#nine blood dances

[nineblooddances-if]

If you could describe each ro with three to five words what would they be?

WORDS TO DESCRIBE THE ROS

COMMANDER AAPO I LIBERTAS 

Sadistic. Charismatic. Confident. Fashionable. Egocentric.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

COMMANDER ANIL/AIDEN II LUXURIA 

Arrogant. Sarcastic. Aloof. Reliable. Accepting.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

COMMANDER ALICE III GULA 

Loyal. Hot-Headed. Adventurous. Friendly. Gluttonous.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

COMMANDER ERIC/EDWARD IV AVARITIA  

Reserved. Polite. Generous. Fair. Forlorn.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

COMMANDER LOUIS V IRA  

Boastful. Cowardly. Bossy. Vindictive. Stingy.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

COMMANDER GABRIEL VI MENDAX 

Soft-Spoken. Pessimistic. Peaceful. Sneaky.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ── 

COMMANDER DAMEION VII VIOLENTI 

Stubborn. Charismatic. Cocky. Laid-Back. Determined.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

COMMANDER LUCY OR LUCIUS VIII FICTUS 

Vulgar. Detached. Spineless. Jealous. Cunning.

── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ✶ ⋅ ⋅ ──

COMMANDER TRENT IX PRODITIO 

Secretive. Apathetic. Adaptable. Bright. Humorous.

[nerdburritos]

I'm starving, darling

summary: you and Astarion decide to play a little game of hide and seek.

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader | Astarion/f!Tav rating: 18+ (MDNI) tags/warnings: blood drinking, explicit sexual content, porn with plot, predator/prey, smut, bodily fluids word count: 2.5k read on ao3: I'm starving, darling

a/n: english isn't my first language so please excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors!

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"I'm home, my treasure." You slowly rose from sleep as these sweet words were whispered into your ear. You had no idea what time it was or when excatly he came home from one of his important meetings he now had on his schedule nearly ever other say since slowly taking over Baldurs Gate.

It started quietly, in the shadows. Getting invited to important political events wasn't hard now, you were the heroes of Baldurs Gate after all, the rest was fairly easy. Astarion slowly slipped into politics, barely noticeable at first - advising here and there, helping out and funding the restoration of the city. Now he sat in the High Council of Baldur's Gate, slowly filling the remaining seats with his people - his personal puppets, dancing just how he liked. No one noticed how influential he actually had become at first, until it was too late. He had slipped into every important part of Baldur's Gate - politics, finance, jurisdiction.

He was no merciless leader but people respected and feared him and that's all Astarion has ever wanted. The Ascended Vampire, a creature of night being able to walk in the blazing sun, enter homes uninvited and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh - most people didn't even dare to question him, it'd be foolish anyways.

You opened your eyes slightly, seeing Astarion towering over you on the bed, caging you in with his strong arms, the soft black, satin blankets clinging to your frame. He was still wearing his outfit from his earlier meeting - a black doublet with gold embroidery and matching slacks, gods how you loved that outfit on him.

"Good meeting?" you asked while slowly wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. Astarion immediately buried his head into your neck, breathing in your scent, placing gentle kisses over your collarbone.

"Mh-hm." he mumbled, still buried in your neck while he placed his hands on your waist, pulling yor body closer to him. "Such fools, all of them." Your gentle giggles were quickly interrupted by a moan as Astarion started to lick from your collarbone up to your ear, where he gently nibbled on your earlobe with his sharp fangs, making you shiver in anticipation - he was eager.

"How about some dessert?" Astarion whispered into your ear, making his way down your neck again, nibbling and kissing… he wanted to feed, obviously. You smirked, quite in the mood for riling him up a little.

"No." You simply said, grabbing his head and pulling him away from your neck. The look upon his face said it all - red eyes wide open in surprise, a mix of "what?" and "how dare you?" written all over his face.

"Oh, my love, your forget yourself. You're in no position to deny me. I know you want it, darling." Astarion whispered again in that deep, rumbling voice of his. You quicky jumped out of bed before he had a chance to pounce on you, making your way on the other side of the room, giggling like a little girl. Astarion smirked.

"Hmm, so you want to play a game, little love? Very well, I'll indulge you." He slowly unfastened the cufflinks on his doublet, sending you seductive looks - by the Nine Hells, this man was a vision. "So, how about this: you run and hide and I'll try to find and catch you. I'll give you a head start of 5 minutes, only within the palace, no gardens." He ran a hand trough his fluffy white curls and you nodded. "And when I catch you, you'll be all mine, like it's supposed to be." Astarions red eyes bore right into yours and you nodded. All his.

"Very well then, run off, my love. I'll see you soon." You immediately took off, running down the hall, figuring out where to hide. You knew the palace inside out but so did Astarion. You had to switch your hiding places after a certain time, that much was clear, you had to win! Astarion was a sore loser, so seeing the absolute disbelief on his face would be priceless. You suddenly heard the door of your shared bedroom shut in the distance, has it already been five minutes or was he cheating already?

You quickly hid in the old storage closet, it was fairly empty with the expetion of some old boxes and a few brooms, a bad hiding spot but it had to suffice for now. Astarion slowly made his way down the corridor, whisteling a gentle tune, already sure of his victory and thinking about all the delectable things he might do to you later. He continued to stroll down the corridor with his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks until he suddenly heard gentle movements from the laudry chamber next to him and smirked. How convenient. Sure it must be his little treasure inside, he ripped open the doors and stared right into the face of a shocked maid.

"Lord Ancunìn! How can I be of service?" she stuttered, right in the middle of folding the bedsheets, clearly not expecting his sudden appearance.

"Have you seen my consort, maid?" He snapped, already on edge. This was most embarrassing.

"I-i think Lady Ancunìn went further into the west wing, my Lord." Astarion slammed the door shut and made his way towards the west wing while you quietly removed yourself from the storage closet and headed into the opposite direction, quite sure of your victory but your inner celebration came to a quick halt as fast steps approached you. It was him but how? How did he know?

You quickly ran down the corridor and into Astarion's private study, the footsteps getting closer and closer. You were pretty sure that he used his vampiric powers to find you - that cheating bastard, he just couldn't bare to lose this silly, little game. The study didn't offer any good hiding spots either but you had no way out, Astarion was propably right behind you, you'd be running straight into his arms and you'd never hear the end of it. You slilently tucked yourself into a corner of the room, casting invisibilty just in time as the door swung open and Astarion stepped in, looking quite confused as the room appeared empty. He slowly shut the door, locking it - he knew you were still here.

"You can come out now, little love. There is nowhere to go." He chuckled, walking across the room and settling himself on the edge of his desk, leaning slightly back, waiting patiently - he knew the invisbility spell you propably casted was going to wear off soon. He proceeded to teasingly unbutton his doublet, eyes glancing across the room. By the gods, you wanted him but you were not ready to give up just yet, you still had about thirty seconds of invisibility left.

You quietly snuck to the door and teleported yourself out of the room - Astarion immediately noticed and ran after you, the doublet now open and his bare chest on full display. He saw you run across the corridor right in front of him as your invisibility slowly faded and let out a dark chuckle, he was enjoing this hunt massively. While your stamina was not bad, you were terribly aware that you could never outrun a Vampire, let alone an ascended one, Astarion was letting you get away with it, he was playing with you. You sprinted around the corner and came face to face with a wall, shit. You forgot that you closed off the entire wing that led down to the ritual chamber, only Astarion was able to enter and said Vampire was now right behind you, slowly getting closer and closer with a predatory smile.

"There you are, my little treat." You pressed your back against the wall, giving him a shy look, hoping you might get away with it. "Now, don't be coy." This was obviously not working, he seemed to be immunue to your charm so you had to beat him at his own game, that was your only hope now so you let him approach, playing the part of the poor, weak consort who just lost their silliy little game, his own damsel in the distress who needed a big, strong Vampire Lord to save her day. Astarion's protectiveness and his need to play your big, strong consort was a major turn-on for both of you. He loved to show off how powerful he was in comparison to you, knowing he could easily overpower but keep you safe anytime.

"Aww, don't pout." Astarion teased. "Don't you dare to give me an attitude now, my pet." He pressed you further into the wall, sure of his victory. You gave him a coy smile, placing your arms around his neck and Astarion was sure you were about to give in but you suddenly slipped down, crawling through his spreaded legs, freeing yourself and running away, laughing.

"Cheeky little pup." Astarion chuckled. "You want to play dirty? Fine, 'cause I love it dirty." He used his powers to teleport himself right in front of you, managing to elict a shocked gasp out of you.

"Cheater!" you yelled, ready to push him away but he immediatly grabbed your hands, pulling you into his naked chest.

"You're quite the insolent little pup today, my treasure." Astarion pushed you into the nearest wall, securing your arms above your head with one hand while the other made his way down your body, immediately cupping the sensitive spot between your legs - you let out a loud gasp. "My my, is this getting you all excited, my pet?" He leaned closer, whispering in your ear now. "Is this getting you all wet?" Astarion pushed his thigh between your legs, settling you down while still pressing you against the wall, making you whimper with need. He grabbed your hips and began moving them up and down his thigh, creating a dangerous friction between your legs and you let the most pathetic moan escape our mouth, Astarion laughed.

"Look at you, precious thing, you do want this." He gently nuzzled your neck, teasing the column of your throat with gentle kisses and the occasional suck while you continued to grind on his thigh, working yourself up more and more. Your sweet moans were nearly enough for him, he quickly freed himself from his slacks, giving his already hard cock a few gentle strokes while he continued to lick that delicious throat of yours. Your breath started to quicken, you were close and Astarion removed his thigh and pushed your dress up to your hips.

"By the Nine Hells…" he breathed as he saw your black thong, all lace, his absolute weakness. He deftly pushed the flimsy material to the side and ran a gentle finger through your folds, gathering some wetness before settling on your bundle of nerves, cicling it slowly.

"Oh Astarion…I'm gonna…" He immediately removed his fingers, one hand cupping your breast instead, gently teasing your hard nipple with firm, circling strokes of his thumb while the other one grabbed the base of your throat, applying gentle pressure, not enough to completly cut off your air supply but just enough to be noticeable.

"Oh no, my love, not yet." The hand teasing your breast moved downwards, grabbing his hard cock once more and slowly guiding himself closer to your aching pussy. He gently coated himself in your juices, letting the head run through your slit, teasing you and making you whine in anticipation before pushing just the tip inside of you. It took all of his strength not to take you hard and fast right now but he intended to drag this out, make you suffer.

"Astarion…fuck…." you whimpered, trying to move your hips closer to his, to slide him all the way inside but he kept you pressed against the wall.

"Tsk, tsk, good girls ask before they take what they want. You are my good girl, aren't you, precious?" he teased, gently cicling your clit with his thumb, biting his lower lip with his fangs on full diplay. You nodded vigorously. "Then tell me."

"Please…please, Astarion…"

"Please what, my love?"

"You've won! Please fuck me!"

"Well, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He smirked arrogantly, placing gentle kisses on your neck again before finally sheathing his fangs into your throat and pushing his cock inside of you. Astarion moaned gently around your throat, sending shivers down your spine as he took generous gulps of your blood while pushing in and out of you at a tantalizing slow speed.

"That's a good girl." He felt your pussy flutter around him - gosh, the praise was really doing it for you and your blood began to taste even sweeter - your impending climax so close he could practically taste it.

"Fuck, you're being so good for me, my pet." Astarion took one more gulp before freeing his now blood-stained fangs from your neck, licking across the puncture marks to clean them. He now stared right into your eyes with his beautiful red ones, continuing his sweet, sweet praise while he slowly pushed in and out of you.

"You like that, don't you? The way my cock feels inside of you, like you were made for me." All you could do was moan and cling closer to him. "Fucking. Perfect." He slid out and pushed back in hard with every word, he was slowly losing control, getting closer and closer.

"Yes, my love, that's it." Astarion praised as he felt your pussy getting tighter. "Come for me." You saw stars as he started to tease your clit oh so gently once again and shattered around him. You felt yourself gushing, coating his cock with your release and blushed but Astarion seemed to quite enjoy it.

"Oh my pet, you've made such a mess for me, fuck…" His thrust were getting harder, sloppier, his breathing quickened. You placed your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer while resting your forehead on his, gently moaning.

"Please come inside me." You begged breathless, knowing this might send him over the edge. Saying that Astarion had a breeding kink might be far-feteched, he wasn't fond of children, he didn't even particularly like them, not to mention that a Vampire can't sire children, not even an ascended one but the thought of your pussy dripping with his release was enough. You pushed yur hips against his, helping him along and placed one of your hands on his defined chest, gently teasing his nipple.

"Oh fuck, little love, I'm gonna come…" Astarion's moan was the most beautiful thing on earth, you thought, you loved how vocal he was during sex, never above mentioning how good he felt or letting the occasional dirty talk slip in. Sex with Astarion was far from boring or vanilla. "Fuck." he nearly whimpered as he spilled inside you, his sloppy thrusts coming to a halt, his chest now pressed right on yours. You felt his hot breath on our neck as he buried is head into your shoulder, slowly coming down from his height.

You slipped your hands in his soft, white hair, slowly massaging his scalp and playing with his curls, feeling quite content and relaxed.

"Bath, my love?" he mumbled into your shoulder, already grabbing the back of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms. You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you down the corridor.

[carolmunson]

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later. 

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[pandoraslxna]

hi luna, i found ur fics on ao3 and ran my ass to tumblr bc i just needed more of ur writing. you're so talented!!

i was wondering if you could write a lo'ak x reader story similar to the step bro!teyam fic where he makes contact with the sex pollen. it could be step bro!lo'ak or just reader's bsf idm bc i've been thinking abt that fic for agessss and i'd die for a lo'ak version even where reader is the one that touches the pollen instead 😭🫶 pretty pls and thanks in advance （╹◡╹）♡

Forbidden desires

adult Stepbro!Lo‘ak x female omatikaya reader

Words: 3.8k

Summary: Nine times out of ten, when you were sent to one of those old, abandoned RDA outpost facilities, it went just fine. But there's always that tenth time.

Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest (they’re not blood related), sex pollen, cowgirl position, creampie, teasing, praise

Nine times out of ten, when you were sent to one of those old, abandoned RDA outpost facilities, it went just fine. But there's always that tenth time. And of course it’s when your accompanied by your older stepbrother, who somehow seemed to magically attract any kind of danger ever since he was a kid.

Scavenging abandoned laboratories for essential supplies that the clan could use was usually safer than it sounded, but this place, it was far off your usual research zone and Jake- dad, he said you could call him dad. Well dad said, it would be better to not go alone this time, just in case.

The once bustling scientific havens now stands as a relict of the past, slowly succumbing to the relentless embrace of nature. The laboratory emerges from the foliage, structure weathered and worn by time. Moss and ivy clings to the cracked walls, intertwining with rusted metal equipment. Vines creep through broken windows and shattered glass, casting intricate patterns of sunlight onto the decaying floors.

This place smells sharp, metallic, so much like tawtutes [humans] and the rotting smell of death and burnt earth they leave behind. Not exactly a pleasant scent.

Inside, a sense of eerie tranquility fills the air. Dust particles dance in the faint beams of light that manage to pierce through the overgrown canopy. Dilapidated shelves line the walls, remnants of long-forgotten experiments, holding faded vials and forgotten notes.

Lab benches, once polished and pristine, now bear the scars of abandonment papers lay strewn across the floor, their text faded and illegible. The hum of electricity has long been silenced, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the fluttering wings of Riti [Stingbats] that were abruptly woken by the two na‘vi entering the long forgotten building.

Amongst the ruins, you search meticulously, your eyes scanning for useful remnants. You carefully examine cabinets, hoping to uncover unused medicine, bandages, exo packs that are still intact or any other useful tools.

Your stepbrother however, seemed to have other plans in mind.

"You shouldn’t touch that", you said, snatching his wrist mid way of him prodding at what you hoped was a fake skeleton. Lo‘ak let out a chuckle as he gazed down at you, both of his brows raised in amusement as he wriggled his hand free of your hold.

"Relax, tsmuke [sister]. Are you always this uptight when going on your little adventures?"

"I‘m not uptight, Lo‘ak. I‘m being careful", you said, shaking your head. "Jak– Dad taught me to be. You never know what the vrrteps [demons] could possibly be hiding here. And this isn’t an adventure, we‘re here to get supplies!"

"Right, of course. We‘re on a very important mission here", Lo’ak scoffs sarcastically, then proceeds to yank at the skeletons arm and point it in your direction, poking your hip with the boney finger when you roll your eyes at him. "You think they have traps set here to capture cute na‘vi girls? Ohh, isn’t that scary?"

"You’re an idiot", you giggle, swatting the hand away and playfully slapping your stepbrothers arm.

You both then take the steps up to the second floor of the building, and when you round a corner, you stop dead in your tracks. There was a "DO NOT ENTER" sign taped to the door that was slowly starting to peel off.

Experiments on animals or even na‘vi weren’t really uncommon, and you knew the horrors that the RDA was capable of, had heard and seen it yourself, especially in those research laboratories. Which is why you weren’t sure if whatever awaited behind this door was worth the few extra exo packs and bandages.

"We shouldn’t–"

"Oh, yes we should", Lo‘ak is quick to cut you off, all too eager to push the heavy metal door open. A rush of stale air fills your nostrils and you grimace at the smell.

"I should’ve just asked Neteyam to come with me", you mumble under your breath, closely following Lo‘ak into the room, who had a wide, excited grin on his face.

"And miss out on all the real fun?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah, you two would clearly make the better duo."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the feeling of unease that grew inside you, your eyes darting around the room, while your stepbrother's curiosity only intensified. Ignoring your trepidation, Lo‘ak stepped forward, drawn to a large, dusty table at the center of the room.

Among the scattered papers and broken equipment laid a few conical flasks, some of them still filled with droplets of a strange liquid.

Turning on your heals you took a quick 360°-spin. The room was small enough to get an overall view in less than a few seconds. There was nothing but this table and broken laboratory equipment. Nothing that seemed to be of worth for the clan, so you glanced back over your shoulder, already heading back to the door as you pleaded, "Lo‘ak, come on. There’s nothing in here, let’s just go back."

Lo’ak however, couldn't resist the temptation to tease you, playfully waving one of the glasses around. "Killjoy", he mutters under his breath, before shouting, "Here, catch", and throwing the conical flask in your direction. You shriek as you jump around to try and catch the glass in time, but it slips right past your fingers.

You both watch it fall like it’s happening in slow motion, until it bursts on the floor and the glass shatters in thousand little pieces.

As soon as the liquid inside makes contact with the tiled floor, it morphs into a small cloud of steam that smells awfully sweet and you end up coughing a few times before sending a glare in Lo‘aks direction. Sucking in a sharp breath, he makes an apologetic face and rushes to your side, careful not to step in any of the glass shards. "Shit, sorry! I‘m so sorry, are you hurt?"

"No, skxawng [moron]. I‘m fine", you clear your throat, "Great mother, you’re acting like such a child sometimes…"

"Yeah, I hear that a lot", he grins and you can’t help but smile at the coy flick of his tail. "C‘mere, can’t let you get hurt or dad will skin me", he murmurs, pointing at the glass, before scooping you into his arms and carrying you out of the room.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and tickles Lo‘aks neck as you rest your chin on his shoulder. Your heart was still pounding from the scare, harder than you would like to admit. Nuzzling closer to his neck, you allowed your eyes to rest for a moment, just breathing in the natural, soothing scent of his skin, while he carried you downstairs. He smells so much like cedarwood, leather and freshly cut grass, you notice. And something else that you can’t quite put a name on, but it tingles your nostrils and makes goosebumps raise on the nape of your neck.

"You smell good", you mumble the words before you can throughly think them through, while pressing your nose against his throat. Your lips graze his skin and you can feel his upper body stiffen at that. "Was that a weird thing to say?" You ask calmly, almost a little too calm.

There’s a moment of silence before Lo‘ak shakes his head and murmurs a quick, "no."

Back at the main entrance, he gives a light squeeze to your hips, signaling you that he would let you down to your feet now, but your arms wrap around his neck tightly. He just smells so good, you want to stay here for a while longer. Lo‘ak is strong, you know he could effortlessly carry you all day.

"Can you hold me for a while longer?" Your own voice seems so far gone, so far away, you don’t even hear yourself properly, don’t even realize you’re speaking at all. Your skin tingles where Lo‘ak has his arms wrapped around you, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm, pressing yourself closer against him.

"Tanhì [little star], are you… are you okay?"

"Hmh", you hum, crossing your ankles behind his back like a Syaksyuk [prolemuris] clinging to it‘s mother.

"Are you sure?" There’s genuine concern in his voice, one of his hands running up your back, feeling your temperature at the nape of your neck. "You’re kind of burning up a little."

Your response almost sounds like a drunken mumble, "hmm strange. My heart‘s beating pretty fast too." It’s followed by a little giggle, and Lo‘ak frowns.

He‘s not panicking, not yet, but he knows something is wrong. This was really, really not normal behavior for you. He feels your face entirely too close to his pulse point, can feel your nose nuzzling against him, your lips brushing his throat. It’s not a kiss, he tries to make himself believe.

You’re not kissing up and down his throat. You’re not, because that would be wrong. Why would you— and then he feels it. Your tongue. His whole body shivers at the wet glide of your tongue on his throat, and Lo‘ak swallows thickly, before coming back to his senses.

"O-Okay, listen, uhm, I’m gonna put you down now", he scrambles, untangling you from his body to set you down to your feet. Your knees seem a little weak and Lo‘ak can’t help but reach out to hold you steady, ignoring the way it makes you blush and lean in on him again.

It doesn’t take a genius to come to the conclusion that whatever was in that glass container must’ve been some sort of drug or whatever. As soon as the coin drops, Lo‘aks heart fills with guilt. His expression shifts to that of worry and uncertainty as he ponders if calling his father would be a good idea. He knows he has to make sure you’ll be okay, has to get you to the tsahìk, but he knows just as well that dad will most definitely skin him alive if he finds his precious adoptive daughter in this condition.

"I feel weird, Lo'", you snap him out of his train of thoughts. Lo’aks hands are on your upper arms, holding you steady while simultaneously keeping some distance between you and him. His eyes scan you up down, and he almost chokes on his spit as he catches the way you clench your thighs together, squirming, and fiddling with the fabric of your loincloth. "Feels really weird… here", you tell him in a hushed whisper, one of your hands bullying it’s way between your clenched thighs. Your eyes are half lidded and glassy as you stare up at him through your lashes, your cheeks flushed in a dark red.

Now he’s panicking.

"S-Shit", he sputters. His eyes are wide as he adverts his gaze to somewhere, anywhere else but you, trying not to look at his stepsister touching and rubbing herself over her clothes. That’s bad, that’s really, really bad. "Let’s just get you home, yeah? I‘m– I‘m sure there’s a cure to whatever it is that you have."

One quick glance down to see if you had even heard what he just said, and he finds you still clumsily rubbing your hands between your thighs, seeking some sort of relief. "But you", he swallows thickly, "you really need to stop doing that, okay?" Lo’ak knows he doesn’t even sound half convincing, and it takes him more than just a bit of effort to not stare at you right now.

You look back at him under your lashes, bite your bottom lip and shake your head and he knows you’re doing that on purpose— working him up with those helpless little noises, sweet sounds of need and pleasure, thighs clenching and unclenching around your own hand.

"C-Can’t you just help me? Please, I- I need you."

One of your hands then closes around his wrist and before he realizes to where you’re guiding him, his palm cups your still covered cunt. He feels your slick drench the woven coverings under his fingertips and his eyes widen. "Need you here", you plead. "It hurts so bad, Lo‘ak. I‘m so empty."

"I– I can’t, we shouldn’t—" Lo’ak shakes his head, seemingly torn, but suddenly your lips press against his and he just can’t find it in himself to pull away.

Your lips are so soft, softer than he imagined (not that he imagined what kissing you would be like, ever) and the moment Lo‘ak finds himself kissing back you surge forward, the grip around his wrist tightens, urging him to stay right there, teeth nipping at his bottom lip until his lips part and he can taste you, your tongue slipping inside his mouth, your salvia mixing with his.

Your kiss is forceful and he’s so much more into it than he thought he’d ever be. And when you pull back your lips are red and wet, and he knows his mouth is probably a perfect mirror to yours.

"Fuck, tanhì, baby", he whispers, "Gonna get me in trouble…" And in an instant he’s on you again. His tongue tingles as it curls around yours, with drool running down his chin as he backs you up against a tree. You cling to him, desperate and wanting, not letting go of his wrist until he makes you understand that he’s only pulling away to get that damn loincloth out of the way. It nearly rips with the effort of getting it off, but when he finally succeeds you both clumsily pull each other to the ground.

This is wrong, he thinks as he spreads your legs opens. This is so wrong, he thinks as he runs his hands up and down your body, your chest, pushing your top out of the way.

You look so beautiful like this, chest heaving and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Hair messy and eyes dark with lust, pupils so blown it should make him worry, but he can’t bring himself to care when his gaze falls to the space between your thighs where slick oozes out of you in a concerning amount.

"Please- Please put it in, I need you", you slur, spreading your thighs further apart. "Need you inside."

Your pussy looks red and puffy, so sensitive as he runs two digits through your folds and then gently pushes them in. You gasp, but open up perfectly for him. It’s not enough, Lo‘ak can feel it. He curls his fingers, pumps them in and out a few times to hear those sweet moans tumble from your parted lips.

"You have to promise you won’t hate me after this", he says under his breath. His thumb glides over your clit, gently pushing its little hood up to bring the little nub into view and he can almost feel it throb under his touch. "I‘m just helping you out because you asked for it, alright?" Lo‘ak says it as if he’s talking to himself, reassuring that you want this, it’s okay, and maybe it actually is. Peeling his eyes away from the mouthwatering sight between your thighs he finally looks back up at you, swallowing the salvia that has been pooling in his mouth. "Promise you won’t hate me. Please." The restrain is clear in his voice, but he’s nowhere near as needy as you are. "C’mon, baby, say it. Tell me with your words."

"I won’t hate you, Lo‘ak just please–" Suddenly you shove him by the shoulders, rolling over until you’re the one straddling him, pinning him down to the ground. Your hand impatiently reaches between your thighs and feels for his cock, before repositioning it to prod his tip at your entrance. He bucks up into your hand as you give his cock a few pumps, pre-cum dribbling through your fingers.

The sight of him beneath you sends a throb straight to your cunt.

Lo‘ak sucks in a breath just as he’s about to tell you to wait, slow down, but then you‘re already slamming yourself down onto him without remorse. Fuck, it's so easy. Fits right in like a glove; overwhelmingly wet and warm, a terrible combination that scares him.

A punched out moan breaks from his throat as he feels the tightness of your velvety-like walls envelope his length. He’s so deep inside you, he can feel your cervix kissing his tip and it sends a shudder up his spine.

It's almost an out-of-body experience as you get on your haunches and lift yourself up, the head of his cock still nudged against your entrance, and he watches your gleaming lips part before you sink all the way back down again, taking him into the softest, most delicate parts of yourself.

Lo‘ak feels it and knows that he can’t change anything about the way he’s completely surrendering to your control- and he absolutely fucking loves it.

It’s so wrong, but that’s what brings a tingle to his fingertips. So dirty, but that’s what makes heat raise under his skin like a fire burning down a forest.

Lo’ak watches the way your belly contracts visibly, in time with the hitch in your breath at the first few thrusts. Your thighs tense and your fingers finds his braids to anchor yourself, and his hands find your hips and push you down harder on his length and he’s startled to realise how soft you are now, yielding to him in ways he’d never have imagined once. You’re putty in his hands, ridden by nothing but pleasure. A carnal need.

It’s luck that the adventures in Lo’aks life gave or showed him at least a bit of reservoirs of self-control that his karyus [teachers] never thought he had, because after those first few thrusts, you ride him vigorously.

Lo’ak doesn’t know how you’re this in sync, but he knows you want him to fuck you hard and fast. With his hands still gripping your hips tightly, he drives deep and eagerly into your weeping cunt, welcomed by that glorious softness again and again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and meet his thrusts as best as you can.

"Lo‘ak", you draw out his name in a long, pathetic moan, "more, need more!"

"Great mother, you’re greedy, baby," he huffs out in a laugh, grips your hips and holds you down on his cock for a second longer than necessary, just to feel your little cunt pulsate around him. You struggle briefly, before picking up the pace again, bouncing harder than before, but also more uncoordinated.

"S‘just so good," you slur, sounding almost drunk. "You feel so good inside me. Fuck me harder!"

Your tongue lolls out and he catches you mid way, tongues meeting in a hungry, filthy kiss. You taste awfully sweet as you moan into it, and Lo‘ak can’t help but think you would want spurs right now, to urge him on all the more. As if he needs that when you kiss him like this, when you hold him so close he feels your tits, soft and warm and perfect, press against his chest.

His cock throbs and you’re starting to quiver now, distinct from the more deliberate movements you both make. It shows in your breasts, makes your thighs tremble against his sides and makes tremors in your stomach muscles.

For a moment it switches from bouncing to grinding, and Lo‘ak knows what you’re trying to do. You grind and rub your needy little clit against his pubic bone, let out desperate noises of pleasure while you hump him.

Lo‘ak makes a hungry humming noise in return which he feels through his lips, once you break away from the kiss, then a breathy groan when he captures a nipple between his teeth. His tongue swirls around the little nub before he tugs and he enjoys the way you clench around him at this.

One of his hands comes up to palm the other, kneading your soft flesh and twirling a nipple between his digits.

"Come for me", he then says, flat tongue gliding over your breast before goosebumps raise underneath. "Come for me, tsmuke. Do it."

The scream you let out is borderline pornographic. It brings tears to your eyes and nearly tips you off balance if it weren’t for Lo‘ak holding you, fucking you through it with short but deep thrusts that send you gasping for air. "Hmh, there it is. Good girl," he groans, "keep coming for me, baby, just like that. Let it all out for your big bro, yeah? Let me feel how bad you wanted this. Look at me."

You force your eyes to stay on him, watch him as you fall apart, rocking your hips for that little bit of extra friction, and Lo’ak feels all of it. The wetness where you are slipping together, the tightness, the little tremors of your body, the pulse of your clit as it rubs against him.

Lo‘ak doesn’t even realize he’s coming himself because he’s entirely too focused on you. He’s bluntly staring at you, eyes half open, mouth agape. It’s like he is trying to burn the image of your pleasure ridden face and your picture perfect body on top of him into his brain forever. He wants to keep it stored away just for himself, to come back to after this is over because he knows he can’t have you again. Because this can’t happen again.

The wet plap, plap, plap of his thrusts continues until your thighs begin to shake and he’s sure he has emptied even the last drop of his cum into your core. It’s back to just grinding then, wet bodies pressing together, closer and closer until neither of you can’t move anymore.

You’re panting, exhausted and spent, your chest heaving to inhale big gulps of air into your burning lungs. Blinking a few times, Lo‘ak notes that your eyes are halfway back to normal, pupils not as big as they were, your skin feeling less feverish but all the more sticky than before.

Good, that’s good, right?

"You," a pause, he swallows, "you okay?"

Nodding and a little out of breath you confirm it with a quick, breathy, "yeah."

There’s a long, long moment of silence, with just the two of you looking at each other, sweat still pearling at your forehead and messy hair framing your beautiful face. Lo‘ak looks at you like he’s afraid breaking the eye contact would break the spell and you would shove him away and call him disgusting, but you don’t.

"I'm not sorry, you know" he says finally, when he can’t stand it anymore. "I would do it again. For you. I will do it again, in a heartbeat, if I...."

"If you have to," you finish for him.

Lo’ak considers pushing it, considers holding your face and speak more firmly so he could be sure he had your full attention while he tried to make you get it. "Yeah," he says gently instead, risking a half hearted grin that would surely give him away. "If I have to."

[marvelfilth]

Angel (18+)

Pairing: stripper!Tara Carpenter x f! lawyer!reader

Warnings: no ghostface AU, Tara is 21, R is 27, smut, lap dance, pole dance, alcohol consumption, tipsy driving (pls don't do that), fingering, a bit of degradation and praise

Summary: You need to unwind. Angel gives you more than you could have ever asked for.

Masterlist

You've had a bad month. Scratch that, you've had the worst month of your career. You've lost one of your loyal clients to a rival and your boss chewed you out over it, and, to top it off, you've lost a case you've been working on for the past four months.

You blink back the exhaustion, leaning back on the railing of your office balcony. You've been nursing your whiskey for the past hour, hoping it'll chase away your gnawing thoughts, but to no avail, you're still deep in your head, rethinking every decision that led you to this.

You check your wrist watch, the platinum glistening in the city lights, and decide to finally head home. You finally relax once you're in your car, putting the key in the ignition and driving off, leaving the day behind. You take a familiar route, driving almost on autopilot and humming along to the song on the radio, fingers drumming on the wheel.

You're almost home when you change your mind and make a sharp turn on the next intersection, heading to a place you haven't been to in months.

Two men in the front greet you with identical nods, holding the door open for you, sensual music spilling into the bustling street. Your eyes zero in on the bar, not paying any attention to the stage and the dancers, happy to see a familiar face handling alcohol tonight.

"Tough day?" Amber asks with a sympathetic smile, placing a full glass in front of you.

"Tough month," you sigh, not in the mood for a conversation.

She offers one more smile before turning to another guest, sensing your desire to be left alone. Her eyes take on a new glint, lips slightly pursed in a cute pout as she talks to a clean shaved man. You scoff in your drink and shake your head, ignoring the glare she sends you.

Leaning back against the bar you settle to simply people watch for some time, maybe get a dance or two from a pretty woman.

"You should ask for Angel," Amber says, wiping the counter. You look at her in question, your glass stopping midway to your mouth. "She's new, but she's good. You could use some unwinding and she's the best at it, trust me."

You nod slowly and ask for a refill before leaving her a tip and walking off to a secluded booth in the back of the club, settling back on the couch and trying to find a new face in the sea of dancers you already know well. Out of the corner of your eye you see Felicity, a fiery redhead with no filter. She effortlessly glides on the dancefloor in her nine inch heels, red lingerie catching eyes of gaping men with pockets full of cash. She bends in a sensual move, her thong granting a perfect view of her round ass. You hum when money starts falling in waves, making the floor disappear. She deserves that and more.

She catches your eye, brow raising suggestively, to which you shake your head no.

"Waiting for someone?" A voice whispers right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your head turns to be met with the eyes of a stranger inches away from your own, lips painted blood red and pulled into a smirk.

You swallow, feeling the swell of her breasts against your arm that's resting on the back of the couch, and shake your head tersely, not trusting your voice just yet. She bites her lower lip and pulls away to slowly walk around the couch, making sure to show off her assets.

Almost all of her body is bare, her lacy push up bra making her breasts look good enough to throw handfuls of cash at her feet. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the full globes, then lowers to a dark red triangle of fabric between her legs held by a thin string. She takes her sweet time in caging you against the leather cushions, draping herself over your lap, hands settling on your shoulders.

You take this opportunity to study her features: the slope of her small nose; the freckles dusted all over her upper cheeks; her dark and inviting eyes, eagerly drinking you up with the same vigor; her full lips, painted red and waiting to be claimed.

She takes your whiskey and sips, expertly masking the distaste behind an alluring smile, but you still catch the way her eyes momentarily squeeze in a fleeting grimace, making you bite back a chuckle.

"I'm Angel. What's your name?" She purrs, hips moving to the beat as she plays with the hair at the nape of your neck. You see some men glare at you with jealousy, their jaws grinding. Angel must be fairly popular to grant a reaction like that.

"Does it matter?" You husk, struggling to keep your hands to yourself.

"Mysterious, huh?" She chuckles, arching against your chest, her barely covered breasts almost spilling out right in your face, hips moving in circles against your crotch. "I like that."

You hum, settling back to watch her flexible body roll against your slowly relaxing one, her lower lip pulled between pearly white teeth.

"There you go," she whispers, sliding her palm down your chest, her other hand tangling in your hair, nails scratching your scalp. It feels so good you almost purr. "Tell me what got you so wound up."

You sigh and take another sip of your drink before answering. "Lost my top client."

She hums, her torso moving in a slow hypnotic circle, before leaning back into you to whisper right in your ear. "Their loss."

She pulls back to look you in the eye, the space between you almost crackling with tension.

"Hey Angel," one of the men that's been glaring at you calls out, waving a couple of twenty dollar bills in the air. "Come give me a dance."

She doesn't even look in his direction, but you silently reach for your wallet, taking out three hundred dollar bills and pushing them under the string of her thong. "Stay."

Her eyes widen and she bites her lip before nodding. She throws her head back, hands leaving your shoulder to slide up her waist to cup her breasts, pushing them together inches away from your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have to grip your thighs to keep yourself from touching her. She rises on her knees and changes the position, her back now to your front, ass snugly against your crotch.

You finish your whiskey in one gulp, your breath hitching. Her wavy hair gets in your face and you breathe in the enticing scent of her perfume mixed with the essence of her. She turns her head, looking at you with half lidded eyes. "You like that?"

"I do," you reply, noting the slight blush rising on her cheeks.

"Want to move somewhere private?" She asks, her eager tone cracking the unbothered facade she's been putting on.

You nod and follow her to the other side of the club, Amber sending you thumbs up from behind the bar before going back to flirting with another drunk man, crisp bills filling her pockets.

You're led to a dark hallway that leads to private rooms, anticipation buzzing under your skin. She nods at the security guard, the man looking you up and down before he lets you through. She locks the door and you wander deeper into the room, taking a seat on the velvety couch.

Sensual music starts spilling from the speakers before she turns sharply, a devilish smirk on her lips. She saunters to the pole, hips swaying in tune with the music, eyes never leaving yours as she hooks her leg over the metal and twirls. She closes her eyes, losing herself in the dance, and grips the pole before bending, back arched, the swell of her ass right in front of your face.

You exhale, nearly biting down on your knuckles from the need to turn her around and fuck her right on the floor. "Angel," you breathe out. She faces you and drops to her knees, legs spread as her hips move up and down, arms over her head as she grips the pole. "Yes?"

You pat your lap and without a moment of hesitation she climbs on top of your thighs, taking off her bra. You bite back a moan when her breasts spill out, pinkish nipples begging for your mouth. She takes hold of your neck, her forehead pressed against yours as she rocks her hips on your lap, her breathing labored. She weaves languidly against your tense torso, her lips brushing against your cheek before she pulls away to settle her hands on your chest, nails scratching your white shirt.

"Fuck," you close your eyes, enjoy the press of lithe body, arousal coursing through your veins. She hums, her center flush against your thigh and you feel her wetness smear on the fabric of your slacks. Your fingers clench uselessly at your sides. "You're enjoying this," you state, searching her face for an answer.

"More than you can imagine," she whispers, grinding down on your thigh with intent. Her nipples brush against your chest and she moans quietly, repeating the motion. You unconsciously thrust up, your pelvis connecting with her heat just as she is rolling down, sending pleasure through her body. She grabs your shoulders and your eyes lock. You thrust again, intentionally this time, your palms planted firmly on the couch to add force. Her hips rock, her needy moans filling your ears.

You can't take your eyes off her.

Fuck that, you think, before planting your hands on her hips, directing her movements, and pulling her into a feverish kiss. Her lips are impossibly soft, and her tongue tastes like whiskey and some fruity cocktail she's probably had earlier. Your hands move from her hips to her breasts, squeezing.

"Yes," she moans, greedily pushing against you. "More, please."

You hesitate only for a moment before lowering your mouth to her nipple, sucking it in with hunger you didn't know you possessed. She bites on her knuckles, hiding a loud moan from the guards behind the door. Your fingers itch with the need to tear off her thong and plunge deep into her soaking pussy, claiming the most vulnerable part of the petite brunette.

"How does that feel?" Your teeth graze against the underside of her breast before you take the other nipple in your mouth, tongue sliding on the hardened nub.

"Like I'm about to come," she whimpers, messily humping on your thigh. "Need you inside," she pleads, taking hold of your hand.

You follow her lead, your fingers easily pushing her thong aside and dipping between her slick folds, strands of wetness clinging to your digits. She buckles against your hand in search of friction, and you teasingly circle her clit, pulling a delicious moan out of her lips. "Like that?" You tease, even though you're as affected as she is.

"Yes- fuck, just like that," she whimpers.

"What about the rules, Angel? You gonna tell your boss about this?"

She shakes her head. "No, I promise. Fuck the rules." She desperately clings to your wrist, pressing your palm against her heat.

It's all you need to finally thrust your fingers inside her cunt. She cries out, biting your shoulder to hide the sound, and starts moving her hips up and down, meeting your fingers halfway.

"Such a bad girl you are, Angel. Riding a stranger like a slut," you grunt, fastening your pace. Filthy sounds fill the room as your fingers keep disappearing in her pussy, bringing her closer to the edge. Suddenly, a misplaced spark of jealousy ignites something deep inside your chest. "Do you do this with everyone, Angel? Do you spread your legs for strangers every night?"

"No," she gasps, tilting your face up and bringing you in for a kiss. "Just you," she moans against your lips, "only you."

The fire inside your chest burns. "Good."

Her walls clench around you, mouth wide open as she moans loudly. You force her mouth shut, pressing your palm against her lips, her eyes widening before they roll to the back of her head. Your thumb slides on her clit in tight circles, fingers curling to touch her sweet spot. She bites down on your knuckles, desperately chasing her orgasm, arousal dripping down her thighs. You add a third finger, stretching her tight pussy, and spread them inside.

"Come for me, Angel," you rasp, pushing deep inside. She cries out, squeezing around your fingers as she comes. She curls into you, hiding her face in the slope of your neck. "Good girl," you praise, kissing her temple, your fingers buried inside her wet heat.

There's a loud knock and a gruff voice sounds from behind the door. "Everything alright, Angel?"

She sits up, eyes wide and alert, and looks at the clock near the door. Your private session ended ten minutes ago.

"I- I have to go," she scurries away, putting on her bra on her way to the door.

"Wait," you call out, catching her wrist before she could touch the handle. "Stay, please."

Her eyes flicker to your lips before she throws herself at you, hands around your waist, kissing you with fervor. You press her against the door, trailing kisses all over her neck, wishing you could leave marks for her to remember you by.

There's another knock and a threat to break down the door. Angel pulls away with one last peck before disappearing behind the door.

The rest of the week goes better after that night. You feel like the burden that's been sitting on your shoulders got smaller, granting you more hours of sleep and allowing you to look your boss in the eye without feeling inferior. You can't help but think back on the girl that so easily brought this change on you. Sometimes when you're caught up in paperwork in the late hours of night you catch yourself wishing you were back in that private room, looking at her instead of some boring corporate nonsense. Your fingers squeeze around the pen with need to touch her again, to unravel her, to savor her taste.

On a Friday night you decide to leave the office early and head to the club, but a phone call stops you in your tracks.

"Hey, hope I'm not interrupting."

You smile, always happy to hear from your friend. "You're not, I'm… heading home early."

"Great. Perfect, actually. I know it's a bit last minute, but I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight? I'm making your favorite." Sam asks, and you can hear the sound of pans hitting the stove in the background.

"What's the catch, Carpenter?"

She groans, and you can almost see her slouch against the counter. "I'm not sure if I mentioned it, but Tara is studying to be a lawyer, and I thought maybe you could give her some pointers over dinner?"

You blink, surprised by the question. In two years of your friendship with Sam you've never met her younger sister. Even though they're living together, she's never home when you're over, working double shifts to afford tuition, adamantly refusing Sam's offers to help. She likes to complain about it from time to time, but you can see she's proud of the younger girl.

Angel will be there tomorrow, and you're actually excited to finally meet Tara. It doesn't take long for you to decide which way to go. You make a quick stop at a grocery store on your way there, buying Sam's favorite beer and a bottle of wine, thinking about offering her sister an internship. If she's even half as brilliant as Sam you want her on your team once she graduates.

When you finally knock on the door, expecting to see Sam on the other side, you feel wind get knocked out of you when the woman you've been thinking about since you left the club opens it.

"... Angel?"

_______________

Thoughts?

[twiisted-king]

♢ Spider-Man Noir BF HC’S ♢

➟ Spider-Man Noir / GN!Reader 🕸️

➟ SFW / NSFW

➟ TW : 1930’s Attitudes, The Great Depression, Injuries/Blood, Sexual Content, & Smoking.

————————————————————————

— Let’s set one thing straight, he is husband material.

— The moment y’all start dating is when he starts thinking of marriage. Obviously he’s from the 1930’s so he probably thinks more in terms of “ I Man, I Husband “. I don’t think it’s to the point of being toxic though :)

— Peter has a gun, yes a gun, that he is not afraid to use especially when it comes to you. He’s always clutching you close to him whenever y’all go outside and keeping a close eye on the environment around him. He already lost Uncle Ben, he is NOT losing you too.

— A total gentleman : flowers, taking your coat, kissing your hand, he goes the whole nine yards.

— It’s hard for him to just be comfortable sometimes. Experience the Great Depression and being Spider-Man has left him a nervous wreck who just can’t calm down. He’s always expecting the worse. In other words, please treat this man like he’s the best thing in the whole world, he needs it.

— A music lover who would be even more smitten if you danced with him. He’ll hum to the tune and spin you around the livingroom with this big, goofy smile on his face.

— Peter runs off of coffee, cigarettes, and adrenaline. He doesn’t have the easiest line of even as a civilian and often works late into the night. He’s always exhausted when he gets home and just wants to fall into bed beside you.

— Is pretty always big spoon. It’s just easier since he’s more then a likely taller than you plus he likes taking on the protector role.

— A decent chef. He can definitely make a mean dinner and has learned a few tips/tricks from Aunt May.

— Patch up his wounds! He’s a good patient who just sits there with this glint of admiration in his eyes as you clean up any blood or stitch close a deeper cut. He’ll absolutely tease you by asking if you can “ kiss it better “.

— He writes sappy poetry. It’s mostly just for kicks and giggles though he can definitely whip out something that really touches your heart. He gets flustered if you thank him for the poetry and just hides his red face behind his hat Jotaro style.

— Peter wants to eventually move away from New York to somewhere much quieter. He wants to marry you and have a big house. If you want kids that’s more than okay with him and if you don’t he’s content on settling for a dog. He absolutely loves dogs.

♢ NSFW ♢

— While not the most experienced person sexually he still knows how to have a good time.

— Peter’s libido isn’t the highest and sex is more of a celebratory/occasional thing. You got a job promotion? Cool! Peter wants to bang you on the couch until the walls are white and the multiverse rips apart.

— I think Peter definitely gets aroused a lot he just doesn’t act on his feelings. He doesn’t exactly have time to take an hour away for some much needed love making.

— But when he does get that hour away? Oh boy howdy prepare yourself.

— I already discussed that there is more than likely a height difference and he takes that to his advantage. It’s easy to just scoop you up no matter how heavy you are and have sex with you right against the kitchen wall.

— Like he’ll rip your clothes off in the heat of the moment then promise to buy your another shirt later.

— RIDE 👏🏻 THIS 👏🏻 MAN 👏🏻 - He doesn’t mind just kicking back and letting you take control for a bit. He lets out the hottest noises and when you’re thighs are aching from bouncing on him? He just manually fucks you on his cock all while telling you about how nice you feel tensing around him.

— No surface in your place is safe. Kitchen counter, bed, couch .. you’ve been banged on all of them.

— Wants to stuff you full of as much of his cum as possible. He’ll cum into over and over again until your stomach is bloated with his release.

— He’s big! It can be an adjustment taking his dick and he’s fully aware of his size. He’s always whispering encouragements to you, telling you about how good you look taking him like this. His balls are big too lmao.

[parkerslatte]

Dance of Affection (Medieval!AU)

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: attempted SA. sexism. class differences. blood and injury. mild violence. smut.

Summary: Y/N works as a servant at Prythian Castle. Ever since she was born, she knew working for the Royal Family was her destiny. Her mother and father were a servant and stablehand respectively before their passing. Left alone, Y/N works as much as she can to earn money to get out of the castle walls. She longs for a life of adventure.

One day while attending to her daily duties, Y/N is cornered by one of the King’s bastard son’s and barely gets away. She is paid off to not say anything. Reluctantly, Y/N takes the money as it helps her toward her dream goal of leaving the confines of the castle.

Not long after this encounter, Y/N runs into Prince Azriel, heir to the throne. Of course she expects him to be as frightening as the other members of the Royal Family. But he is quite the opposite. While intimidating in stature, his personality is quiet and kind. An unexpected friendship ignites between the two. And that friendship eventually turns into more. There is only one issue— Azriel’s betrothed, Princess Elain.

Both Y/N and Azriel will need to overcome their complicated feelings for one another if the future of the kingdom will continue to live on. But the more Y/N thinks, the more unrealistic her feelings become. After all, she is a servant and Azriel is the future king. Their relationship should have never made any sense, yet it is all the other craves.

Current Word Count: N/A

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Contents:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Epilogue

A/N: Thank you @thalia-as-blog for this incredible idea! Originally it was only going to be an extended oneshot, but the more I thought on the idea, the more I wanted to make it into a series! So here it is!

I aim for it to have around nine parts (including an epilogue) but this could change as I am writing. If you would like to be added to the Taglist, please respond to this post or send me a message :)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: You get a glimpse into the future with Charles and Lando as fathers. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff WC: 1.5k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four

You collapsed breathless on top of Charles and let your eyes fall shut as the heat inside the SUV soared. Steam fogged the windows and the sounds of your boyfriends panting filled the small space. 

Lando hummed as he sat back on his knees and watched his release, and Charles’, leak out from you. “Missed this pretty mess you make when we fill you up.”

“Putain, oui,” Charles agreed with a deeply satisfied chuckle. “Feels amazing.”

They were absolutely right, it did feel amazing - especially when it had been almost a week since you last had sex. It was almost a record, and not one you wanted to break anytime soon.

“We should head back,” you said despite wanting to stay exactly as you were. “We should also buy something so it actually looks like we went out.”

“Pretty sure your mum knows how much you hate shopping, and do you really want to risk being spotted?”

Lando made a fair point and you climbed off Charles so you could pull your panties back up and push your dress back down. Max’s plane would be tracked to the local airport so soon everyone would know where you were hiding. You would rather savour the peace and quiet before the paparazzi started to haunt you.

Once you got to Austin there would be no place to hide.

Sitting in the backyard of the pub, you watched the sun set over the countryside backdrop with bittersweet happiness. Luka was squealing with joy as Charles tossed him high into the air and Lando was sprawled on the grass with Lio and Mila clambering over him. It was like a little glimpse into the future you would have all too soon, but it still didn’t feel real. 

“What are you doing, hiding in the corner?” Max took a seat beside you on the bench and scanned the groups that had broken off from the crowd. You could smell the gin in his drink and took a sip of your lemonade as you longed for your usual drink. It didn’t help Lando had ordered you Sprite No Sugar, you weren’t even allowed that anymore.

“Just thinking.”

“I tried that once, but it didn’t work out well for me,” he joked, nudging you with his shoulder when he didn’t get a response. “What are you thinking about?”

You sighed and shifted to face him. “Were you scared you were going to mess up Penelope?”

“No,” he scoffed. 

“Right, because you are good at everything,” you nodded solemnly. “Stupid question.”

“No, it’s because I’m not her father, and I’m not trying to be her father because she already has one. So it is not the same.” Max looked to where Lando and Charles had moved onto dancing with the kids. It probably wasn’t quite dancing, but they were all hugging each other and gently swaying to the music. “You three are going to be fine. You’ve got the responsible parent, the fun one and the worrier.”

“I don’t really want to know who you think is who,” you chuckled, feeling a little better. But another thought had plagued you and there was only one person you could admit it to without fear of judgement. “This is going to sound terrible, but I wish she was a boy.”

Max’s brows shot up his face. “Why?”

You toyed with the condensation running down your glass, drawing little pictures as you spoke. “What if she wants to race? It’s in her blood but this industry is tough on girls, Max. I don’t want her going through the same bullshit I had to.”

“You’re worrying about something that is at least 15 years away, zusje. A lot can change in that time. Plus, she will have you, her fathers and a scary uncle who have been there to make sure she gets treated right.”

You looked across at the young man struggling to understand the horse-riding terms Flo was talking about. “Arthur’s not that scary.”

You laughed at the indignant sound Max made. “Okay, you’re right, you’re right. I don’t need to worry about that now. I just need to get through the rest of the season watching someone else race my car.”

“Checo’s contract is up next year, maybe Red Bull will beg you to come back?”

Your laughter caught the attention of your boyfriends and they smiled at the sound before making their way over. “Yeah, that ain’t happening, they can beg all they want - I would rather be seatless.”

Max turned serious. “They saw your data, you know, when you used my sim. It was the best time anyone has pulled from the car. It was impressive as hell.”

“Well if you want personal driving lessons I am happy to assist. I’ll even give you a family discount.”

Max snickered in amusement as the seats opposite the bench were taken. “Now that you are once again unemployed.”

“Don’t let her mother hear you say that,” Lando warned, only half joking. “She’s not unemployed.”

“Yeah,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I have the best job in the world now as a human incubator. Me and Vick can be ladies of leisure together.”

“She prefers the term influencer,” Max corrected sarcastically.

“What’s the difference?” Charles asked.

“There isn’t any. Now will you come and dance?”

You accepted Lando’s hand and followed him to the outdoor lights that had been turned on.

“Nutty!” Mila called as she ambled towards you with grabby hands. 

“So close, sweetie,” you laughed as you dropped Lando’s hand to pick her up. “Aunty. Aunt-tee.”

“Nutty is kind of accurate,” Max teased as he walked past to where Kelly was talking with Vicky. He did pause for a second as he watched you spin around with Mila and blow a raspberry onto her neck making the toddler giggle. “Zusje, you’re gonna be fine.” 

You looked up over the top of her curls that were only a few shades lighter than Lando’s and found sincerity in your brother's eyes. “Thanks, Max.”

A pair of arms encircled you and Charles’ chin came to rest on your shoulder. “My dance partner has been stolen.”

Lando spun past with Penelope in his arms and you kissed Charles’ cheek. “Mila, look at Dodo, he thinks he’s a better dancer than us.”

She narrowed her eyes at her uncle dancing with the four year old and her brows furrowed before she squirmed to be put down. “Oops, I think someone is a little jealous,” Charles chuckled, pulling you into his arms while you watched with amusement as she made Lando pick her up too. “Should we save him?”

“Nah, he’ll need to learn how to deal with two females soon enough.” You placed your head on Charles’ shoulder and followed his lead, swaying gently to the music that probably demanded more energy.

“You seem happier,” he commented softly.

“It’s amazing what a little sex in a secluded forest can do for the soul.”

Charles laughed and kissed your forehead, his smile etched on your skin. “Chérie, what we did could hardly be called ‘little’ but even afterwards you still weren’t…I don’t know what the word is…you seem more like yourself.”

You smiled a little as he stumbled over the words. “I’m getting there.”

“I know you will.” He gave up the pretence of dancing and just held you as Lando extracted himself from the girls and they ran off to their mothers before making his way to join you. “We will make sure of it.”

Lando’s warm body pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you to hold Charles’ hips. “So I was thinking of names…Tulip.”

“Um, no.”

“Hear me out, it’s kind if Dutch and it’s a flower which is pretty cool-”

“Non, mon cher, keep thinking.”

“Daisy?”

You shook your head and he groaned as he was shut down again. “Daphne?”

It was your turn to groan. “No more Bridgerton for you.”

“Clover?”

You paused and his grin widened. “I’m not opposed to that one, but keep brainstorming.”

“How about Juniper?”

“Daddy, where does my name come from?” you asked in a higher pitched voice as you wrinkled your nose.”Well mummy drank lots and lots of Gin one night and that is how you were made.”

“Oh, right,” Lando laughed awkwardly. “I forgot it’s in Gin.”

“It is a good thing we have time,” Charles hummed, holding you both tighter. “There’s no rush finding the perfect name.”

Lando conceded for the moment and fell silent, and you felt content to stay cocooned until your stomach rumbled louder than the music. Your warmth disappeared as they stepped away laughing. “Come on, love. Dinner should be ready.”

Click here for the next part.

[loveshotzz]

kitchen? 😏

Just a little something i’ve been plugging away at since @palmtreesx3 put the idea of us wearing AIRWIY!steve’s baseball jersey from chapter nine and what that would do to him. It spiraled into our first sleep over at his house and him cooking us breakfast the next morning. Here’s a little snippet for you baby.

18+ - fem!reader, age gap, older!steve, fingering

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him, chest puffing out a little more just for you. Licking his full pink lips, they pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you giggle before you slip your hand into his palm, watching with glazed eyes when it disappears in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, while he grins down at you like someone who just won the grand prize at the fair. He wraps an arm around you to keep you from leaving, letting go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his turn soft, with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, the palm on your back squeezing you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he gets because of it, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meeting in the middle with eager enthusiasm, front teeth scraping together as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. He’s met with the bare swell of your ass when he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, and you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by your own gasp when two thick fingers trace a line up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine and your knees shake.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows bunch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out, eyes rolling back when he spreads you apart.

[sl4sh3rsub]

art the clown hcs (nsfw: mdni)

art the clown x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: so so much. unhygienic behaviour, p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), creampies, fingering (receiving), overstimulation (receiving), dubious consent + cnc (with art), noncon (with [sometimes intoxicated] victims + art, not with reader), art is mute, reader is put on display and used as bait for art's activities, art makes his own snuff?? idk but there's sexual stuff with dead bodies + art in the same vicinity, masturbation, blood kink but lots of blood in general, gore, mentions of injury and giving injury (not on reader), public sex/exhibitionism, oral (giving + receiving), rimming (giving), period sex, cumrag, sexual photographs taken of/for reader, art goes commando, scarification, art is a switch - if only to commit to the bit, fear play (empty guns, dull knives), bondage (reader receiving), cum eating, somnophilia, shoe humping, cum tributes, feet stuff mentioned, musk kink, corruption kink mentioned?, mtf section mentions art performing an orchiectomy

a/n: kinda edited. he's so nine inch nails/orgy coded and the movies are so scary that i chickened out rewatching parts of terrifier 2 pls forgive me :3 the first dot point is to set the mood, sorry but it gets right into it

READ THE WARNINGS this one's very intense - please, if you think this might be too much for you or just uncomfortable, skip this one.

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

art will put on a home video of him torturing and toying with someone while you're held between his legs - he wants to have a fun little viewing party for his recent exploits! he toys with your hole, teasing you as his cock ruts into your lower back. the sinister clown ignores the thrashing of your legs as he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of your poor, tired body. the only time he lets up, giving a break from his constant stimulation on your sweet spots, is when he pauses to mimic a wave or jolly dance in the video he's showing you. the way your slick arousal thins and connects his fingers whenever he waves at the screen would be comical if your head wasn't so fuzzy from the constant edging. he loves tormenting people but the methods for you are a bit more... delicious

whenever he comes home injured, he patiently sits propped against a wall as you tend to his weeping wounds. judging by the ripped clown suit and gashes littering his skin, it was evidently a rough night. he doesn't bother to tell you that he will heal at abnormally fast speeds, he just loves the sight of his blood smeared on your skin. while you bandage art up, the gauze ends up giving him more coverage than his shredded suit - he meets your gaze with a sly grin as he thrusts up into your hand, showing what he has to offer. you'll have to ignore the drying blood all over the two of you, as he rushes to pull your face into of his lap to let out some pent-up energy :<

he's always so playful whenever you both get down and dirty, whether it's pulling surprised expressions whenever you cum, dragging his finger down from your lips to your throat to shush you or flick your nipples only to giggle at your surprised face

if art is not in the mood to trudge home alone after a rampage, he'll text you an address to meet him at. to no one's surprise, it's always a laundromat. he loves to fuck you in the empty establishments while his clothing is in a washing cycle - after all, it would be rude to get your clothing dirty while he's taking you from behind over a dryer. he pays extra attention to getting off and finishing inside you as a way to wind down from a wild time, his creamy release dripping onto the floor. guess you'll have to bust out the mop on shaky legs while art cheerily dresses himself and patiently waits for you on the bench next to the window - he can't help but admire his special person and be proud of how he made them come undone

his favourite way to wake up is to have his throbbing cock in your mouth, his gaze half-lidded as you work your hand along his length and envelop him with your soft lips. art is addicted to you sloppily gagging on him, spit and precum drooling down his balls. his huffs of pleasure gracing your ears are the sweetest part of any early morning

whenever you finish giving art head, kiss his tip softly after swallowing, making sure to slurp up his cum from dribbling down his shaft and he'll trace a heart on your forehead with your tears from gagging on him. if you meet his gaze as you catch your breath, he'll quietly shush and tut at you in reassurance while you rest your cheek against his bare thigh, petting your hair

the clown likes to play a game where he captures male victims he's focused on, strips them down, then ties them up in a row and gags them. he makes them watch as he pleasures you in front of them, spread on display as he mocks them and their tears, all while you come undone on his cock and fingers. he punishes the one that gets hard first (away from you, of course - he drags the guy to the next room to deal with later). art puts you on display in front of the remaining men, dons a shitty wig and red lipstick then slowly jerks off the softest person as they gradually get more aroused at the sight of you playing with yourself and moaning for art to fuck you. art is overall most turned on by other people watching you without touching what's his - he loves showing you off and feeling proud that they could never pleasure you like he could :3

art fucks you against the windows of buildings he's snuck into - he loves giving an eyeful for his potential victims and he's not above tempting them into the building he's camped out in with the false promise of joining in

he has certain hand signals for you to bend over, drop your pants or get on your knees. it's not in an intimidating dominant way, it's simply out of necessity as he cannot verbally order you to do anything in the bedroom

your pleasure is not the priority all the time - art's main goal is for him to feel good, however he may realise that certain things make you squeeze his cock perfectly and as a result, your orgasms are a coincidental byproduct of his lust

art is a sucker for being balls deep inside you when he cums but he also enjoys painting your sloppy hole - an excellent view, plus there's so much to scoop up and finger deep back inside you

whenever he cums, art's tummy tenses and his thighs spasm as his eyes roll backwards. his chest shudders as his breathing gets shaky, needing to grab onto something to steady himself. his cum itself is generally thick but whenever you remind him to drink water, it'll get very thin and watery. it's important to note, his cum colour fluctuates between a regular milk colour and pitch black goop

art the clown freeballs in his satin costume, just hangin out for the sake of convenience and simplicity - if he's needing to piss, rub one out or get undressed to sleep, why should underwear be in the way? he's an absolute pervert, so he loves you seeing his dick whenever you look at him

force him have a shower - not even a bath, the water would get dirty too quick. caked layers of metallic blood and dirt don't help anyone's general scent and if he's around you a lot, you don't want a smelly clown trailing you and in your general vicinity

he wanders around naked after he takes a hot shower, when his costume is drying and his painted neck is waiting to be properly touched up. expect to see his bare dick twitch while you stare in shock, mouth hanging open at his blatant lack of shame in his nudity. the same thing applies to whenever the clown suit has a hole in it - at this point it's any excuse to be in the nude and flaunting his body around, the tapered tip of his cock always pulsing under your bashful eye

art carves his name into you - or something like 'art was here', 'art's art' or 'art's toy' - but you get to choose where! in his mind, it's like a collaborative effort :<

he's addicted to your warmth and tightness, so be ready to have his pasty cock buried in you whenever there's nothing to do. he'll pull you onto his lap while bunched up and all tense, pull down your underwear and spit on his length, slowly sliding into you as his muscles release all tension. he's practically a limp puddle once he's deep inside - he's comfortable enough to nap like this and will cuddle you until you feel the same way. the bastard will occasionally toot his horn to scare you into clenching around his softly throbbing dick

his love language is physical touch - his hand is always hovering near your hip, ass or lower back and he pats your cheek or kisses your temple if you've been good, petting your hair as you doze off next to him. his version on an 'i love you' is a warm palm cupping your face as he intertwines his body with yours, your muscles relaxing as you lean into his heat

the clown always, always leaves deep bites and bruises all over your body. prepare to have painkillers at every single meal, because he makes sure you're aching and bleeding when he's done with you after a rough day

as he doesn't make you participate in his meals of flesh and rubbish, expect to have his victim's homecooked leftovers, as well as pizza and other take-out regularly - all with a little extra salty glaze ontop <3 he's a romantic after all and still wants a small part of him inside you no matter what, that way you're never really lonely - his warmth settling in your tummy and also leaking from between your legs

art marks up your neck with his tongue and nails, leaving crescent moons and maroon roses etched into your skin like a morbid necklace. although he's not happy that you don't heal abnormally fast like he does, your shudders as his cold nails trail over your tender flesh spark a warmth within his gut and a glint in his eye

art chokes you so often that his hand is practically your necklace. he likes the control he's able to exercise subtly with a squeeze of his fingers and you don't mind the comforting pressure of his thumb skimming over your pulse. be sure to wash his gloves often thought - whenever you drool or have given him head and his hand then takes its place around your throat, the remnants of the fluids often soak into the material clinging to his palms. eventually, it'll make his skin tacky with dried cum and spit, stuck to the threadbare gloves

his guilty pleasure is having you ride him and take control, with zero regard for accidentally overstimulating him - sure he could breed you of his own volition, in his own time, but he's your toy in that moment with no control. the coincidental creampie being fucked deeper and deeper in you makes a shiver run down his spine. he's willing to be a pliable doll for you to mould into a quiet fuck toy to play with. be sure to hold art close and comfort him after you take control and he'll do the same back after he's been rough

art gets his hands on incredibly dull knives and empty guns with no magazine, especially pistols, and brings them into your sexual life. he loves the fear in your eyes as he trails the blades down your chest, tracing your nipples and thighs but the clown is especially turned on by making you suck the barrel of a gun - pretty eyes glittering in panic and arousal. he makes a game of rigging a shotgun with tripwires - if you shift too much while he trails his tongue down your body or thrash as he makes you cum on his face, the threat of the trigger being pulled gives you a rush of adrenaline that makes your eyes roll back, vision fading white. his gun fixation is not limited to just that - some other ideas he's been cooking up include you being fucked by a dead cop's handgun while humping his clown shoe, as well as you christening each new weapon he creates during his tinkering sessions

if he's desperate to jerk off, he'll do it wherever - ready to get it over with even if he ends up rubbing one out next to a dead body or in the middle of a public park. if he returns to you with dirty gloves and semen drying on the wrist, don't ask what happened because his mimed description of events is never pleasant

art sits on your face and gets off with his fist while you fuck him with your tongue, lapping at his hole. he tosses his head back and pants very softly, thighs trembling as he grinds himself on your face - bonus points if you let him pull back and fuck your mouth with his cock for a bit before returning to suffocate you between his asscheeks

he loves licking your skin everywhere. absolutely everywhere. he loves the taste of your salty sweat and warmth, feeling powerful having your pulse race under his tongue. if you fuck him, stuff your fingers in his mouth and his eyes will roll back in his skull

art suspends you with chains and rope, teasing you until you're begging to be fucked. his deft fingers trace your curves and edges, flicking and pinching your nipples, inner thighs and ass as he manically grins with a clear cock print in the front of his suit. he only maneuvers you to take his cock once you're dripping spit, tears and arousal onto the cold floor and screaming for him

as art knows you belong to him, sharing you with another man gets him going like nothing else - he'll eiffel tower you with a restrained captive, urging you to choke on the stranger's hardening dick as he fucks you so deep you're gasping for air and seeing stars. what's gonna happen, the guy survives? fuck no, he's already practically giftwrapped at death's doorstep just from becoming art's captive. why not make the last few hours of his life enjoyable and more than fulfilling - if the poor sod is willing, you could even keep him for a night or two as a pet

if you have genital, nipple piercings or even a septum done, art will dangle a little bell from each hoop. it immediately brightens his day to hear the little jingles whenever you're bouncing on his dick and he can't resist flicking them to make you jolt or smacking your ass whenever you walk near him just to hear the sweet soft tinkle under your loose clothing

art cleans up each basement/house he temporarily stays in, with a designated bed to fit the two of you and ensures there's a bathroom and basic laundry attached for your comfort - he notices you tend to avoid his being in his proximity whenever he gets too smelly. he may also move in with you for bouts of time - provided you have the space - but also camps out at his usual haunts and drags you along to hang out with him! the poor clown hates being lonely :(

he might go on a walk with you and toy with you - he gets off on watching you panic as he whips his dick out in public and gestures for you to kiss it, rub your face over it and worship him, hard or not. the control he holds over you and the headrush of power, combined with your submissive gaze aimed up at him, makes his growing affection and attachment towards you grow stronger

he brings you human organs and shitty handwritten poems - 'here's a heart but i wanna be the one pumping inside of you <:o)' or 'i could call you this esophagus the way you swallowed me so well last night >:)'

he has a collection of picture frames in his hideout because he takes photos of you and sticks them in nice frames - who needs playboy magazines when he can make tributes to you? you can tell which one is his favourite, with the crusty sludge stuck to the glass and wood protecting the flimsy picture

art definitely wants a footjob every now and then, every once in a while. it means he can tie up your hands while you get him off AND he still has two hands to play with you - a win win situation all around. he's not really into it strictly because it's feet, he just gets off on the thought of corrupting you more with such a taboo action

he has a love-hate relationship with piss too - he loves to have you obediently under him as he showers you with piss and cum, corrupting you a little more each time he marks you with his smell, but he hates because it masks your natural scent which is one of the few things that makes his head spin

if you get anxious or restless, he always has a cold body nearby.. oh you want something warmer? feel free to suckle on his soft cock or his sac while you cuddle his leg and fidget with the cloth of his pantleg

although he's gotten a lot better at regulating his personal hygiene since you met him, he doesn't always clean himself up - the musky and tangy stench of blood, sweat and grime permeates his suit until he scrubs clean

art loves it when you do filthy things for his pleasure, like sniffing his armpits while humping him or rimming him with his sweaty balls resting on your nose, making your brain go dumb

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

whenever art is thinking about being away for a few days to camp out at a certain location, he'll grab himself a clean rag and dedicate an entire night to getting you to cum on the cloth as many times as possible. it wouldn't be a pair of underwear from either of you - he hates wearing any type of clothing under the suit, even if it's your cum stained boxers - so it'd have to be a ripped piece of cloth from an old clown outfit. he'll jack you off and fuck you while holding it over your tip and even gag on your cock until the flimsy material is coated and probably permanently stained in your spend. he just wants a keepsake for the road and why not make it imbued with memories of the two of you enjoying yourselves? his own little cumrag to remember what he has back home, something special to return to!

art will ask you to be bait for him - either through stripping down sensually and pressing your bulge and ass against the windows of art’s current setup to entice horny, often intoxicated, onlookers late at night or indulging catcallers and inviting them to get it on with you back at the designated building, caressing their chest and crotch as you both giggle and meander inside. the clown always has your back and would not let you get hurt by the strangers at all, but the bait portion of his plan is extremely important to lull the victims into an optimistic headspace for them to ignore the shady setting

art craves the sensation of you throbbing under his tongue, the feeling of your pulse as you leak your pleasure all over his lips and the heavy musky taste slips down his throat

he'll get you a cute, sparkly plastic ring from a gachapon machine down at the arcade and fake proposes to you! later in the week, he'll break into a sex shop and bring home a matching cock ring (he's a romantic)

art has an obsession with your balls - nipping at them, having them slap against his chin or nose bridge as he messily takes as much as he can down his throat, you name it. expect greasepaint at the base of your cock and staining your pubes

he scrapes his nails down your back whenever you fuck his tight ass, pale cock bobbing and leaking everywhere. he adores marking up your back with the red ridges of broken skin as he cums all over your chests, shooting warmth up and splattering it on your flushed neck

if he's on top and riding, he'll put all his weight into choking you while he bounces up and down on your cock, eyes glinting with pride at your gasped thanks whenever he pulls you back from the brink of unconsciousness

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

art is obsessed with you whenever it's 'that time of the month' - you can barely get away from his wandering hands and quiet presence. he drops everything the moment you reach for your favourite snacks and heat pack, drags over a dark towel he keeps on hand for you. ever since he learnt that orgasms help relieve cramps and pain, he has felt a lot less selfish for wanting to ravage you while you're tender and bleeding. he has numerous photos of his bloodied cock framed by your ass cheeks or your warm cunt and he often takes videos on your phone of his length throbbing and oozing copious amounts of pink cum <3

art has an addiction to taking upskirt pictures of your puffy pussy imprint against your thin, practically see-through panties, still slick despite your embarrassment. his guilty pleasure is taking the pics when his cum is leaking from your hole, soaking the fabric

art will ask you to be bait for him - either through stripping down sensually and pressing your chest, ass and pussy against the windows of art’s current setup to entice horny, often intoxicated, onlookers late at night or indulging catcallers and inviting them to get it on with you back at the designated building, caressing their chest and crotch as you both giggle and meander inside. the clown always has your back and would not let you get hurt by the strangers at all, but the bait portion of his plan is extremely important to lull the victims into an optimistic headspace for them to ignore the shady setting

art pretends to talk and communicate with your cunt - acting out gestures as if holding a conversation with your clit while slowly coaxing you to cum and even gesturing at you to shush if you try to interrupt the important moment

eats devours pussy like a demon, a man starved. no hesitance and no restraint, he’s the type to suckle open mouthed kisses to your clit and fucks your dripping hole with his abnormally long tongue. nipping at your folds as he coaxes you to the edge with just a finger, tongue swirling in your slick as you cum - he is sloppy in his work but enthusiastically diligent with the cleanup, not a drop gets past his mouth. greasepaint might stain your thighs afterwards but it's a small price to pay for a talented clown's best efforts

art will find pretty lingerie for you to wear for him, parading around his hideout, making sure you know how hard he gets at your nipples and pussy covered delicately in lace

he flicks and circles your clit while you sleep, cumming all over your pussy before putting your panties back in place. he loves leaving little presents like that for you when you wake - a fuzzy head and a sticky and throbbing mess down there, strings and globs of cum connecting your thighs and the flimsy, soaked material

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

art has never had a handsome toy with a self-lubricating hole before - his fascination with your t-dick leads to endless nights of him experimenting on you with his mouth, fingers and cock to see what makes you tick. his favourite pastime is suckling on your tender dick while he pulses his fingers against your cervix, your whole body jerking from sensitivity as his deft fingers circle your sweet spots

art will ask you to be bait for him - either through stripping down sensually and pressing your chest, ass and boypussy against the windows of art’s current setup to entice horny, often intoxicated, onlookers late at night or indulging catcallers and inviting them to get it on with you back at the designated building, caressing their chest and crotch as you both giggle and meander inside. the clown always has your back and would not let you get hurt by the strangers at all, but the bait portion of his plan is extremely important to lull the victims into an optimistic headspace for them to ignore the shady setting

he keeps a pair of your slick-stained boxers in his ol' bag of tricks, a little keepsake for his on-the-go orgasms - he's a sniffer for sure, securing it over his face so both his hands are free to use on his dick as he gets off to your scent

he scrapes his nails down your back whenever you fuck his tight ass, pale cock bobbing and leaking everywhere. he adores marking up your back with the red ridges of broken skin as he cums all over your chests, shooting warmth up and splattering it on your flushed neck

eats devours boypussy like a demon, a man starved. no hesitance and no restraint, he’s the type to suckle open mouthed kisses to your cock and fucks your dripping hole with his abnormally long tongue. nipping at your folds as he coaxes you to the edge with just a finger, tongue swirling in your slick as you cum - he is sloppy in his work but enthusiastically diligent with the cleanup, not a drop gets past his mouth. you both tiredly giggle after he's done - the face paint around his cheeks and lips is hopelessly smudged, especially after he licks his lips and grins at you. guess he'll have to redo it later, no harm done <3

he fucks you so hard and bruises your cervix to the point where you can only moan his name and whine when he properly pulls out and gives you water with a heatpack and blanket, genuinely scared he went too rough on your insides. if your legs fail after such a long night, he'll throw you over his shoulder or pick you up like royalty and use his inhuman strength to carry you around

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

art the clown is thrilled to have a pretty toy with parts he's familiar with! his fingers nudge your prostate as he suckles on your tip to draw out your sweet noises. he takes you down his throat with ease, tongue lapping at your base - the combination of art's deft fingers working your hole and his hot throat clenching your length brings you to the edge embarrassingly fast. he's always had a thing for seeing his black lip paint smeared on your balls

art has an addiction to taking upskirt pictures of your bulge imprint against your thin, practically see-through panties, slick from your precum drooling and sticking to the fabric despite your embarrassment. his guilty pleasure is taking the pics when his cum is leaking from your hole

he insists on battering your prostate until you're shooting blanks - he never lets up on your poor hole until you're fully spent and your head is empty with only his name on your pretty lips

art will ask you to be bait for him - either through dressing up prettily and then stripping down sensually and pressing your bulge, chest and ass against the windows of art’s current setup to entice horny, often intoxicated, onlookers late at night or indulging catcallers and inviting them to get it on with you back at the designated building, caressing their chest and crotch as you both giggle and meander inside. the clown always has your back and would not let you get hurt by the strangers at all, but the bait portion of his plan is extremely important to lull the victims into an optimistic headspace for them to ignore the shady setting

he scrapes his nails down your back whenever you fuck his tight ass, pale cock bobbing and leaking everywhere. he adores marking up your back with the red ridges of broken skin as he cums all over your chests, shooting warmth up and splattering it on your flushed neck

the clown loves to have you dolled up in lingerie and parading infront of him, bulge and hard nipple pressed against the soft and dainty fabric. his cock gets visibly hard at the sight of you and his head spins at the sensation as you shyly offer to help with his urge to take you then and there

if you're desperate for gender-affirming surgery, art will hone his skills in surgery and sterilization to safely give you an orchiectomy - pun intended. he'll practice and go through the motions for weeks if it means you are happy and he gets to care for you

_ _ _ _ _

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it, i'm writing this at 5am. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

_ _ _ _ _

@stonerinthelonlycorner

[reverie-verse]

Heyy I saw you were looking for ACOTAR requests and I was wondering if you could write a fic where reader leaves massive hickeys on Az and he doesn't notice until breakfast the next morning where the entire IC tease him for it especially Rhysand and Cassian and one of them asks if Az is mated to a vampire and Az is acting all shy but he secretly loves knowing reader marked him😵

Azriel Shadowsinger x Reader- She’s Definitely a Love Vampire

Okay soooo I didn’t make the reader an actual vampire, but rather she was hinted as a ‘love vampire’ because why not 😂.

Sorry if the energy is a little off, I’ve been watching The Office, New Girl and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. sooooo it might be a little funny 😂😂😂

Annnnnnnddddd there’s a little snippet of smut. I might’ve gone overboard😬😁

Hope you enjoy!!! My requests are open!

————————————

Azriel had rolled over onto his side, he didn’t need to reach his hand out to know you weren’t there, through the bond he could feel how awake your thoughts were. He could feel how focused you were on getting ready for work. You walked out of the bathroom fixing your hair and your clothes, normally you would’ve been gone by now, but you ended up in bed a little longer. Azriel had propped himself up on an elbow, the silk sheet draped over his middle, bare, toned chest and abs on display, his hair tousled from sleep and the events from the previous night. Azriel already smirking at you causing you to roll your eyes, you walked over to the bed leaning down pecking him on the lips. The kiss ended up becoming more, a distraction as he sneakily reached a hand over grabbing onto your arm tugging you back towards the bed. You chuckled into the kiss as you pulled back you shook your head “ No, I can't. I'm already late as it is and you’re late for training.”

“ They won’t even notice that I’m not there, Stay” He whispers, the hand that grabbed your arm, switches to cup the underside of your jaw pulling you closer to his face. His shadows dance along the curve of your spine and into your hair. You fought the urge to give in, though every part of you wanted to right then and there. Azriel could feel it, he was just as determined to capture just as you were determined to resist. By now your body was half way onto the bed, one leg pressed into the mattress, your other leg stretched out, your toes stretching out so that you could stay attached to the floor.

“ Yes they will-“

Azriel half closed his eyes as he only hummed, his nose bumped against yours. “-No they won’t, stay Y/N.” he whispers again. The same hand that gripped your jaw slipped to the back of your head gripping your perfectly styled hair. You bit back a whimper fighting off every instinct you had, you really wanted to cave in, Azriel was there for it. He just needed to push you a little further.

He brushes his lips to yours teasingly, barely passing as a kiss let alone a peck. He instead nips at your bottom lip like you had done to him many times even last night. You tried to pull back but his massive hand held onto your head holding you in place, you instinctively reached for his wrist to pry him off. “ Az” you whispered, trying to bring him down from his heat of the moment. It did nothing, rather his lips glided down towards your neck finding your sweet a little too quickly. Your breath hitches, you grip his arm. You were about to become a liquid form of yourself in less then a second, yet you made a quick minute decision. You placed a hand on his chest pushing him back, you decided to add a little-art to the Shadowsinger.

“Let me take care of you” You whispered, choosing to play his game. Azriel didn’t budge as you pushed him back, a twinkle in his eyes suggested that he was intrigued by your feeble attempt at dominating him. But even then his own dominance outweighed yours, it was cute really, how you thought you could pull a switch on him, rookie mistake.

“ Feeling dominant are we?” He says, you felt the blood beneath your skin become hotter by the second, desire now burning through you. You were practically frozen in place, the plan you did have of teasing him with a handjob was out the window. His smirk turning into a victorious smile “ That’s adorable, really, but I’ve got a better idea”

“ fuck me..” you whine, you drop your head, knowing that this would be the end of you.

“ That’s the plan”, He pulls you on the bed, the covers floating as you collapse onto the mattress. Forget about going to work on time and forget about training. There just wasn’t going to be enough time to do it all. Not with him around and not with you around, but you both figured that it was because of your newfound mating bond that may or may not be a few years old. Still, it was fresh and new as the first time the two of you found each other.

—————-

It was breakfast time, Azriel hadn’t shown up for training and you were extremely late to work. You worked with Madja, she was training you to become the next inner circle healer. Much to her dismay she let it slide, she knew that the two of you were inseparable and that this was inevitable.. It was a fate she accepted when the male members of the inner circle had started falling off one by one, struck with immense love…Azriel had walked into the dining area of the town home. He had planned to leave for the River house. What he hadn’t expected was his brothers and his friends to be sitting at the table eating their breakfast to their heart's content. They buzzed with conversation, Nuala and Cerridwen walking to the table setting another morning dish down, Elain following not far behind with drinks in her hand.

“ Finally! Rhys and I were about to go up there and dump a bucket of cold water on you!” Cassian beams, as he stabs his food with a fork getting ready to shovel it down. Mor cringes at the sight muttering the words “Pig”. He smirks at her with a mouth full of food. Nesta on the other hand had chosen to converse with her sister Elain. Mor, Amren and Feyre engaged in their own conversation.

“Now we don’t have to, But I trust you had a good reason why you didn’t show up for training.” Rhys says as he watches his brother take a seat and begin piling food onto the plate before him. Azriel hated it when Rhys poked into his mind looking for something, or more the reason why he didn’t show up for training. The truth is, Rhys didn’t need to take a peek into his mind, the answer was before him, Azriel had no idea.

Azriel chooses to ignore his brother's piercing gaze“ I overslept,” He says simply.

“ Of course, you must’ve had a long night then?” Rhys responds leaning back in his seat, his elbow resting against the forearm, tucking his hand under his chin. He stares at him, a slow smile crawling along his face.

“ Something like that” Azriel refused to give anything up the night before. Not that it was anyone’s business.

“ Ooooooooo Azriel got laid-” Cassian smirked, as he stated the obvious. He goes to take a drink out of his cup when Feyre reaches over smacking his arm. “-oooww, Feyre?!”

“ Cass!” She raise her eyebrows at him.

“ You are a half minded child.” Mor stares at him in annoyance.

“I am surrounded by imbeciles” Amren mutters going back to her food.

“ What?! He’s got hickeys on his neck! They look like giant raspberries!” Cassian points out. All conversations cease, all eyes land on Azriel, who stops mid eating. Different expressions filled the room, Feyre shared a knowing look with Rhys and Elain, Cassian flabbergasted that everyone was mad at him. Nesta remained emotionless, Amren ignored the situation reaching for her glass to drink from. Mor’s mouth had practically hung open, as her gaze shifted from one side to the other. Azriel dropped his fork and knife onto his plate abruptly, he quickly removed himself from the seat rushing to the nearest mirror he could find. The conversation that was once halted began again. Voices booming and shouting throwing many theories.

“Oh by the cauldron” Mor whispers, her mind can’t grasp what she witnessed.

“You, busy bodies make me want to rip my ears off” Amren rolled her eyes.

“Rhysie? Feyre? Elain? Who's the girl?” Cassian questions

“ Why must you feel the need to assume we know” Rhys defends

“ You have Daemati powers, so do you, Feyre! And Elain oooo Elain you can see the future, you could’ve told us!”

“ Oh no, do not drag me into this!” She shakes her head as she waves her gentle hand in the air. Future visions were a hit or miss, she chose not to peek into anyone’s lives unless they asked.

“ He’s-but he’s so-and he never-I mean when did he-when was the last time-“ Mor was practically talking to herself as she tried to figure out the timeline. Feyre leaned over patting Mors hand as she stayed lost in thought. Feyre tried her hardest not to giggle. The yelling and the arguing continued all around. Azriel entered the bathroom, he never checked to see if you’d left a mark before going down to the kitchen. If there were marks then you’d heal them before anyone could ever notice. It's too late now. Dark pinkish purple blotches of hickeys were littered along the columns of his neck, they inch closer to his adams apple, and near the ending the collar of his leathers. His fingers danced along the area, brief images of you flashed through his mind.

Your hair completely undone, your clothes thrown over the bed, Azriel leaned back against the pillows, your hands placed on his chest holding you upright. The sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping against skin, filled the room, both of your moans repeating in unison. He let you grind and bounce against him but at one point your pace was beginning to slow down and you needed some help. His grip on your hips moved across your back to the back of your neck securing you to his chest. His other hand moved to grip the area between your ass and thigh, he lifted his legs and hips as he pounded into you relentlessly harder, his pace picking up in speed. Each time he kept hitting that one spot. Your breath catches in your throat every now and then, your lips feverishly kissing and nipping at his beautiful skin, you were encouraging him to keep going. Azriel enjoyed it, thrived on it.

Your hands that were in his hair released their hold, you reached to grip his arms, the sheets, the headboard anything, You whined and moaned the pleasure becoming overwhelmingly delicious. “ Fuck-Az-“

“ Feels good doesn’t it?” He hums with you as he rolls his hips hitting impossibly deeper into you. At this point you were becoming a babbling mess, drool was starting to slip past your lips. “You love it when I fuck you like this, needy and cock drunk” his shadows, moved to assist him, a few wrap themselves around your thighs helping their master, while the others moved to toy with your clit.

“ Ah-Ah-mmm-“ You whined

“ Yeah?” He chuckled darkly as he brought your lips back to his, as he swallowed your moans-

Banging on the door caught his attention, he heaved a quiet sigh as he yanked it open, Rhys leaned against the door, Cassian Standing directly behind him. To which Cassian scrunches his face “It looks like you got attacked by a Love vampire”

Azriel tilted his head “ Earlier you said they look like Giant Raspberries”

“ Of course but up close they look like vampire bits” Cassian squints, his eyes as he moves closer to get a good look at him. Rhys gets squished into the door, as the big man with wings tries to make it through.

Rhys turned his head towards his brother behind him “My fearsome brother, General of the Illryians is calling someone a Love Vampire. I do worry about you Cass.” Azriel fought the urge to laugh as tried to understand what his brother was getting at. Rhys turned so his back could rest against the threshold crossing his arms. His eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

“ I am a fearsome General-Don’t- Listen a Love vampire is a vampire who thrives on love. That’s what I think she is” Cassian was extremely positive in his idea that he worked on the minute he seen Azriel’s hickeys.

“ You seem oddly confident, that she is a-” Azriel replies.

“ -Love vampire” Rhys finishes for him.

“I’m serious!” Cassian swears.

“ How long has this been going on?” Rhys waves off Cassian as he questions his brother, Cassian rolled his eyes before nodding his head in agreement. Azriel uncrossed his arms scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks reddened slightly, under the gaze of his brothers who poked at his love life, it was uh- different. It wasn’t something he was used to. He’s kept you in the dark for so long now the truth is out. Not that he was mad about it, but he was nervous and shy, this wasn’t how he planned it.

“ About three years. I only found out she was my mate a year ago. The snap took place when you returned home..” He says, Rhys’s face contorted into surprised, Cassian gasps.

“ How did you meet this Love Vampire?” Cassian asks as he now crosses his own arms.

“ Cass she’s not a love vampire. She’s fae and I met her in the training room, Madja has an apprentice.”

“ Ahh lovely Y/N. She’s been helping Amren with adjusting to her new, Fae body. Does Y/N make you happy?” Rhys asks softly.

“ Yes”

“ THE Y/N?????? WHAT?????!!!!!!” Cassian booms, causing both Rhys and Azriel to glare at their dear brother. “ I can’t believe this! -Feyre call for Y/N!”

“ What?!” Feyre calls out from the dining room.

“ CALL FOR Y/N!”

“ Cass I don’t think that’s necessary” Rhys sighs.

Azriel growls at his brother “ Cass don’t-“ Cassian moves away from his brothers and the bathroom heading for Feyre. His wings flared behind him. Within a few seconds you had appeared into the home. You standing next to Feyre checking up on her since she had called upon you. You however were slightly distracted by Azriel’s presence through the bond. You could feel his anxiety mixed with a type of shyness. Rhys was nowhere to be found. Cassian marched into the room grabbing your arm and dragging you towards the bathroom.

“ Cass-I have to go back to Feyre- She called for me-why are you dragging me to the bathroom?” Rhys stood in the front of the doorway blocking your view from the bathroom. You knew Azriel was behind him but the fact that Rhys stood in your way told you something was off. Not to mention how Azriel felt exposed through the bond. “Is everything alright?” You tried to peer over Rhys’s shoulder but you couldn’t, you were too short.

Rhys nodded “ Yes everything is alright, Cassian decided it was his business to announce your relationship between you and Azriel out loud”

“ My-My relationship but-“ You cleared your throat “-I don’t know what you are talking about…”

“ Yes you do, and I am appalled that you as your best friend never told me about this!” Cassian fake cries “ Just show her Rhys” He turns away covering his face. You rolled your eyes, Rhys fighting his own laughter turned to the side allowing you to see your mate, your husband, standing there with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Ooh-nooo… I am so sorry” You winced as you stepped through the bathroom forgetting about how your relationship is now known to the entire inner circle. You reached for his face and jaw. Azriel placed his hands around your hips, his thumbs caressing your sides.

“ It’s fine.” He whispers, his sheepish smile turning warm and inviting, happy.

“ No it’s not, normally I’m not this careless-I’m sorry” You turned his head to the sides, you ran your hands along the column of his throat the hickeys healing with each tender touch. Rhys and Cassian grinned from ear to ear, as they left the space, giving the two of you some privacy. He reached a hand upward to cup your own cheek

“ It's alright Y/N, they were bound to find out eventually, it was a matter of time. Cass thinks you’re a Love Vampire” Azriel chuckles.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, you removed your hands from his neck. “ Of course he did, he’s been trying to guess who I spend all my time with for the past two years” You moved out of his hold and toward the door. It was still open and the voices of your friends sounded off in the background. Azriel reached for your wrist, pulling you back to him. He leaned down, capturing your lips with his, the kiss slow and sweet. He pulled back resting his forehead against yours. “ We gotta go Az” You tell him gently.

“ I know, just a few more minutes” He says with his eyes closed.

“ Az we can’t” You giggled.

“ If we go out there I have to share you”

“ Yeah well you can blame Cassian for that. Come on” You pulled away, you took his hand in yours tugging him out of the bathroom. He reluctantly follows you out into the open, where the entire inner circle beamed with excitement.

Rhys smiled with Feyre tucked under his arm, who shared the same expression. “ I do believe you owe us an explanation”

“ A love story perhaps” Elain chimes in.

“ Can someone tell the story because I want to know how this was kept secret the whole time” Cassian shouts from the back. Nesta shakes her head barely there but a noticeable grin shines. Amren crosses her arms and even she couldn’t fight the happiness she felt. Mor squeals with joy as she rushes towards you taking you into her arms. A pink tint flushed against Azriel’s skin,his hand still connected to yours as he pulled you back towards him after Mor let go.

You looked at Azriel ‘It’s your call’ you tell him through the bond. Azriel returns your heartfelt gaze, a simple nod was all you received. It was your okay signal, you squeezed his hand pulling him back to the table. Everyone sat down, an extra chair was added for you so that you could sit next to him. The two of you looked toward each other one more time as you both took a deep breath releasing all the nervousness. Your gazes drift back to the group.

Azriel clears his throat. “ Do you remember that time I disappeared for a few days-“

“ WAIT? YOU-“Cass started

“ SHUT UP CASS!” The entire group shouted at him, the two of you chuckled, as the group began to argue again. The two of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[nineblooddances-if]

Heeey, I really enjoyed the demo, but I have a couple of questions regarding diet customisation. I was making an incubus, and as far as I understand their regular diet consists of sexual desire. There's an option to set how MC feels about that and another option later on about what they eat (as in vegetarian/vegan, etc) marked as having special choices for an incubus. So I kind of assuming that it's there for an incubus/succubus MC that's unwilling to feed on sexual desire. Buuuut, there's also options for blood and human flesh that seem to be for a vampire/dhampir and nephilim respectively. Is it a coding mishap or can we just casually make our MC into a cannibal(ish)?

That somewhat led to question of how exactly was the old man feeding MC? Are special diets something that can be substituted by regular food? It didn't seem like MC really knew anyone else (And dad probably didn't want them to, since he seemed to cover their location at least from MC), so did the old man just go out once a month with an axe to get some unfortunate soul, or...

I'm probably just wildly overthinking everything. Oh well, while I'm piling on the questions I might as well add - since it doesn't seem to be related to gender or sex in any way, is there any difference between a succubus and an incubus or is it just a choice of how MC would be referred to?

Sorry for rambling on quite a bit

SPOILERS!!

Diet is for future parts of the story, but in the demo it implies that the main food they're [MC & Mortal Man] eating isn't "food" but the flesh of humans. Now this isn't knowledge yet, but it will be dived into.

With Succubus/Incubus, it isn't a coding error, and can fully dine on flesh and blood since they are still demons. But you don't have to and demons have the liberty of eating regular food, but it won't be quite filling. Which will be further explained in chapter one.

Oh! The reason that succubus and incubus aren't one option is simply for preference. Everything they experience will be the same for all readers who choose to be a succubus or Incubus.

[peeweekey]

super graphic ultra-modern girl like me!

pairing: haley x reader

wc: 2k

tags: mature (NOT explicit) , closeted lesbian haley , both of you are drunk , making out

synopsis: where sharing lipstick with your best friend haley makes you feel… things.

a/n: reader: oh ho ho, i sure hope kissing my bff doesnt awaken anything in me! (it did)

i wrote this listening to super graphic ultra modern girl by chappel roan! haley fits so many of her songs its insane

your head is aching, spinning like you were sent to another dimension that consists of disco flashing lights and the nauseating smell of spilt vodka—all thanks to the sheer amount of alcohol you consumed in the past 5 hours. it’s pushing 3 AM—the strappy 4 inch heels are chafing your feet, the skimpy skirt clinging to your hips ride up in a way that would scandalize the small village mothers, and body glitter covering every inch of your skin. 

you feel light, weightless as you flutter and float through the rhythmic bass engulfing the club. you nod your head to the beat of the music, swaying your hips that loosen with every sip of the sweet alcoholic drink in your hand. 

you’re bouncing up and down to party rock anthem when your phone buzzes. fishing it out of your pocket, you squint your eyes to make out the notification. you bow your head, trying to make out the message over the flashing lights.

an amused laugh bubbles out of you. haley.

—> go 2 thr bathroon rn

—> hurry or else

you turn and wobble out of the middle of the dance floor, swaying to the beat while maneuvering the sea of sweaty bodies. the bathroom is in an isolated corner by the entrance of the club. you push the door open, stumbling slightly when it takes a little less effort than you expect.

you enter the club bathroom, shutting the ornate door behind you. it slams with a resounding slam, dampening the loud candy pop songs blaring through the party outside. 

your heels click against cool marble as you saunter to the long, seemingly endless, stretch of mirrors and faucets. twisting the knob, a rush of tap water flows freely; it contrasts satisfyingly with the heated skin of your hands. you wet your fingers, dabbing your cheeks and neck with cool water. you sigh, shivering with the instant relief it brings.

as you cool yourself off, you think—you do wonder what haley’s predicament is, she texted you with much urgency. 

perhaps she fell into the toilet—or maybe she’s drunk herself to the point of spewing her guts out in one of these very cubicles. the latter though makes you giggle. a notification buzzes from your phone, as if the sound of your laughter summoned it.

—> idiot

—> i can hear u laughing from here

you snort.

suddenly, without warning, you feel a warm hand pull you into a stall. it’s a sudden jerking motion, and you almost lose your balance to fall flat on your face. a gasp rips out of you as you clutch on to the very warm, very soft thing that keeps you from falling and twisting your ankle. before you even register the situation, you’re being dragged in to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. 

you’re frazzled, knocked off balance by a rude and very disrespectful stranger who obviously has no morals. you feel your blood boil, ruthless insults ready at the tip of your tongue—

—then you look up, and that feeling dissipates. instead, a cheshire grin splits your face, “haley.”

she’s the living breathing stereotype of a wild party girl like this; blonde hair in waves down her back that smells sweetly of strawberries, nails buffed and painted a pretty baby blue, and make-up done up to the absolute nines. her sequin skirt sparkles and winks as she shifts. pretty, you’ll ask if you could borrow it next time—

manicured fingers snap and you’re pushed out of your own thoughts. haley crosses her arms, standing in between your thighs, looking down at you with a displeased expression. “took you long enough.”

you offer a sheepish smile. “i was busy.”

“yeah,” she sneers, locking the stall door behind her. “busy shaking your ass to trashy zuzu club songs.” 

you ignore the sharp jab with a roll of your eyes. “what’s up?” you ask, your words slur slightly, almost tapering off into incomprehensible gibberish. “didya you puke or something?”

“ew. no,”the loud is just making my head hurt,” she replies, massaging her temples. “stick your legs together, i’m gonna sit on your lap.”

she knocks your thighs together with her knee. haley maneuvers you to her liking, your bare thighs pressing together when she spins and sits perpendicular to your lap.

“hm.” you feel the weight of her settle on top of your thighs. the warmth of her skin meeting yours under the cut of her skirt. you barely repress a shiver at the heat radiating off her skin. “woah! okay now you really have to tell me what’s going on.”

you're met with a faceful of strawberry-scented blonde hair when she shifts away—ignoring you. good news for her, your drink-addled brain doesn’t seem to care. in fact, your drunk brain figures it is a perfect time to shamelessly flirt. your tongue is loose enough, and your brain has completely thrown away its filter. as friends, of course; building camaraderie as people say.

“you smell nice, did you use that strawberry shampoo i gave?” you murmur, brushing the locks away from your face. you feel haley squirm in your lap. you know she used it, the pride bubbles up in you at the thought. 

it’s overly warm, that plus the buttloads of alcohol brewing in your gut makes your skin feel on fire. 

haley growls. “stop talking, dumbass.”

you roll your eyes, pinching her thigh. she yelps, high and breathy, swatting your hand away. she meets your eyes, her blonde brows furrowed.

“geez…” a lazy smile playing on your lips. “just take the compliment, hales.”

a ghost of a smirk appears on her cherry colored lips. glossy and pink. you wonder if they taste as sweet and tart as real cherries do—

you wince internally. thinking like that is not a good idea. damn your alcohol foggy brain, making you think of the inane idea of lusting after your best friend. 

you knock your forehead into her shoulder. “so are we just going to sit here all day?”

“i just need to touch up my lipstick,” she says. facing you with an expectant look. “then we can go back.”

“and that’s why you called me,” you raise a brow. your gaze trails to the cherry coat on her lips—it looks perfectly fine to you. in fact, she looks absolutely darling like this. 

“you need some?”

“…are you offering?”

“why not? we share all my shit anyway,” you shrug. “i think it’s somewhere in my purse—”

“where’s your purse?”

“i left it with the others, i think it’s with abby, i'll text her.” you say. fumbling for your phone, you reach in the hidden pocket of your skirt. the walls enclosing the cubicle restrict your movements; you bump your elbow against the flimsy wood as you dig deeper into the flimsy pocket. your skirt is skin-tight against your hips, you feel the woman above becoming increasingly agitated as your attempts to fish out your phone come out fruitless.

haley huffs above you, shifting; making your wary gaze snap back to her. she looks down at you with a pout—you’re damn sure she’s just as hammered as you.

“too far,” she whines, taking a firm grip of your jaw. your cheeks puff with the force of her squishing them, you feel the pointed tips of her nails digging into the fat there. she swings a leg over you, her hips bracketing your waist as she sits atop you. 

this position feels strangely intimate; like all your senses are overwhelmed with only haley. the heady scent of her skin, the short sounds of her breathing in your ears, the burning feeling wherever she touches—it’s all her, her, her.

which shouldn’t make you feel the way it’s making you feel; like you're buzzing with adrenaline. you feel the blood coursing through your veins at race car speeds—spreading all throughout your body. your cheeks feel hot, you feel dizzy with all your senses stimulated by your best friend.

the reverberating bass from the music outside shakes the walls; like some sort of finality as it thumps, thumps, thumps.

“hales,” you start, your mouth dry. “what—”

she stares at you, her crystalline eyes shining in the dim light of the bathroom. a pretty pink flush paints her cheeks til the tips of her pearl-adorned ears. you feel her breaths against your cheek—short and warm. “stay still, the gloss you have on your lips will do.”

your ears have to be fucking with you… your eyes widen and you swear you feel your heart jump up into your throat. “huh—”

“what?” she says in response to your wide-eyed expression. her tone drops to something akin to a purr. “your lipstick is such a pretty shade.”

helping is what friends are for, right? maybe this is merely the alcohol talking; because she doesn’t like you like that, totally—and the disappointment you feel is not because of that either. 

you swallow the heavy lump in your throat; your voice is strangled and stuttery when you speak. “f—fine.”

“perfect,” she grins. “hold still.”

this is the least you were expecting when you walked into the club bathroom; who knew you’d end up with haley in your lap and hovering over for what is technically a kiss. you will your eyes not to close, burning the view of her leaning over you into your brain. you shudder; this is not a sight that will leave you for months to come.

you squeeze her hip as her face hovers closer, palm lingering at her scratchy sequin miniskirt. you crane your neck, anticipating the brush of her lips against yours. your other hand travels to her upper back, stroking her locks of golden hair; under your ministrations, you feel her tremor slightly.

it feels like eternity when you finally connect. 

sparks fly the moment you feel the plush softness of her mouth against yours, moving in a salacious rhythm that you doubt is for only sharing lipstick. 

her lips are sticky with what remains of that cherry lip gloss; it smears all over your own lips, spreading your deep red lipstick everywhere; at the corner of your lips, at your chin. your eyes flutter shut, a contented sigh escapes your mouth and haley uses that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. she drags her hand up and up, curling her fingers into the base of your neck.

you jolt, the pleasure fogs your mind; your thoughts are muddy, the only coherent thing is of haley. 

your tongue swipes at her bottom lip, chasing the fruity flavor of cherry cola on her lips. it’s sweet, she’s sweet. you feel lightheaded with the overwhelming sensations of it. sure, you’ve kissed once or twice—but it never felt like this; soft and desperate and hot and tingly, affecting you all throughout your body. 

your breaths are labored when she pulls away and you feel it's too soon. a clicking wet sound when her mouth disconnects from yours that makes you shiver. you feel dizzy with warmth; heat is pooling low in your belly, a low buzzing sensation overwhelms everywhere haley touches. 

her lips as wine-red as yours. the same color lipstick smeared messily on her lips. haley wipes the corner of your cupid’s bow, where some of the color had smudged, her breathing heavy and pupils dilated as you stare. her hands feel delightfully warm and soft against your skin. golden strands of hair brush against your cheeks, making you squirm in your seat.

you can barely restrain your delighted giggle, in awe of the absurdity of the situation. haley laughs too, a light sound like a tinkling bell. you slump against the cold tile wall behind you, boneless and in disbelief— did you really just make out with your best friend? and at a grimy club bathroom no less.

time seems suspended here, cramped in a stall with only the sound of heavy breathing. there will be a lot more questions when you leave, lingering glances at your pleasure-pulled hair and smeared lipstick. 

this is what friends do, what you and haley do. your eyes track her every move, unabashedly staring as she readjusts her top. haley catches your eye, smiling like the cat that got all the cream. 

she cranes her face to your ear, whispering. “thanks for the touch up, babe.”

[fleurhcss]

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐨 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 - Seungmin x FEM!Reader

cw: some cunty and kinky shit, very hard sex, best friends to lovers, very possessive and hard dom seungmin with a sweet trait (im sorry i love my minnie), bratty reader, you are really a whore, stripper reader, mention of alchool and jealousy, handcuff

sw: hair pulling, choke kink, pinv, cunnilingus, oral (M! receving), orgasm denial, multiple orgasm, scratching, biting, marking, bit of blood cuz seungmin is very kinky bastard MDNI!

wc: 7k

synopsis: Financially, you are not doing well. In addition to your part-time job, you attend some clubs in the evenings in order to earn a little more money. You do not mind showing off, as you love receiving compliments from men and finding new partners with whom to engage in sexual intercourse in order to satisfy your sexual frustrations. Your closest friend, Seungmin, is unaware of these circumstances. Given his protective nature, it is likely that he would take extreme measures to protect you. One unexpected outcome of the situation is that the individual in question has become a possessive dominant. He unintentionally discovers the extent of your job. This results in a particularly harsh fuck between the two, during which he is merciless. Your initial perception of him was that of a kind and gentle individual. However, upon further reflection, it becomes evident that he is, in fact, a complex and intriguing character. His actions and demeanor often elicit a strong emotional response, including feelings of intense arousal and even physical sensations such as bleeding.

a/n: hiii, I'm writing this since the chanel event! I'm sorry if i take request so sloowly but it's exam ses. now! Hope you will like this, i had fun writing it 🫶🏻🩷 made especially for this cutie @chrizzztopherbang

[ SMUT ]

And yet another day at one of your numerous jobs. In recent times, you have been experiencing financial problems. These have included the payment of university fees, rent, groceries, bills and other essentials. In order to supplement your income, you were engaged in four different occupations: bartender, librarian, and after-school care every other day, and nightclub work on a nightly basis. Your friends were unaware of this aspect of your life, as discussing it caused you considerable embarrassment. Nevertheless, you did not feel any discomfort about it. The practice of tipping for additional services was beneficial, although not all men were agreeable. Some men were able to satisfy the sexual frustrations of the women with whom they engaged in such activities. At this juncture, you found yourself situated in the midst of a professional endeavour, assisting high school students in the enhancement of their GPAs. It is noteworthy that these students held a profound regard for you. Despite the exhaustion that inevitably accompanied the work, you found great satisfaction in your role. As you corrected the mathematics exercises of the esteemed Hana, an Anglo-Korean girl whom you held in high regard and who consistently presented you with exquisite drawings, you contemplated the future once you had completed your current task.

At nine o'clock, you were expected to arrive at one of the clubs in the centre of town for your customary performance. In addition to the attractive remuneration, this job offered another significant advantage: you had always been passionate about dancing, and this was the closest thing to it. However, you had had to cease dancing due to a lack of time and financial resources. Once you had completed the boys' homework and explained a few philosophical concepts and mathematical formulas, you retired to bed, seeking a little peace. Fortunately, the time was still six o'clock, allowing for a period of rest following an already exhausting day. You had studied for college in the morning, worked in the afternoon, and now, in a few hours, you would resume your night work. The peculiar absence of your best friend's customary appearance or telephone call had not yet occurred. At least, he was doing well. Seungmin was your best friend. He exhibited two distinct personas: during the day, he was a polite and affluent individual, displaying considerable intelligence and respect; at night, when he socialized with his friends, he became a kind of Don Giovanni heartthrob. It is undeniable that he possessed a certain allure.

He exhibited a high degree of protectiveness towards you, never allowing other men to be involved in your romantic life. Consequently, he was the first to be unaware of your secret occupation. It is difficult to speculate how he might have reacted, and it may have been for the best that he was not informed. If he ever discovered your secret, he would pursue the men you had been with one by one, and the outcome of this pursuit was uncertain. He would then turn his attention to you, delivering a lecture in a good-natured manner and possibly resorting to other forms of intimidation. Your best friend could instill a sense of fear in him, although he had not learned this from your experience but from that of Jisung, Seungmin's best friend, who had engaged in sexual intercourse with his boyfriend in the latter's car and had been discovered. You still recall his displeased demeanor, and you were disinclined to provoke him further.

However, your premature declaration of triumph was premature, as he had not telephoned but had arrived at your residence shortly before you were about to fall into a deep slumber. The most disconcerting aspect of the situation was the fact that, given that he had been your closest friend for several years, you had provided him with the keys to your apartment. Consequently, there was no need for you to even get up and go to open the door for him, since he had suddenly entered your room in his sports clothes. This was somewhat unexpected, given that he had previously expressed disinterest in the gym. He himself observed your perplexed expression regarding his unusual post-gym attire and appearance. "Good afternoon. Don't look me with such disdain, Changbin hyung is compelling Jisung and Felix and me to engage in training with him because he said that we're too thin," and you were overcome with mirth. The aforementioned ones were notably thin, comprising two endearing, little males with minimal musculature. They appeared to be little fairies, including Changbin, who appeared to possess an exaggerated musculature. Seungmin was considerably taller than the others and had broad shoulders. The image of him working out with them was amusing.

"It is funny to consider the prospect of you engaging in working out with them. It is similarly amusing to contemplate the idea of you engaging in sparring in general, given that you have historically disliked it," you concluded, making yourself comfortable and creating space for your friend to sit next to you on the bed. He gave you a friendly tap on the arm and pouted in a manner that was both endearing and characteristic of him. You had coined the term "Seungballons" to describe this particular pout, as it resembled a balloon. Furthermore, the addition of a kiss-shaped mouth gesture would invariably render one unconscious. You found this behaviour endearing, and it prompted you to engage in a reciprocal act of affection by kissing him on the cheeks. "Ugh, at the end I must concede that it is not without merit. It has been a long-standing thing, one that is difficult to notice due to my tendency to wear baggy clothing. However, I have gained a considerable amount of muscle mass. Look." He said, lifting up the shirts he was wearing, which caused you to be quite shocked since, yes, your friend had two pecs and a well-developed 6-pack. His physical appearance provoked a strong emotional response, yet he was your closest friend and you were unable to entertain such thoughts.

"You must inform Changbin that he has done an excellent job with you," you swallowed, making a feigned smile and drinking some water in an attempt to erase the image of your best friend's partially nude body from your mind – although you did not mind. "I shall do so, and I am grateful to you, my lady." "Tomorrow we're going to a club at night; would you like to come?" he inquired. You froze in your tracks, contemplating the possibility of being discovered. However, they typically did not frequent such places, so you were afforded a degree of protection if your luck did not turn against you. "I would like to inform you that I am unable to attend. I am engaged in a full day's work, and then I must prepare for an imminent exam. Nevertheless, I would be interested to know where you are going, if you do not mind me asking." "I'm uncertain. Binnie hyung informed us that he had discovered a new place and we were curious to learn more about it," Seungmin said thoughtfully, and you felt a sense of relief since you still had the opportunity to withdraw.

However, you were not convinced by your friend's distressed expression; you suspected he was concealing something. "Are you well, Min?" you enquired as you adjusted his bangs. "Yes, and I am concerned about the tastes of some of my hyungs, to be honest," he replied, leading you with him onto the bed and initiating a bout of tickling. That afternoon, your thoughts were not preoccupied with the information your friend had conveyed to you. Instead, you found yourself contemplating his toned, bare chest, devoid of clothing. You had not anticipated his physical attractiveness, particularly given his previous demeanor. You had become accustomed to his puppy-dog appearance, with its endearing, youthful features.

Consequently, you had not considered the possibility that he might have undergone training.

It was evident that the ensemble suited him. Seungmin already possessed broad shoulders, one of your vices being to lean on them whenever you watched a movie or went out. This was a habit that you had developed, but it was not a common occurrence. "Please do not change the subject. I am curious to know what are Changbin's tastes. I apologise for the interruption." You giggled, putting yourself back together. Seungmin blushed slightly, as he was not an innocent individual. His former partners had confirmed this to you, as they had discussed his sexual performance in great detail. However, he was ashamed to discuss certain topics in public or with you, given that you were his best friend. He considered you to be an innocent girl, which you were not. "Let us suppose that he has a penchant for strippers and nightclubs. That is all I am saying, and I am aware that it is a rather embarrassing topic."

He concluded by running a hand over his face, which made you chuckle under your breath.

"As if you had never observed a female without clothes." You made the assertion. Indeed, he had observed numerous instances of female nudity, including those of his romantic partners.

"Affirmative, but I was with them. I am not comparable to the hyung who partakes in adventurous pursuits with women who perform lap dances for him in nightclubs." Had he been aware of this, he would have realised that this was precisely what you did for a living. "You have never even considered fucking a woman you are not in a romantic relationship with and who is not your girlfriend?" you inquired, as you began to manipulate the fabric of his suit. "No, I am ... shy," he replied, biting his lip. He was regarded with a degree of disbelief.

"Are you shy?" you inquired, regarding him with an expression that even he, as your closest friend, could not interpret. "Indeed, I am shy," he replied, displaying a grimace and then playfully shoving you. "You're really peculiar, Kim Seungmin," you pushed him back and then initiated a tickling session, blushing when you felt how well-trained and well-sculpted he was under your touch. While it was not the first time you had touched a well-trained chest, Seungmin's was doing something to you. It is possible that this was due to the fact that he was your closest friend, or perhaps it was because he was distinct from the others you had encountered, or possibly because you were accustomed to seeing him consistently and exclusively as a thin individual with broad shoulders. 

It can be posited that, without intending to, you were becoming preoccupied with fantasies about Seungmin to an extent that was inappropriate. Not only had you been friends for years, but he was also one of your closest friends. Despite the fact that you found it difficult to erase certain images of him from your mind, you felt guilty about thinking of him in a certain way. It is also worth noting that your nighttime occupation presented certain challenges. It would be highly undesirable for one of your friends, particularly Seungmin, to become aware of your nocturnal activities. Upon reflection, Seungmin had mentioned attending a nightclub. If he encountered you on duty at one of the clubs where you were a regular, your situation would be untenable. It is unclear how Seungmin perceived you, but it is unlikely that he viewed you as a dancer in one of the clubs that your best friend's best friend held in high regard.

He suddenly inquired as to what attire he should wear, which prompted you to regard him with a degree of disquietude. Your best friend was known to exhibit eccentricities on occasion. "Excuse me, but do I appear to be an expert on nightclubs?" you inquired, your tone indicating a certain anxiety. "No, but as a woman, you might possess the requisite knowledge to dress me in a manner that would impress," he replied, almost shyly, though his demeanor belied his true feelings. "So my dear Min wants to impress some girl?" you inquired, playfully pinching his cheek as you laughed. He regarded you with a look of displeasure. "I am a male, and I have not fucked for several months. I have certain needs. It is undoubtedly challenging for me to refrain from emotional connection during fucks by the way. However, I am unable to resist certain urges. Perhaps at the conclusion of the night, I may be able to elicit a favorable response from someone." he articulated this in a low voice, his hands covering his face. "Are you truly stating that you wish to fuck while being shy Kim Seungmin?" You laughed in his face for the umpteenth time. "What do you want? It would appear that you don't actually fuck since a considerable period of time." He tousled your hair, but watching your expression closely, he reciprocated with a confused one, to say the least.

The issue was that you lacked the ability to lie effectively, particularly in the context of deceiving him. Consequently, you frequently exhibited peculiar facial expressions that he was able to discern with remarkable clarity. "Oh my God, fuck! You fucked with someone and did not inform me of this?" he inquired, his facial expression indicating a greater degree of anger than offense. "That is not true. You are merely imagining these events," you replied, attempting to maintain a neutral expression. "Indeed, you did. You fucked and did not tell me about it. You are aware that you cannot lie to me, Y/N," he said, biting his lip with an expression that was both serious and intense. The atmosphere had become noticeably more intense, with a tangible sense of unease and tension. You were in a compromising situation and had placed yourself in a vulnerable position. You could have been certain that you felt the first drops of perspiration forming on your face. However, you were compelled to terminate the discussion before he reached the crux of the matter. The most expedient course of action was to acknowledge the occurrence, albeit in a circumscribed manner. "It did happen on a few occasions when I was drunk, but it was not a regular occurrence," you stated, attempting to provide a concise account. Nevertheless, he was not inclined to inquire about the incident in question.

"On only a few occasions when you were drunk? Are you insane? What if something had happened to you?" There was the protective Seungmin you wished to avoid. After all, you were grateful for his concern and lack of complaints, yet at times it became unbearable. "Nevertheless, it didn't happen. I am sufficiently mature and prudent to comprehend the implications of my actions, Seungmin," you stated, indicating him with a finger as if to admonish him. "Yes, I am aware of this, but I am concerned about your well-being," he said, grasping your arm and then taking a bite. It can be described as a unique form of affection with which he was expressing his apology to you. "I am aware, Seung, but don't concern yourself; I am fully cognizant of my actions," you smiled at him, taking his face in one hand and placing a kiss on his forehead. "You should return home, as you are in a rather stinking state, Mr. Gym," you playfully admonished him by catching a light tap on the shoulder before he departed your domicile.

The workday was set to be quite lengthy.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You were profoundly distressed, experiencing considerable discomfort throughout your body. At work the previous night, you were compelled to work an extended overtime shift (for which you were only compensated half of the usual rate). This resulted in a complex set of experiences, including physical pain and a substantial financial reward. You had been obliged to engage in sexual intercourse with two individuals, a task which you found disagreeable, particularly given the lack of excitement involved. However, the remuneration was satisfactory and you did not express any significant discontent. You were aware that the nature of the work was not equitable, yet you found it necessary and on occasion utilised it as a means of alleviating certain cravings. Fortunately, you had acquired the ability to feign an orgasm, which you employed on some occasions, such as yesterday. At the time, you were situated in your bed, surrounded by books for your imminent exam and, in a few hours, you would be required to attend your morning work.

That night, despite your best efforts, you were obliged to attend a club in the centre of town. You had completely forgotten that Changbin was going to take Seungmin and the others to a club in the downtown area, which could very well have been the one you were on duty at that night. However, you had not considered this possibility and your mind was so preoccupied that it kept slipping away. Thus, you were preparing for your exam in a discreet manner, unaware that that night presented the optimal opportunity for you to meet your closest friend, who was likely to be visibly distressed. You would be performing your duties that afternoon, and you hoped that the number of customers would be relatively low, given your limited mobility.

The mere anticipation of returning to work that night provoked a profound sense of distress. It was your hope that no one would request private shows or the other activities that you sometimes found disagreeable. The sole desire was to rest and awaken in a pool of wealth. You arose listlessly to prepare your lunch. It was not feasible to combine work and rest in such a manner, so it was necessary for you to take analgesics and vitamins.

Subsequently, you found yourself engaged in the preparation and service of smoothies and ice cream at your customary café. Your daily routine proceeded as usual. What was not foreseen was the presence of your closest friend at the table you were scheduled to serve. One might inquire as to whether they should not have been preparing for their evening activities. One is prompted to inquire as to the nature of their collective enterprise in a café a few hours before their nightclubbing. You expressed your displeasure at the owner's suggestion that you should hasten to serve the aforementioned table, and furthermore, you were unable to evade the situation, as Seungmin was aware that this was a table that was allotted to you and consistently sat there with the intention of being served.

After a prolonged period of contemplation, you approached them. "Good evening,shouldn't you be getting ready for your clubbingnight ?" you said, your tone sarcastic. Your friend smiled at you and pinched your side. You were inclined to flee. "Jisung is unable to consume alcohol unless he has consumed a meal or a smoothie beforehand," Felix informed him, which elicited a disdainful gaze from the latter. "It is not advisable to consume alcohol with an empty stomach." The boy offered a rationale for his actions, stating that alcohol is absorbed into the bloodstream at a faster rate and that the effects of inebriation are more pronounced. "Is this not the meaning behind frequenting nightclubs? Furthermore, who informed you of this? Your esteemed professor?" the older boy inquired in jest. You regarded them with a peculiar expression, and Seungmin proceeded to elucidate the matter: Jisung had a somewhat unconventional relationship with one of his university professors, characterised by frequent flirtation. "I must respectfully disagree. Minho is a very good teacher," he countered, blushing. Your facial expression was unmistakable. "You are now addressing him by his first name as well," he observed, prompting a general outburst of mirth, particularly the adorable blush on Jisung's chubby cheeks.

"So what can I get for you?" you inquired, cutting the conversation short in order to take their orders and extricate yourself from your friend's company. You were particularly keen to avoid the question of your friend, who would undoubtedly invite you to the evening event.

You had only been present for a few minutes when you observed Seungmin casting furtive glances in your direction and his friends teasing him about something you did not comprehend. It was not known to you that they were teasing him about the fleeting glances he was sending you. "Seungmin, did you notice that you are eating her with your eyes?" inquired Felix, appropriating the cherry from his milkshake. "That is incorrect," he replied, taking a sip from his glass. "Indeed, it is. One might suggest that you ask her out," the blonde continued. "That would be an unusual and somewhat awkward situation, and then I believe she may be involved in a nocturnal affair, or perhaps even a series of them," he said, lowering his head. "And you are jealous! "Which then leads to the question of whether that is what you wish to do tonight," inquired Changbin. "Be silent. It is possible that I am, in fact, jealous. "

The observed behaviour was merely the incessant movement of the lips in an attempt to evade the source of discomfort as soon as possible. Fortunately, the group departed twenty minutes later, and Seungmin offered you a brief kiss on the cheek. This prompted further mirth among his small group of friends, which led you to become increasingly suspicious. Your sole concern was to avoid encountering them in the nightclub where you were on duty that evening. This was your intention since yesterday, precisely since your closest friend informed you of it. Your anxiety regarding the aforementioned issue was greater than your concern about your inability to dance effectively due to the discomfort from the previous night.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

In the midst of your preparations for the imminent show, you were compelled to hastily change your attire. Fortunately, you had already completed your make-up. The evening attire was of a revealing nature, and the dance was expected to be of a vigorous nature. It was therefore hoped that the wearer would not become unwell. Your colleague entered your dressing room and informed you that you were scheduled to perform shortly, prompting you to commence your customary stage performance for adolescent males and middle-aged men.

The only individuals absent were those whom you had anticipated would be present at the club. The only discernible difference was that they observed you, observed you with particular interest, particularly your closest friend, who opened his eyes wide as he consumed no less than two shots in the space of three minutes. "What is she doing there?" he enquired, his fists clenched as he fixed his gaze upon you. "I am sure that there must be an explanation, and perhaps she did not tell you in order to prevent you from worrying," said Jisung, grasping his shoulders behind Changbin, as Seungmin appeared to be on the verge of exploding. "She is undeniably attractive," the shorter individual observed, prompting a withering gaze from the younger one. "Hyung, I strongly advise you not to make any advances towards her. It is already difficult enough for me to refrain from picking her up from the stage, but I assure you that as soon as she leaves for the dressing room, I will not allow her to get away from me." He proceeded to down another shot of vodka.

It is regrettable that upon concluding your nightly performance, another individual followed you into the dressing room and you failed to perceive the presence of Seungmin, who was positioned directly behind you and had abruptly issued a silent threat. Such was the extent of the incident that, upon turning around, you suffered a stroke and lost the ability to speak. Your situation was indeed veryscrewed. "Seungmin, I can-" you were abruptly interrupted and led to your dressing room, where he seated you on your personal table. His gaze was one of intense desire, imbued with the combined effects of alcohol and rage. You had never observed him in such a state. "Explain ? What precisely do you wish to explain to me? Explain to me how you have been selling your body without ever having informed me of this?" He said, grasping your waist. This should not have aroused you.

"I am experiencing financial difficulties, and this is the only occupation that offers a satisfactory remuneration," you stated in your defence. "I am indifferent to the matter. I could have provided assistance." You are my property, okay? It is not permissible for anyone to touch you, Y/N." He then proceeded to kiss you with considerable passion and force. This was a source of considerable distress for you, as it deviated from your expectations of the situation. Although you were experiencing a certain degree of pleasure, the situation remained somewhat unusual. His hands were of considerable size and appeared to be an appropriate instrument for caressing. "Why not? Who determined that I am yours?" you inquired in a teasing manner. At this juncture, the situation became increasingly amusing for you as well. "I do now I must erase the memory of that unsanitary contact before I had the opportunity to do so," he whispered in your ear before reaching down into the hollow of your neck and allowing you to ingest the substance. "Seungmin, my legs are fatigued. I am unable to walk," you informed him, indicating your own limitations. "There are numerous other ways to satisfy our mutual desires, and we will address this particular issue at a later time." Furthermore, I am . While I wish to destroy you, I would never take advantage of a woman in this state. It is remarkable that he remained in character as the usual Seungmin knight.

"What do you intend to do in my dressing room?" you inquired, observing as he bent down between your thighs, slipping the suit you had worn for the evening. "I am not certain. I am experiencing a craving, if I may be so bold as to say so." He smiled. That young man, whom you had previously considered to be a potential danger to your sanity. He considered your body to be aesthetically pleasing. He commenced another voracious and ardent kiss. His hands descended in a sweeping motion, tracing a path down your body, cupping your thighs and gradually rising to your buttocks, which he grasped firmly in a vice-like grip. "Your beauty is such that it is unconscionable to wait any further. I want you and I want to play a little," Seungmin stated with a sneer in his voice. He then relocated you to the small sofa, with the instruction to straddle his body. He proceeded to kiss your neck, leaving a series of marks. It was inevitable that he would bite you, as this was a habit of his, apparently. You had learned this from his exes. He was biting you to let you know you were his, biting you until you bled and licking away the mess he was making. This aroused you to a considerable extent. He smiled, indicating that he understood. You were in a state where he was able to act in any way he desired. No other person had ever caused you to feel such an intense sensation of arousal.

"Look at you, you are ready for me to do anything I wish with you." He was unaware of this fact as well.

The young man moved in closer to you, initiating a further passionate kiss as he cupped the back of your neck with one hand and used another to caress your intimacy. The movements were initially slow, but soon accelerated, with your best friend removing your panties and rapidly caressing your clitoris. Once he had become tired, he commenced a lengthy series of kisses on your inner thighs. He then proceeded to grasp your thighs and bring them to his shoulders. He then began to leave kisses on your vagina. "Please do not wait any longer," you said, and Seungmin laughed, then began to lick your cunt in a long, slow motion. He cupped your ass as he massaged them. You had been waiting for that moment since he had laid his thin, large hands on your waist the day before.

"Seungmin, please..." you almost implored him, before arching your back in a series of involuntary gasps, clinging to the back of the sofa as much as you could. You looked at him, pushing yourself harder against his face, craving more and more. He laughed as he observed the reactions he was provoking in you with each of his touches, which only served to intensify his desire to possess you. He grinned as he continued what he had initiated. His hands were firmly harpooned in your bottom and thanks to the pleasure you were experiencing, you had thrown your head back. He laughed again as his tongue continued its work. He found the taste of you on his taste buds to be particularly delicious, sending him into a state of intense pleasure. He was profoundly and passionately in love with you, with every aspect of your being. His nose came into contact with your pubes as a result of the depth of penetration achieved with his tongue. He was enjoying himself to a considerable extent, as evidenced by your moans and the pulling of strands of his hair. Seungmin was not displeased by this aspect of your behaviour; indeed, he found it erotic in a particular way. He smiled as his tongue explored your cavity in slow, circular motions, designed to drive you to a state of ecstasy. Seungmin was mutely enjoying the experience. His sole objective was to ensure your enjoyment. His hands moved to the sides of your thighs, which he struck with resounding slaps. He derived pleasure from leaving his marks, but he would never do anything to harm you; he worshipped you.

Subsequently, his hands moved in a circular motion, grasping your thighs and placing them on your shoulders. His mouth had previously been in contact with your clitoris, but had now moved to sink his teeth into your inner thigh. He derived pleasure from leaving his imprints on you. No one was permitted to touch his woman; you were his and, furthermore, only his. You belonged to him. From his boot emerged a pocketknife, the purpose of which was unclear. However, before this could be determined, he took your labia majora between his teeth and pulled them towards him, pressing them against his mouth in order to suck your clitoris. This was done in a manner that was reminiscent of sucking a straw. He then proceeded to draw a thin line with the blade of the pocketknife, which drew a streak of blood, all the way to your mound. This was driving you to a state of considerable excitation. He withdrew from your vulva, reaching up to begin his work, and began to lick the warm crimson-coloured liquid that was gradually leaking from the wound. Furthermore, the moans of pain and pleasure that you emitted drove him to a state of unparalleled ecstasy. The sensation of your mouth on his own was more fulfilling than any other experience. He proceeded to suck the blood that was dripping from the wound, which resulted in the formation of additional lesions on his breasts, around his nipples, in his groin, and next to his navel. This merely precipitated his orgasm. Furthermore, when he inserted two fingers into your oral cavity, which was already open, he proceeded to stimulate your tongue. "Look at you..., my submissive slut," and smiled.

He sneered as he took your face between his fingers. The painting depicted you in a blood-soaked state. After a brief interval, he withdrew his fingers and proceeded to stimulate your orifice by alternately inserting and withdrawing his digit. This action was performed in a manner that elicited a profound sensation of arousal. Seungmin was intrigued by the prospect of  fucking you at that moment. "What is your desire, my princess?" "Not that you are in a position to do much in this state," he said, laughing, in reference to his fingers being inside you. "I want to touch you," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the non-stop moaning. "You can do better than that," he winked, then pulled away from you and sat you down on your side, standing up, taking off his pants and sitting by your side. You stood frozen for a while at the sight of its length; it was big and compact. You had never seen one like it before.

"I see you are pleased with it, princess," he said, bringing your face close to his. You had completely perceived what he desired to accomplish. You were fully conscious of his intentions. You were rendered incapable of uttering any further words, as if his imposing stature had rendered you in a state of trance. He then proceeded to rub the tip of his member against your lips, seemingly in a teasing manner. It was not difficult for you to open your lips and initiate contact with the glans. Subsequently, you proceeded to suck the tip and then ran your tongue along the entire circumference and veins. You stimulated the testiculi with your hands, causing him to emit a hoarse moan. When you proceeded to insert him fully into your mouth, until you reached the uvula, you emitted a moan, which caused his member to tremble. This elicited a shrill moan from him. "Fuck, baby like that." He stated that by grabbing your hair and then fucking your mouth, you were certain that you would come one more time if he continued in that manner. Indeed, your assumption proved to be correct. This is precisely what did happen.

"Fuck Y/N, I'm going to come, take [it] off," he said, removing his hand from your hair. However, you had no intention of removing your mouth. You grasped his thighs and thrust his member deeply into your throat, causing him to release inside you with a prolonged, audible moan. You swallowed, licking your lips, and looked at him. "You are incomprehensibly unaware of the effect you have on me," he winked. "I can, however, inform you of the effect you have on me." You giggled and then reached up to his ear and left a kiss underneath. "You caused me to experience another orgasm," you stated with a hint of sneering.

"Well, now, if it pleases you, I would be grateful for a date and to clean you up," he smiled as he led you to your private bathroom. "I would be most honoured to do so, sir," you replied, laughing. This was not the conclusion that could be expected.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The bucket list of any normale person would not include the experience of being discovered by Seungmin during a night work shift. Nonetheless, the incident had precipitated a transformation in your life. Seungmin, at the time, had persuaded you to cease your employment at a nightclub, he was concerned about your well-being and did not want you to be used as a mere object by men. He had, among other things, offered to provide you with financial assistance until you found a suitable alternative employment. He assisted you in your search for a position that offered comparable income, and he was adamant that it did not involve the exploitation of your body for sexual gratification. Although you initially expressed some reluctance, given your long-standing opposition to his financial assistance, you ultimately consented.

The unanticipated date also occurred. He had extended an invitation to you shortly after your encounter in the dressing room, while discreetly cleaning up the resulting mess. If you were to be candid, you had never considered Seungmin to be a potential romantic partner. However, your perspective had been gradually alter over time. In those days, his friends, who were also your friends, had informed you that he had been casting furtive glances at you and was developing an interest in you. This initially perplexed you, but you eventually became accustomed to it. Additionally, you were required to mentally prepare for the meeting.

You did not deny that you were somewhat anxious; you were uncertain as to the destination he had in mind for that evening. He had instructed you to dress in a manner that was both comfortable and tasteful, yet your anxiety was becoming increasingly pronounced. Following a lengthy shower, you began to peruse your wardrobe, but it was challenging to select an appropriate outfit without any knowledge of the planned destination. Eventually, however, you selected a relatively simple ensemble comprising a black skirt with ruffles, not excessively short, and a top of the same colour that left your shoulders bare with a boat neckline. You wore your beloved wedges. If you had to choose between the latter and heels, based on what Seungmin had told you about elegance and comfort, you would have chosen the latter. Your makeup was minimalistic, your hair was styled in a wavy manner and fell to your shoulders, your necklace was tightly fastened around your neck, and all of your jewellery was in its appropriate place. You concluded your ensemble with a fruity and very sugary perfume, before proceeding to the living room where you would await your no longer best friend.

Seungmin arrived shortly thereafter with a large bouquet of roses, which was in keeping with his reputation as a gallant man. You smiled, recalling that he had not been in bed with you, especially after the knife performance. He said, "For you, my princess," and then kissed you on the lips. The anticipation of the evening's events had been palpable, yet the simplicity of the act itself evoked a profound sense of emotional resonance. The culmination of this experience was the tender kiss beneath the earlobe, accompanied by the words, "I hope you are well-prepared, as we have a long night ahead of us."

It was your firm conviction that, had he spoken to you in such a manner throughout the evening, you would have been so aroused that you would have removed your underwear, even in the absence of any physical contact. In point of fact, you emitted a sigh before placing the roses in a vase with water and accompanying him to the vehicle. It was a revelation to you that the vehicle in question was of considerable dimensions. Furthermore, it was acknowledged that Seungmin appeared particularly attractive that evening. He was attired in a black tank top and loose-fitting black pants. His appearance was enhanced by a leather jacket and jewellery. His footwear consisted of ankle boots with a half-heel, which were as black as the rest of his outfit. His hair was slightly gelled and curly. He was a man of considerable qualities and attributes. You licked your lips, and he observed this, offering you the opportunity to do so. It was inevitable that he would drive you out of your mind as soon as he was able to do so.

It was undeniable that the car ride had contributed to the evening's events. He held your thigh tightly in his hand and massaged your skin, occasionally reaching under the fabric of your skirt. He was aware that it was having a positive effect on you, and you were similarly gratified by the experience. He experienced a sense of predatory intent, like a predator with a vulnerable prey in its grasp.

The evening was progressing in a pleasant manner. He had escorted you to a modest restaurant situated on a hill and you had partaken in a sumptuous meat dish accompanied by an excellent wine. It was evident that he had not failed to take the opportunity to cast you certain glances as he sipped the vin rouge in the glass. He continued to direct his gaze towards you in a manner that was becoming increasingly intimidating. The conversation proceeded smoothly, and you had always enjoyed his company. The topics were diverse and engaging, even when a situation had developed between you that couldn't be defined with a specific term. However, it appeared that Seungmin had anticipated your thoughts, as he initiated a discussion on the matter. "In light of the fact that this is a full-fledged date, I would suggest that we elevate the status of our relationship in boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't think there is any necessity for a dating, as I am aware of your preferences," he said, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of wine. "I agree, with the exception of one point: you are not sufficiently acquainted with me to have discerned my clandestine activities." You provoked him, aware of how the topic would arouse his jealousy. "I had not expected you to go that far." "I have consistently regarded you as my princess and hoped that you would eventually request my assistance." He wrinkled his nose. "Minie, it is important for me to be able to provide for myself. I am grateful for your assistance, but upon securing employment, I would prefer that you cease your help, okay?" you smiled with a pout in response.

"Perhaps should I pay and could we go to my place?" he enquired, smiling, before wiping his lips and rising to his feet. You proceeded in a similar manner, but were prevented from doing so by him. He took your hand and kissed it before leading you to the exit. "This dinner is a date, and I pay as usual. You are my girlfriend, and I will treat you properly," he said, making you blush. The gentleman in question exhibited admirable conduct and etiquette when interacting with women. He was adept at treating women with the respect and consideration they deserved. It is worth noting that, in addition to the aforementioned bedroom activities, you had also gained an understanding of his somewhat eccentric behaviour outside of the bedroom. Subsequently, you awaited his return outside the restaurant. He reappeared shortly thereafter, accompanied by a second bottle of red wine. "It was an excellent meal, and I have a plan for tonight. You'll see what I'm capable of, my dear," he said, chuckling, and then led you to the car and took you both to his house.

To say that he did not even allow you the opportunity to survey the surroundings, despite your intimate familiarity with the house, was an understatement. He immediately lifted you up and carried you to his bed. He then disappeared and returned with two goblets of wine. This night will be indelibly etched in your memory. You watched as Seungmin removed his jacket and black shirt, leaving the vision to his well-defined abs and the glittering necklace he wore. Upon observing him take a sip of wine after nearly entirely stripping himself of his clothing, you were compelled to concede that his actions caused your entire body to tremble. Your panties were soaked by now. "Well, princess, now undress for me," he said, grinning and licking his lips. He then lay on the bed with one hand behind his head and one holding the goblet. By this point, the positions had been reversed, with the man on the bed observing your every movement, while you knelt in front of him, removing each item of clothing until you were completely naked in front of him.

"How magnificent, come closer," he murmured. You advanced on all fours towards him, matching the naked intimacy of your body with his own, which was still fully clothed. He observed you for a prolonged period of time, as if he wished to eternize your image in his memory. You smiled and shuddered as he initiated a gentle caress of your form. He proceeded to caress your cheek, shoulder, and breasts in that order. He then proceeded to grasp the other breast with his free hand, having previously placed the cup on the table. He began to massage it at a slow and deliberate pace, appreciating the substantiality of your skin. He then proceeded to tease your nipple with his fingers before pouncing on it with his lips and attending to the other one as well. One hand, which had previously been positioned behind the back of your neck, now moved to your waist, where it began to caress it. His touch was so seductively overwhelming that it left you breathless. He applied pressure to your hip while his lips played with your breasts. He then moved to your shoulders, biting and branding them. Your hands were clenched in his shoulders, scratching them lightly as you rubbed your vulva against the covered flap of his pants. "Wait a moment, I would like to feel you on me," he whispered in your ear.

He separated your bodies for a brief moment, then proceeded to undress completely, thereby allowing your intimacies to collide. "How about riding me?" he inquired, smiling and winking. Your lips parted in astonishment at the mere suggestion. It is highly unlikely that you would have survived the night. Seungmin was like a mermaid, whose enchanting song was designed to captivate and enthrall. You swallowed and then nodded in agreement. You applied gentle pressure to the head of his penis between your labia, causing you to pant and elicit a moan from the major. He had brought one arm back behind your head, while with the other he held you firmly to himself, increasing the contact. You lowered yourself fully onto him, allowing him to enter you completely and fuck, which he did with considerable force. Your moans intermingled, accompanied by a soft exclamation of "Fuck!" from him. "Your cunt is both tight and warm, which feels very good. You should begin moving," he instructed, and you proceeded to comply with his order. Normally, such an act would have been loathed by you; however, with him, it was all so natural.

As he stroked your hips, you had begun to move at a slower pace. It was a sensation that had never been experienced before with any other partner. It seemed as though Seungmin possessed an innate understanding of the precise locations and techniques required to touch you. Your movements became increasingly rapid, and your nails were driven into his back. "Min, I am coming. I can feel it. My thighs are burning. Please, accelerate the pace!" You were teetering on the brink. "No, not yet," you grunted, then switched positions. You vocalised your displeasure when he withdrew from your embrace, experiencing a sense of emptiness. At this point, you were positioned beneath him as he proceeded to penetrate you, his imposing physique towering over you.

You were certain that an orgasm would be imminent, given his position atop you as he thrust forcefully into you. However, he appeared to hold a different opinion, indicating that he was not interested in facilitating an orgasm. He maintained that it was still too early for such a response. This is why he was withdrawing from you, leaving you with an empty sensation. "Please, Seung, I can no longer endure this," you implored him. Only after pushing with an animalistic force in you he grant you the permission to come. "Your warmth and tightness are so arousing...come for me," he whispered, allowing you to release yourself around him. He informed you that they had not yet reached the conclusion of the act. He then proceeded to turn you over onto your stomach and began to leave bites and marks along your back, tracing a trail of them all over your ass. He proceeded to lick and lap at the area between your buttocks, causing you to moan. Nevertheless, you still had some residual sensitivity from the previous orgasm.

You were unable to say anything as he sank back into you, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling it toward him as he thrust violently and abused your cunt. You arched your back and rolled your eyes, no one had ever caused you such intense pleasure. "Ah... Seungmin... please..." you moaned one final time before coming again. "Who gave you permission?" he demanded, thrusting himself at an astonishingly rapid pace. It was relatively simple for you to reach your third consecutive orgasm that night. "Seungmin, I am about to..." The words were barely audible.

"Come with me," he groaned, and then proceeded to ejaculate into you and you after him, now exhausted. "I will procure the necessary cleaning supplies for you," he murmured, then caressed your side and proceeded to retrieve a cloth that had been soaked in warm, damp water to clean you. He then tied your hair into a braid and made you a cup of hot tea after dressing you in a pair of clean briefs and one of his shirts. "You look so adorable," you murmured, attempting to relax on his chest. "That is the least I can do after making you come how many times?" he said, laughing as he pinched your side. "Three, but now do not boast, sir," you gave him a tongue-lashing. "Do all gentlemen do it rough?" you burst out laughing.

TAGLIST 🎀 : @yongbokkiesworld @gloomy-k @raindropsondragons @linocvp1d @iiamthedramaa @snowyquokka @pynchkilledme @y4kie @ihrtlix @hyunjinnnsgirl @sugarsweetsugarsweet @reader1221 @bubblebisk @chrizzztopherbang @skzooluvr @yoontaethings @ovr9000

[hazelsmirrorball]

Rockstar Girlfriend V. | Hazel Callahan

Rockstar! Hazel Callahan x Popstar! Reader Summary: Hazel Callahan and Y/n L/n have to be in a pr relationship, but both of them can stand each other.  Warnings: Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Enemies to lovers! Angst, Fight (not physical) Not proof read. Sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my main language.  a/n: I swear things are going to look up in the next part. Thanks you so much for all the love and support. 

part one. part two. part three. part four. 

Hazel Callahan wasn’t the type of girl to believe in spiritual things yet she was praying to God to take her out of the situation she was currently in. Hazel wanted to scream, pull her hair out and let the ground eat her away. But there she was living her actual hell. She was certain that hell was real. Hazel had heard the phrase  “Go to hell” a lot of times in her lifetime.  Sometimes directed to other people, sometimes directed to her by her bandmates in a joking and serious manner, her mom would occasionally slip a “go to hell” when she got tired of her shit, haters online would comment on it everyday, she was used to it by now taking it sometimes as a compliment. But what Hazel never knew was that her living hell was going to become a reality. 

Going on tour. 

Don’t get her wrong. She loved being on the road, meeting fans, getting to know new places,  selling out stadiums, having fun, but as of right now she wanted to walk outside and let the tour bus smash her into little pieces. Management thought that the PR thing should stop but that they were going  to  use the advantage that it brought to make both bands tour together. It didn’t make sense to Hazel at all, why would someone pay to see a rock band and have to deal with some little pop girls as the openers. If you asked her that would be her second hell, her first hell being stuck with Y/n in the damn tour bus. 

Even though Management claimed that they were doing amazing when it came to money. Both bands couldn’t understand why they only had one tour bus for six people and they also couldn’t understand how they couldn’t do two separate tours instead of one. If they had all the money they claimed they had, management could’ve done several tours, not just one big one, let alone have the necessity to share  a bus. 

Hazel really needed to get her mind off things with her managers bitching and moaning about the tour, PJ and Josie not deciding what songs to pick for the set list, Isabel and Brittany waking her up at the crack ass of dawn practicing their dance moves and just Y/n’s mere existence made her blood boil. She had been sucking up everything for the past week and she couldn’t hold it any longer. If she had to hear someone else fighting or hard footsteps she was going to throw herself off the bus.  She was on edge and she needed to let loose. 

So when they made their first stop of the tour near a club, things started to look up for Hazel. She had managed to slip away from one of the bodyguards' grasp , ending up having the best night at the club. Alcohol, sex and drugs. The rockstar dream, Hazel was enjoying herself pushing past the fact that she was going to regret everything on tomorrow's show. But as of now she felt on cloud nine and she didn’t want to leave. As she tried getting in the bus as quietly as possible not wanting to gain anyones attention but sadly as she opened the door her eyes landed on e/c one’s. Hazel quickly rolled her eyes watching how Y/n’s beautiful skin glowed, while her ears were covered in her headphones. Y/n’s eyes wandered Hazel’s face placing the guitar she was holding down next to her. 

“You do know you have a show tomorrow, right?” Y/n said breaking the silence while pushing her headphones off. Hazel muttered a river of curse words while imitating Y/n’s voice in an annoying  manner. The only thing Y/n could hear was Hazel’s whines escaping her lips but aside from that all of it was gibberish. Hazel rolled her eyes once again as she stumbled in taking her shoes off while her gaze stayed on the floor looking at the shiny guitar that was next to Y/n’s leg. Her eyes took in the guitar, noticing her name engraved at the top. 

“What the fuck are you doing with my guitar?” Hazel said angrily, snatching it from Y/n’s side and placing it back in her case. Y/n watched Hazel’s toned arm flex as she put the guitar away. She quickly shut the book she was currently writing on, snapping herself back into reality. 

“I thought you wouldn’t mind since I’ve used it before” Y/n replied nervously as Hazel turned to face her, visually alarmed. 

“Actually, L/n. I do mind. Don’t touch my fucking things. I don’t want you near my things let alone touching them. Everything you touch you fucking ruin. Don’t you think you have ruined enough things in my life already ” Hazel exclaimed loudly pulling on her hair while towering over her. Y/n looked up from her seat nervously scared of what was to come watching Hazel’s uneven breathing and pissed off face. 

“You don’t mean that Hazel, you’re just high” Y/n replied attempting to stand up but instantly Hazel pushed her down trapping her on the couch with her hands on Y/n’s shoulders. Y/n froze dead in her spot not knowing the things that were going through Hazel’s head. 

“Oh, I meant every single thing. Do you think I forgot what you did? You know what… You’ve always hated me for having everything, everything you ever wanted. But there’s a difference between you and me. Everything I have, I’ve worked for it. Never had I made someone fall in love with me so they would write me songs. I would never waste someone’s time. At least I’m actually talented to do my work. At least all my awards and all my fame is because I’m actually talented.”  Hazel yelled, taking Y/n by the chin to make her look at her.  She was pissed and she needed to take her anger on someone. 

“I just did the same thing your mom did” Y/n replied nonchalantly while looking up from her lashes. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Hazel asked confused, leaning down, inches away from Hazel.

“I fucked the person in charge just to get what I wanted. Just like your mom did so you could have the success you have” Y/n replied softly, but as those words left out her mouth she instantly regretted it watching the life leave Hazel’s face. She angrily let go of her face, taking a deep breath and picking up her guitar case. 

“Go to hell, Y/n. You’ve changed, all  this fame has gotten way past your head” 

“Where are you going, Hazel?” Y/n said standing up from the couch and following close behind. 

“If I'm such an untalented person and I’m in the band because of my mom. I bet they don’t need me for tomorrow's show. You’ll do a great job explaining that to management. Now do me a favor and go to hell” Hazel yelled, slamming the tour bus door on Y/n’s face. 

...

thank you for reading!

previous imagine

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories | Eleven | Azriel x Rhys' little sister! Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Shadows dance around you as you stand in the hall of the townhouse. You hadn’t stepped foot inside of it before. Hardly even paid any attention to it when you were little. You were sure Rhys had to have updated the interior. Because the townhouses on this block were nice, sure, but not nearly as cozy as this one seemed. 

Outside, the city was buzzing with life. So much so that it made you want to shrink away even further. Run to the mountains again, lock yourself away in the house of wind. Cassian and Azriel both resided there….you wouldn’t be alone. But you couldn’t face leaving Rhys, even if he had Feyre to worry about. 

First taking her to the prison, then taking her to the Weaver. He had to be insane. He wouldn’t clue you in on what was happening in the world, but you knew something had to be going on. He made mention of feeling safer once you were in Valaris, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him. But you did hear him. And you would press him on it later. But now you needed to find your own footing again. 

“He had the twins set up a room for you,” Azriel said softly, hand gently resting on your shoulder, “No one can get in this house without permission, Rhys saw to that. And that includes me and Cass.” 

“Cassian,” You breathed out, suddenly remembering the man who was once like a second brother to you, “Where is he?” 

You spin around to face Az, and the door. There’s a look of surprise on Az’s face. The last time you saw Cassian, you’d punched him hard enough to break his nose. You had gotten into an awful fight with one another, that didn’t end until his blood was dripping on the floor. You remembered feeling a sense of satisfaction at the sight of him bleeding everywhere. 

“Sulking,” Az’s lips turned up slightly, “He wanted to go to summer, but he’s since been banned from the court for destroying a building or two.”

“He what?” You questioned, eyes darting back to meet his. 

“Story for another time.”

“Can you bring him here?” You question, not ready to fly at all, let alone to the House of Wind. 

“Why don’t we fly to him?” Az rose his eyebrows in a question. 

You shook your head, backing away from him just a step, “I don’t want to fly.” 

You didn’t want to summon your wings, something you hadn’t done since the day you were taken. You hadn’t allowed yourself that one pleasure, not when your mother’s wings were so cruelly cleaved from her body. Not when you had two long, thick, scars running down the length of your back from where Tamlin’s brothers cut into your flesh, thinking somehow they’d bring out the wings that were once there. 

“You don’t want to fly?” He questioned slowly, “You love to fly.” 

Your head shakes again as he tucks his wings impossibly tighter to his body, as if he was trying to hide them amongst the shadows that dwelled there. He didn’t know in full what happened to you, or at least you hoped he didn’t. You hoped his shadows hadn’t reported to him as it happened, only adding to the chaos of him trying to reach you in time. 

But by the time he made it to that clearing all that was left was two bodies hacked into pieces, one of your mother and one of your maid that accompanied you everywhere, and more blood than should have been possible. You could remember the way the grass was coated with it, soaking into the earth below. You wondered if it left a stain on that land. 

“Come back to me,” Az whispered, stepping towards you, “Leave all of that behind, and come back to me.”

“I’m right here, Az.” 

“Are you though?” He questioned softly, “Because I’m not so sure you are.”

You shiver with the memories that keep flooding your head. The sound of his voice as he begged you to be strong, that he would be there soon. 

Breathe, you had to remind yourself. Breathe, you’re free again. You’re home in Valaris, you’re with Azriel, and he would never let anything bad happen to you as long as you’re with him. You knew that in your very bones. But it didn’t make this any easier. 

Little Star?

Rhys’ voice made you jump, forgetting for a moment that you could still speak to one another. It seemed strange having him in your head after so long apart, you hadn’t even noticed the feeling of his mental claws gently stroking your mind. 

I’m okay. I promise Rhys. 

Az doesn’t seem to think so.

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to send a vulgar gesture down the line back to Rhys. Instead you flopped down in a near by chair. 

Az needs to mind his own business for once. 

Go flying with him. Please.

Go tell Feyre she’s your mate, dear brother, and I’ll think about it. 

He retracted from your mind with that. The feeling of him being gone left you feeling utterly empty. You’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone else in your mind, how full you felt. Full of life, full of thought. Full of emotion and oftentimes joy. 

“Don’t rat me out to my brother,” You grumble at Azriel. 

“I’m just worried,” He admits, stepping to sit on the edge of the chair across from you. 

“You have no reason to worry,” You try to convince him, acting as if you’re brushing off some dirt from your shoulder. 

“I think I have every reason,” He said so softly you almost didn’t hear him, “Why won’t you come flying with me?” 

You shake your head again, “If you witnessed what I did that day, you wouldn't want to fly either.”

Her screams echoed in your ears. Terror ripped through your bones again, no matter how hard you tried to fight it. You remind yourself again and again that you’re safe, and free, and home. Because this place felt more like a home than the House of Wind ever did.  

“You weren’t there, you couldn’t understand,” You told him quietly. 

“Don’t remind me that I failed you, Y/N.”

“You didn’t fail me.”

“I didn’t make it to you in time,” He replies, “I failed you in that way, and in every way after for the last few hundred years. I gave up on you.”

“Everyone did,” You simply shrugged, “I even gave up. I don’t blame you for what happened that day.”

The sound of mighty wings cut off any reply that Azriel could have, before the door was being shoved open and Cassian came quite literally running inside. His hair was half up in a messy bun, dripping with sweat. His shirt was haphazardly thrown on, like he’d been in the throws of training when someone, probably Rhys, told him to get his ass down to the townhouse. He looked around, chest heaving with every breath. He wasn’t out of shape, no he was far from that. But you’d watched him train before, you knew how hard he worked. And you could imagine he was panicked, just by the look on his face. 

He dropped the broadsword he held in his hand, staggering forward a few steps. You gently stood, not wanting to spook him. But he already looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and maybe he had. Because you certainly felt like a ghost of who you’d once been. A ghost of the person that used to laugh alongside Cassian at everything. 

“Y/N?” His voice broke, “Brother, what kind of trick is this?” He turned his full attention to Azirel, demanding answers. 

Azriel said nothing though, only inclining his head towards you. A silent confirmation. Tears filled the general’s eyes as he looked you over, trying to reconcile the girl he once knew when the women standing before him. 

Your own eyes glossed over as you watched him. He shook slightly, so slightly it could’ve been missed, if you weren't paying so close attention to him. He surged forward, so quickly he was nothing more than a blur of dark hair and wings as he scooped you up in his arms, pulling you from the ground. He held you as tightly as he possibly could, sobs leaving his body. You couldn’t stop your own sobs as they shook your whole body. Clutching onto him, you breathed in his scent. Something distinctly Cassian and the smell of sweat. Truthfully, he reeked and needed a bath. 

“How are you alive?” He cried, not so discreetly, “We helped Rhys bury your body.” 

“No, you didn’t. That’s what they wanted you to think,” You try to explain, “It was Michaa that you buried.” 

“But-” 

“Don’t grill her on this, Cass,” Azriel warned, finally speaking. 

Cassian set you down and held you at arm’s length, finally really looking you over. You’d grown taller since the last time he saw you. He assumed in another life, you would've been fuller too, but you still looked gaunt even after a while away from the spring court. Your hair was longer and darker, much like Rhys’. Your eyes weren’t as bright as they once were, but the light was slowly coming back to them. You were slowly coming back to life. 

“I missed you, Cassi,” You sniffed, knowing how much he hated that nickname when you were children. But you couldn’t say Cassian when you first met him. 

“Cauldron boil me,” He groans out, using the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes, “I never thought I’d hear you call me that again.”

“I need a drink,” He says suddenly, making his way into the kitchen, “Az?” 

“Pour me one too.” Az nods his head, sinking into the chair once more. 

He looked older, and yet just as young as you’d seen him the last time. But with the way he held himself, you could tell that he’d seen many horrors in the hundreds of years that you’d been gone. He’d dealt with too much. 

“Me too,” You agree, sinking into your own chair, feeling the weight pulling you down. 

“You aren’t old enough,” Was Cassian’s quick response. 

You raise an eyebrow at him in challenge, “I’m old enough to fuck, therefore I’m old enough to drink.” 

Both males cringe, eyes going wide, wings flaring. You groan out, realizing what you’d just said. You were sure Rhys had figured it out already, why you smelled so much like Lucien when he saw you on Firenight. Why you still smelled faintly like the male.

“I’ll get it myself,” You push yourself up again and push past Cassian, “Territorial male bastards.” 

Both males follow you into the kitchen as you grab for the decanter tucked on the corner of the counter. The room feels almost too small with both of them and their wings closing in on you. You felt trapped again. 

“Who,exactly, were you fucking?” Azriel asked with cold precision. 

“None of your business, Shadowsinger.” You snap back, downing the knuckles’ worth of alcohol. 

Shadows swirl angrily around you. Some listening to Az, some listening to you. The fought one another, colliding in the middle of the kitchen in a black patch. Cassian’s wings were flared wide muscles tensing. 

“You know I can find out,” Az warns. 

“Can you?” You question, “Because you didn’t even know I was alive for the past few hundred years. How are you supposed to find out anything when you couldn’t even do that?” 

You could physically see the moment the words settled down in him. He jerked back as if you’d hit him, wings suddenly snapping in tight to his body. Even Cassian took a step back. You swallowed, feeling bad for throwing that back in his face. You tried to step towards him, but he only backed out of the doorway and made for the front entrance, slamming the door behind him. You heard the beat of wings a moment later. 

“That was a low blow,” Cass warned you, “Even for you, Y/N.” 

Even for you…because you used to fight with Cass and Rhys, viciously, but never with Az. You never felt the need to fight with him, because he was always on your side. He always seemed to understand you. He knew how far to push you. You, however, pushed him too far this time. 

You could feel yourself sink. Head hung low as you looked at the glass in your hands. You didn’t know how to be around people anymore. It seemed odd, being free again. Being back with your family, even though Rhys and Amren were gone in Summer with Feyre. You longed for Mor, who seemed to have made herself scarce, knowing you’d need time to sort out yourself. You wished she wouldn’t have left you alone with the boys though. You were making a complete mess out of everything.

“ Cass, I-” 

“Don’t apologize to me,” He shook his head, “Find Az and apologize to him. He beat himself up for centuries for not making it to you in time. I seem to think he’ll blame himself until the day he dies.” 

“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” You admit to him, so softly you aren’t sure if he hears. 

He’s quiet for a time, so very quiet that you can hardly make out the sound of him breathing, “Do what, Little one?” He finally questions. 

The sound of the name that only he called you, brings tears to your eyes. You curl in on yourself, wrapping your arms around you like a protective barrier. Cassian’s dark eyes softened at the sight, his wings drooping slightly. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you thought of how broken Azriel must feel. It made your chest feel as if it was going to break in two. 

“I don’t know how to live anymore,” You reply, utterly defeated. 

“C’mere,” He opens his arms wide for you, dark eyes shining. You step into his arms, feeling their strength wrap around you. For a moment you feel safe again, like the little girl he once knew, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. We won’t let you down again.” 

“You didn’t let me down the first time,” You promised him, “But I think I might be too broken to fix.”

“No, no one is too broken.”

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