-trinkets]

.

[ceilidho]

prompt: construction worker ghost and his elementary school teacher neighbour who made the poor decision to start feeding him (nsfw, 2k) [based on this old ask] [on ao3 here]

-

They say not to feed wild animals. 

It makes them grow soft, lazy. Alters their behaviour. Takes an animal previously capable of finding its own food dependent on humans for sustenance. Makes them lose their natural fear of humans and nearly always results in an increase in human-wildlife conflicts as they start to seek out people. It’s a known fact. You can’t go to a park without seeing it plastered on posters in the bathroom and on the sides of the vending machines under the gazebos where you purchase your post-hike iced tea and veggie roll to eat on a nearby bench. 

You know this. So you really don’t know what possessed you to leave a cooler full of sandwiches on your neighbour’s doormat before turning in for the night. 

He wakes up preternaturally early and leaves every morning around four-thirty or five o’clock on the dot. Sometimes in the fog of sleep, you wake to hear the door to the apartment beside yours crack open and slam shut, and then the sound of lumbering footsteps down the hall towards the staircase before that door opens and slams shut too. 

He never comes home before four o’clock at the earliest. That’s around when you come home from work as well, meaning that you sometimes catch him at the door, him covered in grime and reeking of old sweat while you come flouncing down the hall in whatever colourful dress you’d donned that morning, inevitably paint-splattered by the end of the day. Always something appropriate to wear at an elementary school but colourful enough to keep the kids’ eyes and attention on you. 

You’ve caught his name in half-whispered conversations with the property manager, but aside from that, all you know about Simon Riley is that he works in construction. He certainly looks the part: big, calloused hands with blunt, dirt-caked nails and cut up fingers, knuckles always swollen and thick. Body all strength and brawn. Hard hat tucked under his armpit and decorated with countless stickers from old job sites, the same way his forearm is covered in tattoos. 

You’ve even passed by his current job site once or twice—some new condo complex going up by the canal that’s forced you and hundreds of other commuters to leave an extra thirty minutes early to account for the road closures. You pointedly don’t bring that up in conversation though. That would just be rude. 

At least it would be something to talk about though.

It’s not like the two of you talk. You’re not close by any means. Though you moved in a few months ago, you haven’t had much luck mustering up the confidence to squeak out more than a hi to him in passing. When he grunts back something approximating a hello, it’s all you can do not to break your key in the lock when you hurry into your apartment and slam the door shut behind you, heart beating frantically in your chest. 

It’s humiliating. You’re a grown woman and you’ve talked to plenty of men before. You’ve dated plenty of men before. Just because this one speaks in monosyllables and stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and your palms grow sweaty doesn’t change anything. Just because this one is built like a redwood with wrists thick enough that you’d need both hands to wrap around doesn’t make him any different than any other person.

And yet, when Simon asks you for your name on a rainy June afternoon after you’ve come in after him for a change only to find him sifting through letters at the mailbox, you garble out something that sounds nothing like your name before scurrying up the stairs to your flat.

It’s humiliating. It’s humid outside and your dress is sticking to all the wrong places (namely, your nipples and the inside of your thighs when the skirt swishes between your legs with each stride) and now you’ve made an ass of yourself in front of the only hot guy in your building. There are serial arsonists with more charm than you. 

So maybe the sandwiches are an apology letter or an olive branch. Or maybe it just makes your heart race to think of Simon opening up the cooler and finding four wax paper-wrapped sandwiches tucked neatly over ice packs. 

All you know is that when you step out of your apartment the next morning, the cooler is empty on your doormat, the lid propped open. He must have taken them with him. 

You smile. A job well done. Apology served fresh, with cucumber slices in the middle. 

The problem starts when you don’t leave him another cooler full of sandwiches on his doormat the next day. 

You didn’t consider that he might think you’d make it a habit. Perhaps that’s partially on you for not leaving a note on the cooler the first time to explain that it was just a one-off; just a way to apologize for being less than chipper around him. But instead of shrugging it off, you come home after a long day to find him standing right outside your apartment, arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps straining against his sweat-stained shirt. 

“Open the door,” Simon commands, nostrils flaring as he glares down at you. He jerks his head towards your door when you just frown, not following. “Been starving here waiting for you to show up.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re at a loss for words, never mind that your whole job involves talking. He leaves you speechless though. 

Simon doesn’t move when you step close enough to unlock the door. You try to keep your body angled away so as not to brush up against him, but it’s inevitable. He doesn’t move when the door opens either, forcing you to squeeze by him. 

He goes straight to the kitchen and drags a chair out, letting it scrape across the floor like men always do before taking a seat. You follow after him nervously, apprehensive at having a man in your space. Not just a man, but Simon Riley. It feels sacrilege—not like he has no right being in your space, but you can’t imagine him here, sitting at your tiny dining room table like he comes over for dinner every Sunday. 

When he catches you standing under the archway to the kitchen just staring at him, he barks, “Well?”

That has you scurrying over to the fridge to pull out the cold cuts and pickled red onions. There’s a loaf of bread already on the counter, the bag twisted and tucked underneath because you had to leave in a rush this morning. You don’t know half of what you pile on the sandwiches, but whatever you serve him must satisfy him because Simon digs in with gusto, finishing the plate off in only a few bites while you wash the cutlery in the sink. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole while.

He leaves not too long after that, only a light warning for you to not miss tomorrow’s lunch before heading back over to his own apartment. You don’t even get a word in edgewise. 

It becomes something of a routine after that and not one you have any control over. Every night before bed, you leave him a cooler full of sandwiches and other things like cut up fruit or slices of cheese on his doormat, and every afternoon you rock up to him waiting on your doorstep, demanding to be let in. 

He takes to giving you a wet kiss before he leaves, all tongue and his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. When you try to cover his mouth with your hand, he nips at your fingers until you move them and let him slip you some tongue. 

The day you make him a casserole for supper, he bends you over the back of your couch and eats you out. Simon eats like a man starving, glutting himself on the wetness between your legs, licking even over the furl of your asshole and chuckling under his breath when you squeal and flail, your toes just brushing against the floor. 

In the aftermath, you sit panting in his lap while he eats. He gets up only briefly to get the bowl of strawberries and cream you left chilling in the fridge before lifting you up and putting you right back in his lap. You stare bleary-eyed when he holds a finger covered in cream up to your lips.

“Clean me up, pet,” he says, then watches you with half-lidded eyes while you lick his finger clean. 

He makes you suck his fingers too, to keep things even. He does it when you’re angled half off the bed, thick digits stuffed down your throat until your eyes leak big, fat tears that he licks away, hungry for those too. The man is always hungry, always keen to fill his belly. 

The arrangement continues on long enough to become normal, even routine. Simon shows up at your door every day after work waiting to be fed, and then makes you come a couple times before he leaves, a little thank you to repay you for the food. He never really says all that much when he comes around, not a conversationalist of a man. His preference is to eat, fuck, and leave, which you’re happy to accommodate, still too tongue-tied yourself to broach a real conversation. 

That’s all before he starts helping himself to your bed for a quick nap after a big supper. Then for naps that turn into a full night’s sleep, snoring like a chainsaw under the covers with you tucked under his arm, naked breasts pressed against his side, keeping you awake most of the night until you pass out somewhere around one A.M. 

Just as you suspected, Simon gets up at around four or five to be at the jobsite on time, but at your place, he gets up a bit earlier to help himself to breakfast. He doesn't even bother waking you up, just turns you over onto your tummy and spreads your legs before sinking his dick into where you're still stretched out from the night before. If you wake up or squirm, he just leans down and murmurs, “S'alright, pet…just need a pick me up before work. Go back to sleep, you’re okay,” and ruts between your thighs until he comes inside you and leaves you all wet in bed with one last messy kiss to your temple. 

The door slams shut on his way out. 

Because you feed him, he keeps coming back. The workday passes in a blur: attendance, a spelling test, recess, maths in the afternoon, and then you’re driving home in the same daze that has you slamming on the brakes before rear ending an old woman who stopped two cars behind the truck at the redlight ahead. 

You’re home earlier than him for a change, so you unlock the door quickly while there’s still a chance to avoid him. No such luck. When Simon turns up, he pounds on the door until you let him in. And you do. 

It’s a wonder you haven’t come apart at the seams, horny and pent up after this morning. You were too sleepy to come after all, rode hard and put away wet. Still, you flit nervously around the apartment, looking everywhere but at him. 

He always smells rich after working all day in the sun, like sweat and dirt. It's not a particularly nice smell, but it still kind of gets you going. He goes for a shower and then collapses on the couch after, beckoning you over to you crawl into his lap and grind yourself on his thigh because he knows of course. Simon can probably smell it on you, the ache. He shushes you when you whine about it, big hands fitting around your hips and pressing you down until your clit rubs deliciously against the muscle of his thigh and your head goes cloudy, cheek mushed against the pillow of his chest. 

When you come, Simon tips your chin up with his knuckle and murmurs, “Knickers off, love. Haven’t got my fill.”

He feeds you your own slick from his fingers when he kneels on the floor in front of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders. Your fingers scratch helplessly over shorn blond hair, buzzed almost to the scalp. It’s prickly under your fingertips. 

Simon’s a messy eater. Your slick dribbles down his lips and glistens on his chin. It makes the blood roar under your skin, feverishly hot. 

“Please, Simon,” you whine, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It hurts.”

You feel his lips quirk up against the folds of your pussy, the flat of his tongue running up the seam and flicking over your clit. He chuckles when your hips jerk. “Greedy aren’t you, pet? Didn’t even say thank you for getting on my knees.”

“You didn’t make me come!”

His voice borders on mocking when he coos, “Poor little thing. It’s gonna be a lot longer ‘til she gets to come if you don’t say thank you.”

Your brain goes staticy, fingers twitching on his scalp. His words echo back in your head. It’s rubbish, is what it is. All this time and he’s never said thank you once for the countless meals you’ve fed him. Indignation bubbles up in you, rising to the surface like fat on the cream, and you raise a hand to rub the tears from your eyes, a harsh rebuke on the tip of your tongue.

The protest dies on your lips when he meets your gaze. It’s hungrier than anything you’ve ever seen. Whatever animal lives under his skin stares back at you with black eyes, drool leaking from its jowls. It’s mindless, intent only on slaking its hunger. Filling its empty belly. And it is not afraid of you anymore. It knows you’ll feed it until it’s full. It knows you won’t let it go hungry anymore. 

So, always leery of the bigger animal in the room, you mumble out a chest-thick, “Thank you,” and shiver when he grins. 

There’s a reason they tell you not to feed strays. They often come back for more.

[themainannoyance]

Nature Is Healing <3 (adding events to my Google Calendar again)

[kissitbttr]

a very tired miguel who gets home from work and gets babied by his woman

-

It's close to 9pm as you're lying on your bed. keeping your focus on the book you're reading, one that you failed to keep as a part of your routine due to your busy schedule with work. being a fashion designer has it's perks but it also has its dark sides too. especially when it comes to dealing with snobby ass clients

as you are about to flip to another page, you hear the front door opened. keys rattling against the ceramic bowl with a loud sigh follows after. a soft smile appears on your face soon as you realize who it is

“miguel? Is that you?” you softly call out your husband’s name while putting the book down.

"si, mi amor" he appears shortly by the doorway. your tall and handsome fiancee adorned in an unbuttoned white shirt that showcase a bit of his chest and paired with black trousers. a simple work attire but never fail to make your knees wobble. the sight could put any Greek Gods known to a man to shame.

your heart breaks a little seeing how tired he looks. his eye-bags are coming off too strong. a constant reminder on how he has been working himself far too hard despite you telling him to take it easy. but that's just how he is, stubborn.

"how's work my love?" you ask, watching him undress himself, revealing his exposed toned chest before putting the clothes away with the rest of his dirty ones in the bathroom. "I take it, it wasn't a good day?"

"you could say that" he replies tiredly, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off the chair and slipping it on. "trying to get ahold with the new recruits is a fucking job, Peter's been getting on my nerves and I'm working on advancing the technology we have right now in order for it to be easier to identify every single anomaly's DNA we've come across to. But the amount of hypotheses and research I've done are nowhere near close to how I want them to be."

"i would ask Tony Stark for help but que cabron esta muerto" he breathes out a sigh, pinching the thick skin between his brows. "I'm drained, mi amor... i can't fucking do this shit everytime--"

"no hey.. stop" you shake your head, hate having to see your man fronting a distressed look in his face. “come here, Miggy” you pout at him patting your chest for him to lay his head,

he sighs heavily. plopping into the bed and carefully lays himself on top of you. pounding head finding comfort in the warmth of your chest, snaking his big arms around your waist.

you put your arms around him, locking him tightly as your soft lips kiss his forehead making him purr.

“my pretty baby. exhausted aren't you? hm?” you ask in a cooing tone. he hums -- which sounded like a growl to you-- with a nod before nuzzling himself closer. “oh my poor poor baby... my handsome man. always working himself to the bone” another kiss on the forehead

“come up a little closer, hm?” you ask as he barely shifts his body. too lazy and far too comfortable in your arms like this for him to move.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, moving a piece that’s covering his forehead. looking down to see him close his eyes, yet not sleeping.

it’s so funny to see how this freakishly large- broad man who always seems to bring a cold presence that scares everyone off at work—which is technically true— then turns into a huge softie and a love puddle for you in a split seconds.

it’s truly a privilege that you’re the only one who gets to see and feel this

“look how cute you are, baby… do you know how cute you are, hm?” you coo at him, lips kissing his nose and the sharpness of his cheekbone. trying your best to console him in hopes of washing his stress away.

he lightly shakes his head. “no” a curt reply rolls of his mouth, drawing your body closer to him if that's even possible.

you pretend to gasp dramatically at his answer. fingers still stroking his hair lightly. “you don’t?! oh no! we have to fix that! you’re the cutest *kiss* most handsome *kiss* hardworking *kiss* man I’ve ever known” showering him with compliments in between kisses. he breathes out a small chuckle that muffles against your chest.

it’s obvious that miguel rarely gets treatments like this, he’s no one to shy from things but you're his only exception. the only person who truly can get him blush like a little kid when he's shown the slightest bit of affection.

“who’s baby are you hm? are you my baby?” a smile graces your lips as your eyes casting down to his pretty features.

“me. I’m your baby” he mumbles, tightening his grip around you. "always be your baby"

-

inspired by @webslingingslasher their frat!peter work yall is making me [REDACTED] please go take a look!!

[sixosix]

STAY, TOO | AETHER

desc you were afraid that aether would break your heart, but that all flew out the window the moment he got sick and demanded only you take care of him

notes wc 2.8k, FLUFF FLUFF bit of angst with reader’s mindset but happy ending i swear on my asia server genshin acc + this draft had been in my docs since 10/15/2023. its a miracle that i decided to pick up on it again and actually finish it !!!!!!! enjoy fellow aether kissers

Evenings were always eerily silent; because of that, your thoughts were loud. Not in the way that screamed—no, it was much worse. It was his voice that whispered, that made you shiver and reach out for something that never existed. 

You didn’t know if you were dreaming or if you were awake and letting your mind wander away to a familiar face. Your mind always ended up back to him, no matter how much you tried to stray away. No matter who you talked to, he haunted you. Who you kissed, his face flashed in your mind. You wanted to curse his name out—it was his fault you were like this. It was his fault for deciding to come into this world and rid yourself of your defenses, left helpless to his whims.

“Um, Y/N?” A hand moved to your shoulder.

You jumped out of your seat, heart racing as his grinning face dissipated from your mind. You turned and breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here, Sucrose?”

“It’s past midnight,” Sucrose murmured, her expression nervous, but apparently, she was too worried to leave you be. “I saw light from your window and thought you fell asleep…”

You didn’t even know if you were—everything before felt like a distant blur. Your eyes darted back to your desk, and then your face paled at the sight of a grinning face staring back at you. How long had you been mindlessly doodling Aether’s face? You quickly snatched them away from Sucrose’s view.

“I—I’m fine. Sorry, I did fall asleep.”

Sucrose’s bottom lip jutted out. “This has been happening for too long now. You’re not fine.”

What were you supposed to say to that? You were so hopelessly infatuated with someone who was ruining your life and possibly your job with Mr. Albedo. That would be a fast way to get yourself fired.

Sucrose sat on the chair beside you, her expression determined. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing that serious, Sucrose,” you stammered. Hopefully, the candles were dim enough to hide how flustered you were. It was more embarrassing than serious, really.

“Is it the Traveler?” She knew how to strike hard for someone with such an innocent face.

When had it not been the Traveler, honestly?

“Ugh…” That was a yes for her, apparently.

Sucrose smiled in relief. Her eyes darted around your face, studying you. “What’s wrong? Was he affecting you that much?”

“Yes. Disturbingly so. Like, seriously, it’s disturbing me.”

Sucrose’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “How?”

“It feels like swallowing a crystalfly whole and feeling it flutter around my stomach whenever I even think of him.”

Sucrose’s face turned serious. “What have you been doing to the crystalfies we’ve been collecting?”

“Never mind,” you muttered. “I’m fine, Sucrose. I promise, okay?”

You weren’t. Sucrose must’ve thought the same, too, because Lisa barged into your office the next day.

“What else are you expecting? For him to notice your wallowing and say something about it?”

Lisa’s sweet, melodious voice sounded torturous now when she was poking at all the things you were desperately trying to keep hidden. You sink against your seat, feeling a lot like a scolded kid, caught red-handed skipping chores—skipping responsibilities, hoping to stay oblivious for a bit longer.

“He already said something,” you grumbled, finding it difficult to meet the mage’s sharp eyes.

For someone who sounded as gentle as a mother to her only child, Lisa’s disappointment made you feel a lot more shameful than if she were to chide you in the middle of Mondstadt’s streets.

“A week after we met. He told me he likes me,” you continued.

Lisa’s jaw dropped, a funny expression you’ve never seen on her before. “A week after you met? Let me get this right—”

You groaned, “Lisa, trust me, I know—”

“—Our dear Traveler confessed to you ages ago. When was it when Aether helped us with Stormterror? He’s in Fontaine now!” Lisa looked a little frazzled, her eyes wild. You were expecting her to chide you some more until you saw how her entire expression was sparkling. This felt foreboding, somehow. “He keeps visiting to see you! After all these years of you foolishly rejecting him—”

“I didn’t reject him!”

Lisa hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, but isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

You were not rejecting Aether. You didn’t outright tell him you’re not interested because you are. He had been haunting your thoughts since you first laid eyes on him, returning from battle, cold breath billowing from his mouth, a pixie by his side, his hair aglow gold, Festering Desire in hand—and, oh, you desired him. It reached a point where Albedo himself had to ask if you wanted a check-up from how much you were burning with want.

Aether had grinned at you so brightly, and you damn near melted on the spot, even in the unrelentingly bitter weather of Dragonspine.

You found yourself liking him for more than his quite literally alien nature, his out-of-this-world body, and his abilities that had your hands itching to reach for a pen and paper to write down everything about him and figure out what the hell he was. Instead, you started falling for him as just Aether. His boyish smile, his witty jabs, his glimpses of personality.

And then he confessed to you—you, no one but one of Albedo’s assistants—and said he likes you, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at the time. You thought of him leaving one day, and then you just couldn’t say the yes that was chanting in your brain.

To no one’s surprise, he did leave. Not to that extent yet, but away from Mondsadt. Even in Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, and Fontaine, he invaded your thoughts as if cursing you for not saying what you were thinking. You could only wish he thought of you just as much as you did to him. Maybe he’d end up hating you, and not loving him would be easier.

“Are you kidding?” If it were so easy, you would’ve already jumped in his arms and kissed him breathlessly. “He’s—he’s not like us. He doesn’t belong here. He’d leave, eventually. Just like he always does with the other worlds.”

“Is that what’s stopping you?”

“That’s reason enough to be stopping me,” you said sharply. “He’s got millions of worlds to flirt with as he pleases, and this is my only one. Who knows if Aether is the type to even visit?”

Lisa crossed her arms. “Maybe you should ask. Communication is key.”

“Even if that was the case, I can’t handle it. I already miss him enough while he’s still in Teyvat—I don’t know how I could live with myself if I let him into my heart, and he’s a world away.”

“You’ve already let him in your heart,” Lisa said softly. “Just talk to him, alright? I’m not the only one worried about you when you drive yourself to a corner like this—especially over a boy!”

“I’m perfectly alright,” you said, ignoring Lisa’s amused smile. “I’m not losing my mind. Especially over a boy.”

You definitely were losing your mind. That boy was Aether; how could you not?

“I think it’s adorable,” Lisa cooed, cupping her cheeks and sighing dreamily. “He’s still waiting patiently. Who knew the Traveler would be so willing to wait for love?”

You wished that it wasn’t like that.

“Y/N! Are you here?”

Crap. Did you fall asleep in your office again? Might as well stop paying rent if this was going to be a recurring thing.

Once again, by routine at this point, you threw your notes that had Aether’s face inked by the edges. Memory be damned, You couldn’t let anyone see how detailed your drawings of Aether are.

“Y/N?” The voice rang out again, and it sounded more familiar now.

You went to open the door and frowned. “Lisa? It’s so early—did something happen?”

Lisa smiled in greeting, so beautifully devious with what she was about to say: “Our Honorary Knight is back in town!”

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” Were people just seeing you as one of Aether’s admirers?

“Of course not,” Lisa chuckled, patting your head. How did she look so good this early in the morning? “He’s sick and needs someone to look after him.”

You wanted to close the door. You wanted to crawl back to your desk and go to sleep, but she had that look in her eye—one that told you that you had something to do with where she was going. And you did not like where this was going.

“So?” Dammit. You really wanted to see Aether again.

“Why, who else better to take care than his dearest alchemist?”

“Albedo is everyone’s alchemist. Sucrose is everyone’s dearest alchemist.”

Lisa shushed you. Why was she so invested in this? “No, no, his. Not everyone’s.”

You felt your face burn at the thought of being his dearest alchemist. Or anything his. “Absolutely not! Wasn’t he in Fontaine just yesterday?”

“Why don’t you go ask him that yourself?”

You scowled. You weren’t agreeable in the mornings. “How did you even know about this?”

Lisa smirked, poking your nose. “Because he asked for you, specifically.”

You laughed dryly—good one.

“I won’t let you do anything you wouldn’t want,” Lisa said seriously, “but would you change your mind if I told you that it’s Aether that wants you?”

And so you ended up in Aether’s teapot, which was hanging around Jean’s office for safety. Jean only smiled knowingly when you knocked on the door and zipped straight to the teapot. You were only doing this on the off-chance that Lisa was telling the truth and that Aether demanded he didn’t want anyone else but you checking up on him.

His teapot was familiar. You had been here a few times, but you didn’t have your own room. That was too embarrassing to ask, no matter how much Aether suggested it.

“Y/N!” Aether lit up the moment you entered the room.

“Aether,” you greeted, and as much as you wanted to hide it, a smile bloomed on your lips. It was hard not to smile when Aether was looking at you like that.

He looked like a mess, with strands of hair spread all over his pillows. His blanket was only up to his hips, showing that he was out of his usual look, and wore a simple white shirt. You were grateful for that shirt; you didn’t want to end up helping Aether strip because he definitely would have suggested that.

“I’m sick,” Aether whined. “Tend to me.”

You would’ve doubted his fever, but it was worryingly hot when you reached out to check his forehead’s temperature.

Immediately, your suspicions fly out the window. Aether was burning, and you were the only one in the same room (teapot?) who should take care of him. The Honorary Knight was reduced to a fever.

You cupped his cheek and watched as Aether pressed his face closer. “Does your head hurt?”

“Yes.”

You tore your hand off. “I’ll make something to ease the pain.”

“You can ease it right now. By kissing it away.”

“Aether,” you sighed. Unbelievable. How did he still have enough energy for this while positively rotting on his bed? “Take this seriously. I haven’t seen you this sick— Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you sick. How did this even happen?”

“Stayed too long underwater,” he said.

Aether? Getting sick from swimming? You made a face, which Aether laughed softly at.

“No, seriously. It was an emergency commission. Even when I had to resurface, it was pouring. Someone was making the Hydro Dragon cry hard yesterday.” Aether’s face scrunched as he looked up at you with round eyes. “I was so cold.”

Although it sounded absurd that Aether would get a fever from that, you suppose that having to stay drenched for a long time would affect even someone like him. You couldn’t even imagine having to shiver your way back to Mondstadt after being thoroughly drenched the whole day.

You pulled the blanket further up Aether’s chest. Even if you suspected he was lying, he was trembling underneath the covers.

“Alright.” You’ll believe him because right now, it is a fact that Aether is undoubtedly sick.

You were well aware that he was and sounded like he was dying, but he looked cute, flushed, and staring at you expectantly. It felt nice to be needed by someone like him—made him feel less like a faraway dream.

You cleared your throat and looked away; you knew you looked flustered. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Why? Will you cook for me?” he asked.

You knew how to cook, but for someone who had traveled regions and tasted all kinds of foods, you would probably disappoint. Still, it wasn’t time for a competition with other chefs in Liyue or Fontaine. Aether needed food to fill his stomach.

“Any suggestions?” You hoped for nothing unfamiliar and crazy. You loved Aether, but having to fetch ingredients from oceans away was too much.

“Make it with love,” Aether said cheekily because he was a bastard who didn’t have any mercy on your heart.

And so you left the room and ignored Aether, laughing and coughing as he called after you. You had to leave either way—your chest was almost as warm as Aether’s forehead.

You decided to make a Radish Veggie Soup. You hoped Aether wasn’t too picky about his vegetables. The water was comfortably cold, enough to make you search around his cupboards for towels to soak it into. As you waited for the water to boil, you decided to check up on Aether again.

He was still lying there, but with his eyes closed now. You felt terrible seeing someone you witnessed defeat dragons battling a fever. You drew closer and placed the towel on his head. He didn’t flinch at the stark change of temperature, but he did react instantly, his warm hand clasping your wrist.

“Stay,” Aether rasped.

You bit your lip, your heart sinking. Was he dreaming about his sister? You always worried when he was feeling down because of their separation.

But then his eyes opened, and he stared right at you. “Y/N,” he said, “please stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Just this once.” Aether’s voice sounded so quiet, so unsure of himself.

You really couldn’t. You had a Radish Veggie Soup to attend to.

“I’m staying,” Aether said, and you had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the bed. “I’m staying here for you.”

You frowned. “Don’t lie to make me feel better right now. That would hurt more when you have to leave.”

Aether’s face softened impossibly. “I’m not lying. I’m telling you the truth—I’m not leaving Teyvat. Even if I find my sister, I’m staying.”

Seriously? Just like that? “What made you change your mind?”

You couldn’t tell if Aether was blushing or if it was his fever. “How could I leave Teyvat when I see how cute you look taking care of me?”

You threw a pillow to his face.

He swerved away and laughed brightly. “I’m joking! I’m joking—drop that pillow, please. I’m kidding. Well, sort of.”

His face was once again attempted to get assaulted by another pillow. Aether grinned as he blocked it off with an arm.

“For someone so sick, you seem awfully lively,” you said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You breathe life into me; what can I say?”

You groaned. You couldn’t deal with this today—you needed at least three business days to process this and find another reason to reject him. Yet, as you moved to get some fresh air (anything to get Aether’s stupid face out of your view), a hand abruptly reached for your wrist.

Aether’s face was close to yours in a blink of an eye. His breath was hot on your face. “I’m serious,” he said, “so if— if you feel the same way, the least you can do is stay, too.”

“I— You—” You gaped at him. That sounded like it could be a proposal. Who would’ve thought—the Outlander, the Traveler, begging for you to stay?

Aether’s gaze flicked to your lips.

“Don’t kiss me,” you said in warning. “Are you an idiot? You’re sick!”

“That’s fine. I get to take care of you when you do,” Aether said.

Your face paled. “No! I have a job, Aether—”

Aether frowned. “And I have a world to save, but that can wait. We’re busy.”

You pushed his face away, his laugh smothered by your palm. “No, we are not. I’m busy making food for your sorry ass, away from you.”

Aether’s face crumpled. “Do you actually not want to kiss?”

Not when he’s sick and snotty, yeah.

Instead, you leaned in to kiss his forehead to make up for it. It was brief and faint, but Aether looked satisfied, smiling softly when you pulled away. It would do for now.

“I’m staying,” you said. “So long as you do, too. I’ll stay with you.”

THE SOUP TURNED OUT OKAY STILL. this is just how my mom takes care of me when im sick LOL but the idea of doing it to a sick aether was too good i had to write a fic about it. also i love angst about aether being the traveler aaghgh

thank u sm for reading. as always, lmk what u think and i hope u liked it!! <3

[yukkisagi]

"i could treat her way better than you!"

in which some boy tries to confess to you, his girlfriend ft. alhaitham & wanderer (there's clear favoritism here) -fluff, not proofread

ALHAITHAM

no matter how many books this man has opened, he himself has always been a closed one. he never lets anyone know his true feelings or thoughts, so much so that people wonder if he even has them. he's cold, unsympathetic, withdrawn, any red flag adjective that is in the dictionary.

so how on earth is someone romantically linked to the acting grand sage? because of this, there are many onlookers who always want some sort of exclusive sneak peek into you guy's relationship.

some believe you've blackmailed him, others think alhaitham is conducting a psychological study on romance, you personally believe it's because no one else would be able to withstand his snarky remarks and he's aware of it.

these hypotheses are what leads you here, standing in front of one of your random classmates as he tries his best to hide his embarrassment behind his brazen grin.

"i would treat you right," he proudly announces, a crowd slowly starting to gather.

you can hear whispers surrounding you people are starting to stare down at the both of you from the upstairs railing.

"wow the acting grand sage isn't paying enough attention to her."

"he probably would be way more loving"

"honestly, would alhaitham even care?"

that last one couldn't possibly be the farthest from the truth.

alhaitham, even if he never admitted it, was stuck to you like those annoying tiny stickers that are just randomly on fruit. you just find him on you without even realizing it.

"let me take you on one date! that's it! and then you can decide if you want me or him!" the boy take your silence as invitation to continue his case. "i promise you'll have a fun time."

and before you can even answer him, kaveh and alhaitham finally enter the court, their bodies just barely peeking between the gaps of the crowd.

"heh, alhaitham, your girl is getting confessed to!" kaveh giggles while nudging the latter. "are you just gonna let him have her?"

suddenly the group opens space for the two of them, giving alhaitham more time to investigate his surroundings. his eyes meet yours first, the usual bore and tiredness greeting you. the whispers are now hushed as everyone anticipates his response, but he says absolutely nothing.

"look acting grand sage," the boy starts again, and you find it hard to not roll your eyes. "sure, you're great at your scribing and grand sage-ing, but a girlfriend isn't a job, its a duty that i definitely could fulfill better than you."

kaveh is now roaring with laughter, a stark contrast from alhaitham's unchanging face. you're now anticipating his response now, wondering if he would finally publicly claim you as his and only his or if he would just not entertain the conversation and leave you to deal with it, like always.

"look, just do whatever you want. i'd prefer to not waste my time and energy entertaining whatever this is." exactly what you anticipated, you can't help but smirk at your perfect prediction.

the silence was loud, almost overbearing as you watch some drop their jaws at his audacity. it even takes the boy aback, shocked that he would so easily give you away.

"alhaitham!" kaveh starts scolding, "what is wrong with you? are you crazy? do you eve-"

"i meant," alhaitham interrupts after clearing his throat. you can see the annoyance start settling in and patience running thin. "you can try, but i can easily conclude that your efforts will remain fruitless."

"excuse me?" the boy scoffs, a weak attempt at hiding his embarrassment.

"she would never fall for someone as inadequate and desperate as you."

after one more quick glance, flashing you just a glint of his mischievousness, he's off. cape and hair all dramatically swishing to follow his swift footsteps. your feet move before you can even think, instantly trying to catch up to his long strides as everyone watches your lovestruck eyes only follow him.

as everyone, including kaveh, watches you two disappear around the corner in shock, alhaitham can't help but roll his eyes as he feels you linking his arms with his. he knows damn well he would never let you leave and let someone else see that stupid little grin on your face.

he's arrogant, maybe a little more possessive then he let's on and extremely rude, but was he ever wrong?

WANDERER

scaramouche always loves a good a tussle, even if it was against your wishes. you've seen him physically fight off people twice his size, spit his venomous insults to anyone who would even try to whisper within his hemisphere, but never in your life did you think you would have to watch him bicker with a six year old and specifically, about you.

"y/n is princess and you're garbage!" the short boy exclaims as aggressively as his young voice could allow. "i'm making her my girlfriend!

"oh could you now?" your boyfriend scoffs back. "i'd like to see you try."

"watch me!" he scowls and scurries up to you. he pulls out flowers from behind his back and hands them to you as he announces, "i picked these for you because they are pretty just like you!"

"aw thank you!" you graciously accept the flowers, slightly smirking over at the older boy. "you know, scara has never picked me flowers before."

"ha!" the kid laughs at him, sticking his tongue out. "see? y/n is going to fall in love with me."

scaramouche is visibly upset now, watching you entertain the boy and poke his small unnecessarily adorable button nose. he knows your teasing him and it angers him more.

"well i'll have you know!" scaramouche crosses his arm across his chest, puffing in pride with his chin up refusing to look at the two of you. "y/n likes men who are taller then her."

"just wait for me y/n! i'm already half his height and im still growing, unlike that old man!"

"old? i'm not old! you're the one who's too young for her to begin with!" he looks down at the boy with a menacing glare.

"i'll be the same age as her soon!" the boy stands his ground, the boyish confidence radiating from him

"you don't even know her!" how could you possibly be in love with her!?"

"i do know her! she's a princess!"

you can tell your hot headed boyfriend was starting to run out of comebacks. it's hard to fight a kid's reason and logic and scara was already lacking in patience as is. as much as you love seeing the ever so cold and rude scaramouche all worked up and jealous, you kneel down to the younger one, finally ceasing all agruements.

"i'm sorry kid, i really appreciate the flowers, but you're going to be waiting eons for me." you pat his head, offering a gentle a smile. "don't worry, as long as you give them your hand picked flowers, i promise any girl will fall for you."

"and if you fall girls that don't already have a boyfriend," scara annoyingly butts in.

once the boy leaves, not before exchanging tongue spits at scaremouche one more time, you feel two arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"do you actually like handpicked flowers?" he mumbles into your shoulder, his warm ears just barely brushing against your neck

"yea" you hummed, picking at the sweet petals as you try to suppress your giggles for his sake. "only if they're from this slightly taller, much more angry dude who wears a hat twice his size."

[lis-likes-fics]

The Dragon's Wife

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x bride!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Breeding Warnings: NSFW, noncon, dark content, fingering, p in v, slight cum eating, first time, humiliation, crying kink, biting, multiple force orgasms, forced breeding, creampie, A/N: Happy Kinktober, everyone! I think this may be the darkest thing I've ever written, in terms of this is my first noncon. If you catch any warning I missed, please let me know. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this and the rest of my prompts for kinktober! Find the main masterlist here. Also A/N: I had to respost this shit twice but Tumblr fucking sucks and is hiding it. I hate this website sometimes... Enjoy!

The large doors of Daemon's bed chambers shut behind you with a damning thud. Still wrapped in your wedding gown, the events of the night were still very fresh in your mind.

You were angry, outraged by the dishonor done upon you. Like some broodmare, your father gave you away to the Targaryen prince in need of a new wife after the last had passed "suspiciously".

It was humiliating, to say the least. You had produced no heirs for your house and "talked too much for your own good". Your father jumped at the chance to have this brute of a prince tame you. Perhaps you would be a "respectable lady".

But you would give neither of them the satisfaction.

"Are you going to stand there and stare at the door all night?" Daemon's voice spoke behind you, exhausted by you already.

You sighed. "Better than looking at you, dear husband."

You could hear his footsteps against the hard floors as he stepped closer to you. "Someone ought to teach you some respect."

You turned to face him so he could see the way you rolled your eyes. "Apparently, that's meant to be your job…seeing that I am now wed to you."

He gave you a hard look, his gaze dark and dangerous as his eyes rake up and down your body. A long silence filled the space between you as you stared one another down.

"Come here," he commanded, his tone stern but his voice quiet. yet

"No."

He tilted his head and a wicked smile took over his face. Amusement lit up within his eyes as a new goal took over him. He took a couple more steps toward you, stalking closer like some predator to its prey as he sized you up.

"Perhaps I will teach you some respect."

A chill ran down your spine, but you refused to stand down as you glared at him. He stood before you, raising a hand to touch your cheek. You smacked it away. "Don't touch me."

He breathed a laugh, looking you up and down. You moved to take a step back, to put more space between the two of you as an unsettling feeling settled into your skin.

But before you could lift your foot, his hand was wrapping firmly around your throat and pulling you close to him. You gasped out of shock, bringing your hands up to his own to pry it off of you as you stared wide-eyed at him.

"Such strong will you've got," he said, sighing deeply. "I wonder how easy it would be to break it." Your breath was shallow as you clenched your jaw. He hummed, moving his hand up in a harsh trail to your jaw, where his thumb and fingers dug into your flesh and made you hiss from the pain. "Your job is to produce my heirs, little cat, nothing more. You will do as I say."

You huffed. "I am not a whore."

"No," he said. "But you are my wife now…and you will breed if I say you will."

"I will not."

He laughed, a loud one deep in his chest as he pulled you closer by your neck. You were trembling in his grasp, the stubbornness turning to fear as his eyes trailed your face and stopped at your lips.

"You don't have a choice."

He shoved you away, and you stumbled to the ground. You stood quickly, trying to put more distance between you. But you had nowhere to go. You watched as he slowly advanced.

He backed you against the large table in his chambers, the wood digging uncomfortably into your back. He trapped you, grabbing roughly at your waist and regarding you with a primal grin.

"Wait," you begged, leaning back as you grabbed the table for support. "Wait, please. I'm sorry." He pulled back slightly, looking over you as he took in this new sense of fright. You swallowed thickly, staring at him as you trembled, tears pricking at your eyes and threatening to spill. You sighed shakily. "Please don't."

You received no sympathy as a wolfish grin took his face. "Look at you," he teased, laughing again as his hand found your neck again. "Not as strong as I thought then."

His lips crashed down upon yours, a bruising kiss that had lips mashing with teeth, breaking skin and filling your mouth with the taste of blood. You tried to push him away, grabbing at his arms and peeling them off you only for him to grab you again in a rougher grip than before.

You whined against his lips, still trying and failing to push him away from you. He lifted your chin, his hot breath enveloping your neck as he bared his teeth, burying them in your throat and making you yelp.

You grabbed at his hand uselessly. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made your blood pump furiously beneath your skin. Desperate to remove him from you, you managed to shove him away with your foot. He stumbled backwards. You took no time to catch your breath as you turned to run. You didn't know where you were going, but you ran.

Daemon watched with an amused smirk, wiping his mouth and advancing toward you again. You hardly got far before his hand was hooking around your neck and pulling you right back against him, your back flush against his front as his hot mouth and breath lingered at your ear.

"I stand corrected," he purred, biting your earlobe.

You shuddered under his grasp. "Please," he watched a tear slip down your cheek. "Don't hurt me."

"Oh," he breathed, pressing his lips against the crook of your shoulder and savoring the way you closed your eyes and whined. "Where's the fun in that?"

He held your body against his own with a tight grasp around you, his arms wrapped around your body and over your arms as his hands roamed your figure hungrily.

It all happened so fast. And he was so uninterested before, you admit, you had become a little cocky with your words the more comfortable you became with your detest for him. You never expected anything like this to happen—although you probably should have.

His hands found the neckline of your dress, and with a monstrous tear, he ripped it down the middle until it pooled in rags around you. He removed each layer from you like some beast tearing the flesh from a quivering animal with its sharpened tooth.

And when you were bare, another rush of adrenaline filled your veins and built another fight in you, a fire that would soon be overcome by a larger, more furious one.

"Daemon, stop!" you shouted in false bravado, kicking your feet to get him away, only to feed his hunger for this enticing hunt you created.

His large hand groped your breast, and you clenched your eyes shut at the sensation of it. You were trapped, and you couldn't do anything about it as he walked you to the table and shoved you to lay on it. Your cheek pressed against the wood, and you could almost swear you felt splinters poking at your skin. But the wood was so smooth, you could have been imagining it.

He bent down, confining you once more as his lips and tongue and teeth clashed with the skin of the back of your neck, your shoulder, your back. He licked and sucked and bit until you were sure you'd be covered in bruises, the marks of his claim coloring your skin red and purple by morning.

"You taste magnificent, little cat," he purred before biting your earlobe once more. A cold tear ran down your cheek as you shuddered, and a dark chuckle slipped from his chest. "Such beautiful tears you've got. Like crystals."

You yelped as his hand smacked down on your ass, gripping the flesh immediately after in a vice grip that burned.

Your whole body jerked when you felt his fingers press between your thighs to feel your cunt, baring your teeth and biting back another whimper. "Oh, that's no good," he remorsed, acknowledging the lack of slickness between your thighs as his crude fingers continued to feel you. "We'll just have to fix that. You do not want to take this dry, I'll tell you that. Especially not when you're this tight. You've needed a good fucking, haven't you, little cat?"

You could hear the smirk on his voice, and it made your skin prickle, a chill running down your spine that soured and turned to fire in your belly when he shoved two fingers inside of you. You clenched around him and tried to hide your face away on the table.

"Daemon, please," you begged. "Please, please, please."

He thrust them deeper, exploring more of you as he listened to your stifled moans and cries. "I know, little thing. You don't want my fingers inside of you… you want my cock, don't you?"

You shivered as another cry shook you at that. He continued, "You do. I can see it. You want my hard cock inside of you, you need it." He shoved his fingers in deeper, adding a third that curled harshly inside you and allowed waves of arousal to coat his fingers. "You need my thick cock in your tight little cunt to fill you with my dragonborn sons and daughters."

He kept thrusting, his pace picking up faster and harder as he set a cruel rhythm. You couldn't help clenching around him, opposing the invasion as the searing pleasure tore through your body.

"You were so confident," he said, his voice suddenly right next to your ear, "until I got my hands on you. You were just begging for someone to put you in your place."

You gripped the edge of the table, wanting nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear, let the Stranger take you away from this cruel world and deliver you to sleep.

"Look at you," he snickered, pulling his hand from you with a sickening squelch. "Wetting my hands like a common whore. Perhaps you needed this more than I realized."

Your legs trembled, and you wrapped your arms around your head to cover your face, to hide away from him. You startled when you felt his hand reach out and comb through your hair, starting from the beginning of your scalp and working his way back until he suddenly gripped a handful of your hair at the base and pulled. He made you look at him, you closed your eyes and whimpered at the pain.

"Open your eyes," he said calmly, staring at your face as you refused. His grip in your hair tightened as his voice lowered to a dangerous register as he nearly growled. "Open your eyes, little cat."

You followed his orders, afraid of the consequences otherwise. He watched another tear join the rest of them streaked along your cheeks, your eyes wet and pathetic as he fed off your misery. "Well, you needn't worry," he whispered, faux sympathy poisoning his tone. "I'll fuck you like you need to be fucked."

He yanked at your hair again, pulling you up to stand and ignoring the way you cried at the pain. He led you to the bed, letting you go with a small shove so you stood in front of it. He gestured to the bed. "On your knees."

You stood frozen, covering your body as you hung your head. You were shaking. He didn't care.

"On your knees."

You bit your trembling lip, moving slowly as you set your knee on the edge of the bed and slowly moving forward until you were sitting as he told you: on your knees, humiliated and cold.

He pressed his hand to your back, and the rest of his body followed to hold you as he harshly kissed the back of your shoulder again, more teeth than lips. Then he pushed you forward so you held yourself on your hands.

"Look at you," he remarked again, another chuckle echoing in his chest. "I shall make a bride of you yet."

You listened to him strip, taking his sweet time to remove every piece of clothing he had from his body and let it drop to the floor like sacks. You waited, hating the suspense. And you flinched when his hand found your dripping cunt, slipping through your lips and leaving just as quick.

There was a quite suckling sound, and then he spoke again. "Mm, you should taste yourself. Such sweet nectar."

His fingers prodded at your lips, you sealed them closed as you tried to move your face away, but he wasn't having it. He smeared your slickness all over your lips and down your chin and cupped your jaw with his cruel fingers. "Taste it."

You let out a choked sob as you slowly opened your mouth. His fingers invaded your mouth the same way they did your pussy, thrusting harshly in and out between your lips as you tasted yourself on them. You breathed heavily around his fingers as he pushed down on your tongue, spread them apart to make your tongue lick between them, adamant on making you lick every drop of your arousal off of his hand.

He finally removed his hand, and you could breathe again as you hung your head and gasped. You felt your blood run cold at the sound of wet skin on skin, a steady shlick making you clench, rejecting what you knew was coming, what you knew you couldn't fight.

You expected him to say something, to whisper in your ear to make you shiver, to taunt you as he fed off your humiliation and loathing.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one deep thrust. It was much worse than if he had warned you beforehand. You'd found safety in his predictability, his need to tease you gave warning to what he intended to do when he intended to do it. He'd taken even that from you.

He groaned as he settled deeply within you. "Ondoso se gods…" he muttered under his breath, taking your hips and pulling you back as he ground inside of you. "Now I know why you were so eager," he breathed. "This is a virgin's cunt."

You gripped the sheets of the bed and clenched, wanting to force him out but unable to. He was bigger than you, faster than you, stronger than you. He was carved by war, bled and seasoned by it. If you thought there was a chance you won this fight, you were dumber than he thought.

He pulled out of you, an agonizingly slow drag that emptied you out until he suddenly thrust back in with a harsh thrust. The pleasure burned. As his patience began to wear thin, he was rid of all his slow, tempered thrust and resolved to piston inside of you like a hungry beast.

His hips snapped into your ass with every thrust, in and out was his fast rhythm that split you apart on his cock. You gripped the sheets and squeezed his cock and cried as the ecstasy of his intrusion tore you apart.

You whimpered and moaned, unable to help the way your sobs left you as he grunted and groaned about how good he must be making you feel.

His hand snaked around your waist and between your thighs to find your clit, and he pressed down harshly as he moved to make you cum. The pleasure spasmed when he touched you and you hated it.

His relentless thrusts ached as he built you up. When you came, your whole body shattered and you cried out, your arms giving out as you fell forward into the bed and muffled your sob. Your thighs shook and it took far too long for the shocks of pleasure to simmer. You hated yourself for letting it feel so good.

A hand cracked down on your ass once more as he pulled you close again by the waist. "You fucking loved that, I could tell," he breathed. "You clenched around me so tight. Even now your cunt is sucking me in."

You pulled weakly at the bedsheets. "Daemon, please…"

"So sweet… begging for me like some cock-drunk whore," he smiled. "Oh, my little cat… I'm going to fuck my cum so deep inside of you, you'll feel me dripping out of you for days."

He pulled out of you, and you let out a breath. In the same breath, he flipped you onto your back and spread your legs wide with his calloused hands. You fought to close them, but to no avail—not to your surprise.

He spread you open and sunk into you once more, grasping your jaw with his hand shaped into claws as he made you look at him. He thrust into you, deep and fast, his breath almost like a groan in his chest. "Look at me," he ordered. You obeyed, albeit hesitantly, on the first command.

"Such obedience," he praised. "You love it when I fuck you like this? When I force open your legs and take what is mine?" You wanted to shake your head and throw your hands and shove him off, but you were trapped and already broken in enough. His free hand grabbed at your thigh and clawed into your flesh, tearing you apart like he was doing to you now.

"Of course, you do. I know you do," he continued. His hips continued to snap into yours, shoving deeper and rougher into you in a way that made it hard to contain moans that came from the sick pleasure curling within you, burning in your belly and fueling the tears in your eyes. But you were quieter than before, your sobs realizing they were getting you nowhere and accepting that this would be your life now. You could do nothing but lay there and take it as he fucked you, taking his pleasure from you like he would the spoils of war.

And he lasted too long. He held you down and kissed and bit and sucked and clawed at your flesh. He taunted and teased you, made you cum at least twice more with his insistent fingers as the pleasure seared in your belly like a corrosive flame ruining you from the inside out. You winced and whimpered and could do no more.

You didn't know how long you were there. It felt like forever, his relentless thrusts becoming numb to your sore body as you let him use you.

He sat up, pulling you into his lap as he fucked you in a newer, deeper angle. "I'm going to breed you now," he smirked, his strong hands keeping you close as he impaled you on his cock with a new determination. His white hair had fallen messily in his eyes by now, his lips pink and his eyes blown wide with lust.

"Would you like that? Would you like me to plant my seed in your quivering little cunt and make you an heir?" You stared up at him, your eyes tired as you watched him taunt you. Apparently, the question had not been rhetorical as his hand grips your jaw again and sets your head straight. "Answer me, little cat."

A war went off in your mind. If you said no, he'd likely to subject you to more horror, drag out the moment longer than he needed just to make you endure this torture a little while longer. If you came again, the shame would be so thick and so deep, you likely would not survive it.

But if you agreed to him, you would be admitting defeat. You would officially be his little plaything for him to use whenever he felt a little too pent up one moment or bored the next.

But another moment of this would bring more emotional turmoil than you have the heart for right now…

"Well?" he wondered, grinding his hips deep within you as he continued to claw your face, barely holding on enough as his head bowed with his thrusts. You whispered, but he just tilted his head to listen closer to your barely audible voice. "What?"

"Yes…" you whispered.

"Yes, what? What would you like, little cat?" he smiled wide, triumphant in his ability to break you so easily.

You swallowed thickly, your saliva like syrup at the embarrassment. "Yes, Prince Daemon… I want," a new, tiny sob choked out of you as the words stuck in your throat, "I want you to…to breed me."

The pride shone in his gaze like the sun, harsh and bright. "That's a very good girl, you are. I'm so very proud of you," he said as he kissed you roughly again. His hips began to snap harder into your once more, and you felt the unsteadiness of the rhythm, the desperation of the chase for his release hot in your belly.

And when he came, he pulled you down by his hips and pushed so deeply inside of you, it hurt. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, reaching his peak with a roar as he spilled his hot, fiery cum inside of your cunt and fucked it in to stay. You mewled and grabbed uncomfortably at his arms as you lay through the whole ordeal, hating his grabby hands and his thick, pulsing cock and his depraved sounds above you. The warmth filled you like tar.

He cursed under his breath in a language foreign to you. After grinding his hips for longer than he needed, he finally pulled out of you and put an end to your misery. You sighed in relief, laying back as he sat up and removed his heavy weight from your body.

He stared down at you, completely flustered and spent but well enough to tease some more. "Look at you," he shook his head. "Pathetic whore hungry for my cock."

You didn't look at him, turning your head to the side and laying there as he kept your legs open with his body between yours. He chuckled deep in his throat and smacked your side, earning little more than a near silent yelp.

You flinched when his hand found your cunt again, this time filled and smeared with both your cum and his. His long middle finger shoved inside of you and then back inside. With no warning, he placed his hand at your mouth. Another fight kicked through your veins, though noticeably less fueled than the last.

"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Open your mouth and see how well we taste together, little cat. If you don't, I have other things I can do with that little mouth of yours."

His threat was clear as day as you obeyed. Cracking your mouth open, he smeared your mixed release over your lips again and finally delved into your mouth to make you lick every single drop from his fingers. It was salty and sweet, and you hated it.

"Such a good, pathetic little girl, you are." He pulled his fingers from your mouth and sighed longingly. "Was that so hard?"

He shoved you off his lap, discarding you like trash as he stood to tidy himself once more. And once he finished, he blew out the remaining candles in the room and spared you not a single glance and not a single word more. He rolled over on the bed beside you and eased himself to sleep.

You lay there, staring at the sealing as the soreness in your limbs spread deeper and deeper until it reached your very soul. A heaviness took you, weighed down your heart until you were naught but a body on a bed next to a dark prince. A numbness ate away at your toes, at your fingertips, until the even numbness disappeared and was replaced by a terrible grief when the thoughts of the night flashed behind your eyes like a terrible dream.

And you began to sob. Softly, as not to wake Daemon and invoke him into another frenzy, you cried and hated the way it did not cleanse your soul. You belonged to him, his little wife, his little cat to prey on. You were just a dragon's whore now. Nothing more, nothing less.

Tag yourself here or send me a message!

[ozarkthedog]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃

summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.

pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k

author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.

huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours. 

Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.

What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. 

When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help. 

It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits. 

Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.

An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet. 

His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.

He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss. 

“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked. 

His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed. 

The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.” 

The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.

Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.

You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.

He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.

You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.” 

Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”

You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.  

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”

Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.   

He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.

A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer. 

“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.

“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.

He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”

You were truly and utterly fucked. 

It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.

You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.

Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh. 

“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.” 

“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.”  He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled. 

Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.

Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.

You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.   

“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.

Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”

You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands. 

You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.

You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.

You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.

You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.

“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."

The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.

“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”

You wanted to scream. 

“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.

“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"

It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground. 

“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”

You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.

“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.

You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.

“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.

Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”

“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.

“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.

You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”

“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.

His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.

Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.

“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.

Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”

You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men. 

“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.

You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.

“For fucks sake,” the older man groans. 

Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone. 

Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”

The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.  

 “But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”

The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.

Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.” 

His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too. 

Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."

In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room. 

“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt. 

“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”

Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.

You forgot about the other man in the room. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out. 

He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.

Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue. 

His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.  

Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you. 

You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”

Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive. 

Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.

You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.

Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face. 

Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously. 

When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit. 

Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.

You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.

Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.

It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.

A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips. 

Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure. 

"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.

Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you. 

Both men curse at the sight and feel of you. 

It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.

“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.

Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours. 

You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.” 

You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.

They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey. 

Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath. 

“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.” 

Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure. 

He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core. 

You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.

“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.

"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.

"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain. 

Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.

You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.

He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton. 

"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.

"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete." 

You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.

He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"

The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.

“Yes,” you rasp, defeated. 

He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back." 

You nod quickly under his grave stare. 

He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you. 

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl." 

He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.

You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.

Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

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[foreingersgod]

omg I saw you wrote for pb and I was wondering your take on her comforting a reader who struggles with mental health or anxiety? Tysmia && I love your work !! ❤️🤗

for any of you struggling out there, i’m here with you! if you ever need, my inbox is always open :)

Anxious . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you’ve struggled with anxiety your entire life, but you never told anyone, including paige. during one of your bad anxiety attacks, she finally finds out.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

since you were young, about starting middle school, anxiety controlled the entirety of your life. every decision, every breathe, every moment, anxiety was driving you. it was so suffocating that you fell behind the other kids. you didn’t play sports or join clubs, nor did you hang out with friends because you feared the worst. those voices in your head, that twisted feeling in your gut made life almost unlivable.

when you graduated high school and moved away for college, the anxiety lessened. you think in some ways college helped you find yourself and for a little bit, you were living freely.

in that time, you met your girlfriend paige. you had met her through one of your mutual friends at her birthday party. paige had spotted you from across the room, completely captivated by you. you were beautiful, had the most adorable laugh, and had the most unique style she had seen. she couldn’t help but ask for your number.

the rest was history. you and paige hit it off immediately and became inseparable. when you were with paige, you felt amazing. anxiety was the last thing on your mind. talking to people became easier, leaving your house was no longer scary, life was good. your days of anxiety and panic attacks were well behind you.

but about a year into your relationship, things started to fall apart again. that particular year, you were facing a lot of hardships and it was hard to manage it all. your mother was rushed to the hospital for a minor respiratory problem, she was recovering well, but the financial burden fell to you. school was beginning to pile up as well, it felt like you were drowning in school work. things at your job had been getting worse too, you were understaffed (and underpaid) and practically running the whole place. and on top of that, it was paige’s last year at uconn and she was so stressed about the upcoming season, and you were finding it hard to balance being her support system and the rest of your life.

it was hard.

when things started to go down hill, you felt that familiar feeling creep its way back into your mind. you found that your heart was pounding more and more when you left your cozy apartment, that your thoughts weren’t your own, and that you were always worried about the future. you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function properly at all. but you stayed optimistic, thinking that this would run its course. because you were getting better, right?

you kept all of this from paige. you were worried that she would worry and you didn’t want to make things worse. after all, you had never even told paige about your struggles with anxiety and mental health in the past and you wanted to keep it that way.

on one saturday night in june, one of paige’s teammates hosted a small get together at a quaint little restaurant with the team and their partners. everyone was stoked to see one another and catch up. normally, you would have loved this sort of thing. you used to love those types of settings, but now you were struggling to act excited about it. when paige had told you about the invite, you immediately became apprehensive.

“you excited?” she asked, telling you the details of the event “it’ll be fun”

“stoked” you managed to croak out.

when 6:00 pm rolled around, you were dressed and ready to go. paige was downstairs, keys in hand, awaiting your arrival, but you remained in the bathroom. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to talk yourself down from a panic attack.

you can do this, YN, it’s gonna be ok you told yourself.

“YN!” you heard paige holler from the bottom of the stairs “we’re gonna be late, babe! are you ready?”

touching up your hair and fanning the tears out of your eyes, you rushed out of the bathroom. paige greeted you by the front door with a kiss, hands finding the small of your back and leading you out to her car.

the drive was dreadful. all you could think about was going home, thinking that something was going to go wrong and ruin your night. it had you discretely biting your nails as you looked out the car window. paige, oblivious to your agitated state, was telling you about the restaurant the get together was held at and how she was exited for you to try it. you nodded along, trying to keep yourself distracted.

after a painfully long drive to your destination, you were being escorted to the table where your party sat. you were met with toothy smiles and cheerful greetings from paige’s teammates as you arrived. paige pulled out your chair for you and sat down next to you while conversing with a few of the girls.

you were doing fine at first, only sparking up conversation with a few girls to keep your anxiety at bay. you were managing. even when the waiters began taking orders, you got through it no problem. laughter filled your small corner of the restaurant as everyone joked and talked with each other, there was absolutely nothing to be worried about.

20 minutes passed, discussion was still alive and you were getting through the night like a champ.

until the food was brought out.

the second that plate was sat in front of you, you felt the pace of your heart pick up. you didn’t know what was going on, but for some reason, the thought of eating your food in front of all of these people set you off. you hadn’t had a history of this, normally you didn’t mind eating in public. you assumed it must of been the stress of keeping food down. you stared at the steaming meal in front of you like it was some sort of extraneous creature. just the thought of lifting up the fork had you spiraling about every possible thing that could go wrong.

what if you threw up?

what if the food was raw?

what if everyone saw the way that you were eating? they’ll probably think you look funny.

your eyes welled up at the thought of it all, your head hung low to hide your dampened mood. your legs were bouncing uncontrollably to try and balance your nerves, body practically shaking from fear.

as you attempted to reserve yourself, praying no one would notice. you felt paige’s hand rest itself onto your knee, gripping it gently to halt your bouncing. she tapped the inside of your thigh, leaning in and whispering into your ear.

“hey, what’s the matter baby?” she muttered just enough for you to hear “you’re shaking”

you bit your lip harshly. fuck

you shook your head. it was all you could muster, couldn’t find the ability in your throat to produce any words. the urge to cry out for help gnawed at your chest.

before paige could question any further, you abruptly stood out of you chair. the wooden legs scraping against the black and white tile of the floor. as your back turned, rushing to the bathroom for any sort of isolation, you felt eyes burning in the back of your head. you heard paige call out for you faintly, but it was no use, you couldn’t sit at that table a moment longer.

the bathroom felt miles away as scurried past other tables. tears were streaming down your cheeks, most definitely taking your mascara with it. finally reaching the single occupant bathroom, you shut the door and locked it behind you. you were careless of the germs as you sunk to the bathroom floor in despair. knees hugged close to your chest and head buried into your arms. sobs racked your body and trepidation coursed through your veins. you were losing control of yourself.

out of the blue a knock sounded at the bathroom door. assuming it was another diner of the restaurant, you ignored it hoping they would move along. then you heard her.

“YN, are you in there? are you ok, what the hell is going on?” paige’s voice rang through the door.

“i’m fine” you hiccuped “i’ll be out in a second, i just need to pee is all”

“don’t lie to me” she said “you were shaking and sobbing when you left the table, the hell you just have to pee”

you continued to cry, loud enough for paige to hear.

“baby, please, what can i do? what’s going on, i want to help” she pleaded.

past all the pain your mind was putting you through, you yearned for paige. she made you feel so safe, the whole reason you were able to battle your anxiety in the first place. you didn’t want to rope her into this, but it was far past keeping it a secret now.

with hands still trembling, you unlocked the door and let her in. without wasting a second, she was at your side, locking the door behind her. her arms wrapped around you protectively, rubbing your back to comfort you as you fell to the floor again. she sat with you as you crawled into her. your head tucked into her chest as you cried, tears soaking into her shirt, fingers clinging to the fabric. paige tried to move the hair out of your face to get a better look at you.

“you’re scaring me, YN” a worried expression washed across her face “what can i do? who do i have to fight, huh?”

she tried to cheer you up, accepting defeat once you cried harder.

“i-i don’t-” you were struggling to speak still “i don’t even know where to start paige!”

she pulled you closer to her chest “just try baby, take your time. i’m right here with you, we’ve got all the time in the world ok. just get it all out, you’re safe”

and that was all it took for you to completely break down if front of your girlfriend. every detail from the last few days, from your past, everything about your anxiety came spilling out.

“before i met you, i had chronic anxiety. like so bad i could barely leave the house. then i moved away for school and it got better, and when i met you it pretty much went away. but you know with my mom? and school and work and now you’re in your last season with your team? it’s just been getting to me and the anxiety has started to get worse again. i can’t eat or sleep right and i feel like i’ve been losing my fucking mind, paige”

she was such an amazing listener, sitting there on the dirty bathroom floor as her girlfriend bawled into her shoulder. the whole time her eyes were glued to you, gentle fingers carefully wiping your tears away.

“why didn’t you tell me all of this? tell me about the eating and the sleeping? YN, it makes me sick imagining you going through all this alone”

“because i didn’t want you to worry and i was too embarrassed to say anything”

“well i’m worried now” she said “and embarrassed? baby…”

“i know, it’s silly, but i was just scared you’d think of me less if you knew what a mess i am when i get anxiety like this”

“i could never think less of you. ever. please know that”

“but i-”

“no, listen” she interrupted “just because you struggle with your mental health or have a hard time dealing with your anxiety doesn’t mean i’ll think anything less of you. you’re my whole world. this life and in the next, you’re my entire soul. i want nothing more than to be here for you and to help you overcome things like this. if anything, it only proves to me how strong you are and how i’m so lucky to have a girl who’s able to get through all this”

you sniffled, tears stopping as she continued “i love you, more than you know. and i’m sorry you felt like you needed to do this on your own”

you really had the best girlfriend out there. someone who loves you even through your own insecurities.

“i love you so much” you kissed her with your lips salty from the tears “thank you for being here, i don’t know what i’d do without you”

“get through all this just the same because that’s how strong you are. i’m just here to help in anyway you need” paige leaned in for another kiss, this time deeper, strong hands cradling your jaw “how about i go tell the team you’re not feeling well and we’ll go back home, eat some ice cream and watch anything you want?”

you nodded, wiping your cheeks with the back of your palm “even new girl?”

“yea baby, even new girl”

moments later, you were back in the comfort of your home. snuggled in bed next to paige, bowls of ice cream on your lap, the tv buzzing in the background.

you could finally breathe again, you just needed your girl.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

The Witch's Bodyguard

(2) I hide and cower in the corner, conversations getting hard

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda has to do an interview and is a little anxious about it

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: None this is just a set up and establish chapter

A/N: I'm so glad you're all looking forward to this series!

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld

@snoozingredpanda @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

@natashamaximoff-69

Your fist collided with the sand filled bag, stopping it dead in its tracks. Breathing hot and heavy after a two hour workout. You grabbed for your towel, sitting down to wipe away the sweat from your face as the feeling of a cold water bottle hit the side of your neck.

“I heard you finishing up so I figured I'd bring some water.” You hear Wanda say from behind you. Your tumbler is forgotten beside you as you take the bottle from her. You'd been here only a week, but Wanda quickly learned you're a creature of habit. The early wake up time, workouts that lasted the same amount each day. She was taking notice of the little things.

“Thank you. We have to go out for that interview soon, right?” You ask as you receive a nod. Your eyes flicked down to her hands. Her fingers fidgeting with the rings on her other hand. You could tell she was nervous, but it wasn't your place to say anything so you simply stand up. “I'll be ready in 10. Is Bucky ready?” Your voice is firm, commanding, but devoid of any unnecessary inflection. Bucky's reliability is another aspect of your job that you've come to depend on. Wanda simply nods as the two of you leave the at-home gym.

You head back to your room in the house, taking a quick five minute shower before dressing in your army pants, boots, and a plain white top. You also put on your bulletproof vest and holster your pistol.

As you swiftly gear up, the weight of the bulletproof vest is a familiar comfort against your chest. You've worn it through countless missions, and now it's become a staple of your attire as Wanda Maximoff's bodyguard. The pistol snug in its holster feels like an extension of your body, a tool of protection that you've trained with extensively.

Exiting your room, you find Wanda pacing in the living room, her nervous energy palpable. Bucky stands nearby, his posture relaxed but alert, a testament to his own years of military training.

"Ready to go when you are Ma’am," you state, your voice steady and authoritative. Wanda nods, her eyes briefly meeting yours before she gathers herself. She's still adjusting to having a constant shadow, someone who anticipates her needs before she even realizes them. You can sense her wariness, the uncertainty lingering beneath her composed façade.

As you escort Wanda to the awaiting vehicle you place your hand on the small of her back. A small gesture to reassure her that you’re here. You keep a vigilant watch on your surroundings. Every passerby is a potential threat, every noise scrutinized for signs of danger. It's second nature to you, this constant state of alertness, but you can see how it unnerves Wanda, the way she glances around nervously.

During the drive to the interview location, Wanda remains quiet, lost in her own thoughts. You respect her need for space, allowing her the silence she seeks while remaining vigilant for any potential threats. Bucky engages in small talk, attempting to lighten the mood, but you remain stoic, your focus solely on the task at hand.

Arriving at the interview venue, you scan the area, assessing the security measures in place. Satisfied with your observations, you usher Wanda inside, your presence a silent reassurance amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and eager reporters. Your hand once again finding it’s place on the small of her back.

Throughout the interview, you remain at the perimeter, a silent sentinel watching over Wanda's every move. You catch the subtle shifts in her demeanor, the way she navigates the questions. To most people she probably looked normal, but to you it was obvious she was anxious as she waited for questions to come her way with her other coworkers. She fidgeted with her rings again as she looked over the crowd. When she catches your eye you can fully see the panic and you do something that surprises you both. You make a silly face and she starts smiling with her brows furrowed. So you make another and get a chuckle out of her. It made you happy to be able to ease her tensions.

As the interview draws to a close, you guide Wanda and Bucky back to the vehicle. Once safely inside, you exhale a silent breath of relief, the tension slowly dissipating from your shoulders. You looked over at Wanda you also seemed to be much more relaxed now that it was over.

======

You sit in the dim glow of the fire, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows across the room. The warmth seeps into your bones, a comforting embrace after the long day's work. With a book in hand, you delve into its pages, immersing yourself in a world far removed from the reality of your duties.

The rhythmic tapping of keys fills the room as Wanda works diligently on her laptop, her focus unwavering. You steal a glance at her from time to time, noting the furrow of her brow as she concentrates. There's a sense of determination about her, a drive to excel in everything she does.

The silence between you is companionable, each lost in your own thoughts yet connected by the shared space. It's a rare moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of your lives, a chance to simply be without the weight of the world pressing down upon you.

As the night stretches on, the fire burns lower, casting elongated shadows that dance along the walls. You reach for your cup of tea, the warmth seeping into your hands as you take a sip. The aroma of chamomile fills the air, soothing and calming.

Eventually, Wanda closes her laptop, the soft click of the lid echoing in the quiet room. She stretches, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she settles back into her chair. You close your book, marking your place with a gentle touch before setting it aside.

"Long day," Wanda remarks, her voice breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, the events of the day still fresh in your mind. Despite the challenges, you feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing that you've kept her safe once again.

"But a good day," you reply, your voice low yet filled with assurance. Wanda meets your gaze, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the differences between you, there's a mutual respect that binds you together. "Time for bed?" You ask, but Wanda shakes her head, making you raise an eyebrow.

"A little longer." Her voice is soft. "Just want to relax without work for a bit. Let my mind shut off." She looked at you, eyes looking so tired. Like she could fall asleep in her chair as she curled up her legs and rested her chin on her hand to look over at the fire.

You let her be, picking your book back up to read a little more. It was only a few minutes until you heard her breathing even out, looking up from your book to find her asleep. A small smile on your face. This seemed to be a thing. Half of the week Wanda was falling asleep somewhere other than her bed and you'd have to take her to bed.

You lift Wanda effortlessly, her slight frame feeling feather-light in your arms. She stirs slightly as you gather her, her grip tightening instinctively as she nestles closer to you. Her warmth seeps into your skin, a comforting presence amidst the quiet of the night.

As you ascend the stairs to her room, you navigate with ease, your steps sure and steady. Wanda's soft breaths tickle the nape of your neck, a gentle reminder of her vulnerability in this moment of repose.

Reaching her bedroom door, you push it open with a gentle nudge, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the night. The room is bathed in moonlight, casting a silvery glow upon the familiar surroundings.

Carefully, you lower Wanda onto her bed, tucking the covers around her with a tender touch. She sighs contentedly, her features relaxed in sleep. For a moment, you simply watch her, the moonlight casting shadows across her peaceful face.

With a sigh, you turn away, leaving her to her dreams. It's become a routine, this silent vigil over her rest, a duty you've come to embrace with quiet determination.

Exiting her room, you pause in the hallway, your gaze lingering on the closed door. In the stillness of the night, you can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over you, a silent vow to always keep her safe.

With one last glance, you continue down the hallway, the echo of her soft breathing lingering in your mind. As you settle into your own room, you can't help but reflect on the complexities of your role as her protector, the unspoken bond that binds you together even in the darkest of hours.

And as sleep finally claims you, you find solace in the knowledge that for tonight, at least, she rests easy under your watchful gaze.

[seouljazzbar]

𓆙 watermelon sugar — lee jihoon ★ .ᐟ

summary - “blowjobs are called jobs for a reason but going down on your girl is called eating out because it's a privilege” or your boyfriend just wants to eat you out word count - 1.3k warning - pussy worship, bed humping, slight dirty talk, oral + fingering (both f. recieving), jihoon cums all over himself poor baby — MINORS DNI! 18+ author’s note: i haven’t written fic in a while so here’s to me getting back to it! this is a refresh of an old fic i wrote but with a little polishing! something short and sweet for my woozi girls warnings: just a thousand words on jihoon eating pussy word count: 1.2k

There was something so alluring about seeing you fresh out of the bathtub. Your hair pulled away from your face, skin glowing in its post-cleanse state, hints of mango and chamomile wafting off of your body as you lathered lotion all over yourself. You’d had a long day and decided to treat yourself to a soak in the bath, all of your favorite products used generously in the seething hot water as you played music from your speakers.

Jihoon watched from your bed, eyes shifting between his phone screen and the indent of your spine as you sat at your vanity. Watching the way the black slip adorned your figure as you slid it on carefully, adjusting the straps the way you needed them to be. He didn’t want to interrupt you, knowing how much you loved your ‘me time’, especially after a long day dealing with your asshole of a boss. You looked so peaceful as you moisturized your face, humming along to snoh aalegra instead of singing because you didn’t know all of the words.

“Did you want me to order something for dinner? I would’ve already but I wasn’t sure if you ate and I didn't wanna disrupt your bath.”

You smiled at him sweetly, swiping a layer of balm to your lips before joining him atop your duvet. “I could go for some food, yeah.” You turned on Netflix on the TV, shuffling through the popular section to find something new for the two of you to watch. His gazing in wonderment at you staggered your focus, causing you to look over at him quizzically. “Everything okay?”

“More than,” He scooted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your midsection as he kissed you delicately, not daring to deepen it like he was scared to break you. “You’re just so beautiful, it’s hard not to stare.”

Your relationship with Jihoon was still fairly new. Navigating intimacy still made you bashful, and his eyes focused on you in such close proximity still made you want to hide from him. Your heart fluttered as the feeling of his breath on your face hit, his smile obvious in your peripheral as you averted your eyes in sheepishness. That warm fuzzy feeling was back, your face all prickly as the scent of his cologne washed over you again.

You leaned closer to kiss him again, tasting your own strawberry balm on his lips before your tongue ventured into his mouth. You held back the moan that bubbled in your throat as his hands lowered to your ass, squeezing the flesh seamlessly before you pulled away. “I think dinner can wait a minute.”

He chuckled against your lips, rolling you over to lay on your back as he propped himself up on his forearms. “Who told you you could look this good?” His lips littered kisses across the expanse of your neck and collarbones, your giggles music to his ears as he migrated your warm skin. Your hands gripped at the waistband of his sweats, fully prepared to tug them down his legs until he stopped you. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I-I just thought, you know, I could help you out.”

Jihoon shook his head, hiking your slip up to your waist to expose your thin cotton panties to him. “I’m not worried about that right now, I just wanna taste you.”

Your cheeks flooded with embarrassment as he licked his lips, moving so that he was laid comfortably in between your legs. You pushed your knees together to shield yourself from his line of vision, smoothing your slip back down your legs. “But I haven't shaved in a few days.”

“Baby, I'm a grown ass man. Now open up.” He discarded your panties, lugging you closer to his face as his hands enveloped your thighs. His tongue was hot as it pressed against your clit, slowly dragging up the nerve endings before swirling around it. You squirmed at the pleasure that rippled through you, hands clutching onto the duvet as his tongue dipped into your hole. He hummed against you, eyes rolling back at the taste he’d been craving since you invited him over. “So so good.”

The soles of your feet pressed against his back as he continued to explore your core, fingers trailing delicately along your hips as you refused to keep still. “Oh, my god, right there.”

“Feel good, baby?” He smirked more so to himself as he curled a finger into you, relishing in the hitch of your breath and the relocation of your hands to his hair as you pulled at it desperately.

You nodded, letting your eyes flutter shut as your head fell back against the pillows. You’d normally feel a bit embarrassed by the loud squelching noises your body was making as Jihoon’s fingers kneaded your g-spot, but it felt so good that you forced yourself to bask in it. “I’m almost there, Jihoon, fuck.”

“Let go, baby, give it to me.”

The tension in your stomach snapped as he added another finger, tongue still working your clit as your legs clamped around his head. His pace was unrelenting even when you tried to push him away, trying to rush out that you were done. “I-I came already, I’m too sensitive.”

He pulled away momentarily, wiping at his mouth as he looked up at you. “I'm not finished with you yet though.” Your taste stained his tongue in a way that he couldn’t get enough of, eager for more with each lick of your folds. He was absolutely addicted to you in a way you weren't used to and it surprised you every single time. “Taste yourself.”

Jihoon replaced his mouth with his fingers, digging his palm into your clit as his fingers pumped inside of you at just the right speed. He hovered over you as he kissed you, licking into your mouth so you could taste yourself in all your glory. You moaned quietly, followed by a whimper as he withdrew his hand from your heat. His fingers tapped at her mouth and you opened immediately, licking them clean of your own arousal without him having to tell you to.

He settled back between your legs and dove right back in without missing a beat, making your thighs shake around him in no time. He flattened his tongue between your folds as he shook his head, bringing that ball of tension back to your belly as his fingers slipped right back into you. You hadn’t even noticed that his hips were grinding into the mattress, humping in time with the rhythm of his fingers as he worked you through your second orgasm. “I don't think I can take a third.”

“Yes, you can, baby.”

His thumb rubbed circles around your clit as his tongue and fingers thrusted into you, stretching out your walls as your hips bucked uncontrollably. Profanities fell from your lips as you gripped his hair tighter, back arching at an alarming angle as you came all over his tongue for the third time. He moaned into you loudly, his grip on your legs deathly as his hips stalled their movements.

You struggled to come back down to earth, your breathing rough and ragged as Jihoon padded off to get you a towel doused in warm water. Your lips just barely muttered out a ‘thank you’ as he cleaned you up, grazing over the insides of your thighs that were sure to be sore in the morning. “It's your turn.”

Jihoon stuttered as he disappeared back into the bathroom, coming back with a towel wrapped around his hips instead of his sweats. “I, um. I’m good, actually.”

Your eyes went wide as you realized why he was good, his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. “O-oh, you already… Got it.”

“Eating you out just really turns me on.”

[thesassypadawan]

Ask Nicely (Master Anakin x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: Somedays you think your new master hates you and others… Well, let’s just say, you find out soon enough…when he expresses his disdain for you asking Obi-Wan nicely to take care of your needs.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Jealous Skyguy, rough fingering/kisses…and Ani’s thick digits. Padawan Reader is of age, 5 years younger than him.

“What’s the big deal? All I did was train with Master Kenobi,” you huffed. Rolling your eyes so hard that you wondered if they’d get stuck like that.

Anakin had been lecturing you nonstop for the last half hour. Starting from the minute he had practically dragged you out of the dojo…through the temple halls…back to your shared quarters. His strong hand wrapped firmly around your arm the whole way.

“For the fourth time this week,” he growled. Arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway, a frown on his face. “As your master, it’s my responsibility-”

“And you’re doing such a great job…” Having shed the last of your sweat soaked clothes, you began rummaging through your drawers. Back turned to him, not caring that you were standing there in only your undergarments. “…of neglecting those duties.”

You weren’t in the wrong, not in the very least. The two of you never had the greatest of relationships or, for that matter, one really at all. Constantly arguing and fighting, butting heads over anything and everything. Which grew worse when you abruptly became his padawan learner; to the point where you were verily certain that he hated you.

Or there was always something else that led you, made you want to believe…

Capturing your elbow, he easily whirled your around. “Listen here, it’s not my fault-”

“No, it is!” You snapped; jabbing your finger into his chest, refusing to stepdown. “You’re the whole reason why I have to go ask Obi-Wan nicely to help take care of my needs!”

Clearly striking a nerve, you watched as Ani’s jaw clenched tighter. Eyes narrowing at you, something dark flickering inside them. “Careful now; you don’t know-”

“Actually, I think I do,” you boldly interrupted once more. Mouth curling up into a sly grin, because you knew what you said next would anger him enough to either silence or… “You’re jealous! You can’t stand the idea of another man…let alone your old master…touching my body! Guiding me, teaching me how to move in ways that you aren’t able to!”

“Little one,” he snarled in warning. Shoving you back against the dresser, pinning you in place. Towering over your smaller frame menacingly.

You should have been terrified, horrified. Despite this though, you kept goading Anakin. “And his big hands felt so good resting on my hips… His fat cock pressing into my ass…”

Before you could continue, you were cut off by a quick, invisible squeeze to your neck. One that left you briefly stunned, speechless. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see what you have to say about Obi-Wan after I’m done teaching you.”

Not even a second later and his mouth was slotted against yours in a fiery kiss. Biting sharply at your bottom lip, demanding entrance. All the while his mechno hand found its way to your breast, tearing the bindings off like they were nothing.

The moment the cold air hit your exposed nipples, you let out a small whimper. Allowing Ani to slip his tongue in, wrestling with and pinning yours down. Showing you who was in control, attempting to force you into submission.

You tried to pull away, but he held you fast to him. Organic hand gripping the back of your head, long fingers tangling and tugging your hair roughly. The other delivering a solid slap to each tit before he finally decided it was time to break apart.

Gasping, coughing for air. A desperate whine escaped you as he trailed his lips down your jaw, your throat; leaving an array of lovely marks in their wake. Until they wrapped themselves around a pebbled bud; sucking hungrily, biting lightly when your back arched in response. “M-Mast-ter.”

While he lavished your chest with hot kisses, Anakin’s hand followed the curves of your body. Brushing your clothed mound, chuckling once he felt how drenched you were. “Would you look at that; already so wet for me. Bet the old bastard can’t get you like this…”

Nipping a sensitive nub one last time, he had risen back up. Hand grasping your chin tightly, lips crashing against your in another searing kiss. Making you mewl softly, body trembling in anticipation.

“…or sound like that,” he growled low. Suddenly yanking your panties to the side, plunging two leather clad fingers into your cunt.

Squealing, you clenched hard around him. Walls fluttering from the foreign sensation, from being stuffed so full. Hips rocking back and forth in time with his painfully slow pumps. A squelching sound filling the air.

Wanting and craving more. All that pent up frustration had you already so embarrassingly close to crashing over the edge. That you were reduced to a mere babbling mess when Ani abandoned your mouth and pressed his lips to your neck again. Kissing the junction of it and your shoulder, tongue lapping at the tender flesh. A pleasant shiver running down your spine. “P-please…please…”

His pace picked up, thick digits thrusting deep with you. Bullying and bruising your cervix, muttering. “Oh, are you close? You want to cum?”

Panting, you nodded frantically. The heat inside of you overwhelming while you lost touch with reality more and more from each drive.

“Words,” he demanded. Adding the remaining two, slamming them brutally into your packed pussy. “Use them.”

“Yes, s-so close!” You squeaked, the coil in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. “L-let me c-cum, master!”

At your words, he sunk his teeth in. Breaking the skin, hissing a ‘no’ as he abruptly withdrew his fingers. Pulling away, your fresh blood tinting his lips red.

A wild cry flew from your mouth. Sobbing at the denial, body sagging against the dresser. Hips bucking shamelessly in the air, trying to regain the pleasurable feelings that had been coursing through you.

Grabbing your ass, Anakin squeezed…smacked it hard. Smearing your slick across your freshly soiled panties. “Only good padawans get to do that…you haven’t been. Now, why don’t you try asking me nicely and maybe…I’ll help take care of your needs.”

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