#tasting the sniffs on the breezes

[doomspaniels]

The fuck is this?

The fuck was that?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 1

Was gonna be a drabble roulette. Fuck me, I can't do this right, can I?

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad's friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You push yourself up from the air mattress, feeling the floor through the deflating cushion. You grumble and yawn as you rub your eyes. You stand up, the loose tank clinging to your stomach as you tug the hem of your shorts from the crease of your thigh. 

You don’t lament your accommodation. You know you’re a last-minute addition to the trip. The place is a bit crowded and you’re just happy to not be laid out in the dirt. Still a free vacation is a free vacation. You won’t complain for it. 

You stretch and pad to the door, careful not to disturb the bodies sleeping in the dual bunk beds. You’ve never been to a cottage before. This place is nicer than your house. Even if it’s a bit cramped. 

Your dad always complained about the mortgage and now you know why. He’s struggling to make his monthly payments and keep you in school, meanwhile the neighbour has a whole second house by a lake. You feel worse for your meagre contributions. Your part-time job won’t get your dad his own beach house. 

As you get to the door, you jump at the loud snort the cuts the air. Jacob rolls over and throws his arm over his face. He’s been at it all night. Him and his friends who crowd onto the single mattresses.

You get along but you’re not exactly a part of his usual gang. It was your dad’s idea to come up. You know he forgot it was his turn to have you for the summer. The awkward getaway is better than dealing with another of your mother’s boyfriends. 

Your weight creaks in the floor as you come down the hall and you stop short at the unexpected figure stood before the open windows. You hug yourself as wind blows in from over the water. You stare at Mr. Barber’s broad shoulders as he stands shirtless as he stares out at the morning landscape. 

You should go back. You’re always the first one awake at the sleepover. You lean back on your heel and the floor whines loud enough to give you away. You cringe. 

“Burton--” Mr. Barber grits as he glances over his shoulder, cutting himself short as he sees you. He turns to face you completely and coughs, “sorry, I thought you were your father.” 

“Um, no, sorry Mr. Barber, I was just... awake,” you utter dumbly. 

“Andy,” he corrects you. 

“Right, Andy,” you echo nervously, “I’ll just--” you point with your thumb over your shoulder. 

“It’s fine, I... I--” he stops and looks down at himself. He wears only a pair of shorts, “shoot, I--” he clears his throat and searches around, pulling on the button up hung over one of the dining chairs, “got a bit hot.” 

You notice the couch is all made up; crumpled blankets and a wrinkled pillow.  

“Your dad’s in my room. He had a bit too much fun with the beer,” he sniffs.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you rub your neck. That’s not unusual. 

“You drink coffee?” He asks as he comes forward, “you college girls still have caffeine without all that whip and syrup?” 

You frown at the insinuation. He’s one of those; ‘in my day’, though you sense a flavour of misogyny too. You shrug. 

“I don’t drink coffee,” you answer as he nears, “I’ll have some water and lemon, if you have it.” 

“Lemon water,” he grumbles as he brushes closely, “you on a diet?” 

You squint and let out a scoff, “no.” 

He’s quiet as he looks in the fridge and takes out a large pitcher. His cheek ticks as he thinks, “not that you need to be on one... sorry.” He pours you a glass and slides it to the end of the counter, “no lemons.” 

“That’s fine,” you accept the glass. 

“Well, I was gonna say,” he scratches his beard as he backs up, his shirt still open, revealing his furry chest, “coffee always tastes better out on the dock but... you don’t drink coffee.” 

“Mm,” you hum, “well, thanks for the water. If you don’t mind, I might go out anyway.” 

He nods as he turns, popping open a cupboard to search out the canister of coffee. You linger, waiting for any response. He peels the lid off the container and glances over. His blue eyes makes you shiver. You don't know him very well, he only just moved in your first year of college. Your dad likes him but your his friends never want much to do with you. 

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering--” you begin. 

“Don’t mind,” he answers, “the company, that is.” He turns back to fill the machine and lets out a sigh, “not used to a full house anymore and I don’t think your dad will be up soon enough to share the pot.” He loads the filter and closes the lid on the percolator, “or the others...” 

“Probably not,” you agree. 

He peeks over again as he fills the carafe. You’re suddenly very aware of your own attire, or lack thereof. The loose tank, the floral shorts with the untied drawstring. You sip from the glass and give a sheepish smile. 

“Anyway, I need some fresh air,” you inch away as tap your fingertips on the side of the glass, “maybe I’ll see a few loons before they fly off.” 

His brows rise and fall and he turns his focus back to the sink. He shuts off the water and turns to the machine. You leave him, eager to be away from the tension of your unexpected encounter. On second hand, this is just as awkward as dealing with one of your mother’s random hookups. 

[ashtxrie]

not the coughing disease! (jungwon)

PAIR. non-idol!jungwon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, reader is sick and jungwon is doing his absolute most to help you recover WORD COUNT. 1.1k WARNINGS. none :) NOTES. finally wrote about the loml i love jungwon IN WHICH: you? sick and miserable? under jungwon's watch? impossible.

the door to your room creaks open, and yang jungwon shivers as he peeks inside, holding something behind his back. he looks around the room, his eyes taking in the empty water bottles stacked around your armoire, then to the open window allowing frigid air to breeze inside. 

“it’s freezing,” he says absent-mindedly, unsure of what to do first. he obliges with running over to sit on the side of your bed, staring at you with kind eyes.

“what’re you doing in here?” your voice is hoarse as you speak, and you cough suddenly. you jerk your head to the side, leaning up as your chest contracts. “you can’t be in here won, you’re going to get sick—“

jungwon smiles at you with the same soft expression, putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you back down. “stay here, you’re sick.” he sniffs, then looks around, amused. “the healing energy in your room is all wrong.” 

you give him a questioning look before sniffling. "since when were you into that kind of stuff?"

he ignores you as he glances at the cups, the empty bowls, and the tissues strewn along your floor. “[name], that’s disgusting.” he laughs, then grins. “i’m going to help you get better, you’ll see.” 

you sigh, reaching half-heartedly to shove him out. he leans to the side, nimbly dodging your hand. “i’m going to make you the best soup you’ve ever had, just like how jay hyung taught me”

you sigh, stuffing your pillow over your face. “you’re making it really hard for me to hide my feelings right now.” the pillow muffles your voice and jungwon starts to hum a melody he came up with in the kitchen, pots clattering against the stove and the fridge door opening and closing again. you catch him singing a little song about defeating the viruses in your body with the "absolutely amazing scrumptious show-stopping soup" he's making, laughing as he rhymes "fighting disease" with "i'll kick them with my feet".

soon enough, something wafts into your room, and it is strong enough, good enough, for even you to smell with your congested nose and throat that aches when you take in a breath. 

jungwon nudges the door open with the tip of his foot, stepping inside and carrying a tray with two bowls of soup. he places it on the desk beside your bed, then frowns as he remembers the state of your room.

he tsks, the nerve of him, and laughs as you struggle to sit up.  

“stop, stop—“ he says in between laughs, “let me help you.” he grabs a pillow that had fallen to the floor, then gently eases it behind your head, making it easier for you to sit up. 

he reaches for the first bowl of soup and gives it to you, and you smile up at him, taking a sip of the broth.

it’s chicken soup, your favorite. and like usual, jungwon is right, and soup does taste especially good when you’re sick. 

you turn to thank him, but he’s already working on your room, his back turned to you as he picks up the tissues from the ground and throws them one by one into the waste bin near the corner of your closet.

"this one's for you," he teases, turning toward your face as he aims the last tissue at the trash can from your bed. "i'm doing intense projectile motion physics calculations right now, jake taught me."

the tissue lands in its target in a perfect arc, leaving the two of you yelling and pointing at the successful landing in equal shock. jungwon was sure that this was a sign that physics was his calling. you insisted that he just got lucky.

with the ground now clean, he gathers the various cups ("i'll be right back!") and retreats into the kitchen, the faucet turning on as he washes the rest of your dishes and sets them out to dry. 

when he returns, he looks momentarily satisfied, and sits back on the corner of your bed, reaching for the second bowl of soup.

“i still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” he looks at you as he eats, his brown eyes looking into yours.

you frown. “how did you find out?” 

jungwon straightens. “you left my message on delivered. right after i said "i love you" too. and you never do that!”

you smile sheepishly. “oh. that must have been when i was sleeping... i'm sorry wonie.” you hold his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers. "but that means i can just say it now right? i love you too, jungwon."

jungwon smiles, and a hint of adoration flickers in his eyes. “i figured you weren’t feeling well, i mean, either that or i had done some horrible offense in the past 24 hours— so i just dropped by to check on you anyway” his eyes sparkle, and he stands up. "you didn't leave your boyfriend on seen. i was about to septuple-text you, damn whatever those double-texting rules say."

you’re about to respond, but you cough from your attempt to laugh.  you hurry to set your bowl on the side of the desk and throw the covers aside, rushing over to the bathroom. 

jungwon can hear your coughing growing worse as you spit out phlegm, and he sighs, twisting his lips into a flat line. he looks at the window, sighing as he sees it open, and reaches to pull it shut. the glass is misty and speckled with raindrops, and he remembers just how cold it is outside. 

when your return, jungwon smiles at you holding a large, fluffy blanket. he throws it over your form as you lay back down, and he reaches for your phone to choose his favorite playlist. 

“won, put that down.”

he looks up at you, confused.

“my phone has germs. you’ll get sick.”

jungwon shrugs, continuing to browse through your music library.  his finger rests on the playlist with a photo of the two of you, and he clicks on it.  

“i remember this one,” he says with a huge smile on his face. “remember we made it together last year?”

you nod, already fighting away drowsiness.

the music fills your room, and you sigh, happy. jungwon is here, the music is soft and beautiful, and you’re happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

“thank you,” you finally breathe out, letting your eyes flutter shut as you doze off. "i love you so much."

when jungwon is sure you’ve fallen asleep, he reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“bye, [name]. i love you more.” 

he stands up, softly closing the door behind him. 

[chiisana666]

a sweet treat

synopsis: luffy's heightened senses can evidently pinpoint more than just the smells of delicious food

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, implied virgin! luffy x fem! reader, pussy drunk! luffy, menstruation, cunnilingus, me making things up, dubious consent, pussy sniffing, nasty, inappropriate use of gum-gum powers, out of character for luffy (idk it's subjective), hair pulling, no p in v

wc: 2141

notes: image sourced from pinterest, credits for dividers here. not beta-read. this the first fanfic i've written in 8 or 9 years, i hope y'all like it. i'm excited to start writing more :)

Up until today, you had been handling your first period at sea fairly well. Perhaps it was the change in latitude, or your change in attitude, but the seas had a mysterious ability to ward off Mother Nature for many months. Nami and Robin had been quick to reassure you that the extension of your menstrual cycle was not unexpected; they, too, had experienced this bizarre phenomenon when they had each first set sail, respectively.

But after several months of peace, your luck had appeared to run out, and Mother Nature had reclaimed her stake in your body once more. The salty ocean air did little to soothe your cramps, but Nami and Robin had been more than happy to help lighten your chore load, allowing you to focus more on taking care of yourself. All in all, the first few days were a breeze.

Then the third day came. You could feel the squelching between your thighs as you stirred awake and groggily stumbled to the bathroom to freshen up. It was going to be a heavy flow day, but that would not be your main problem. No, the issues began when you made your way onto the deck of the Thousand Sunny.

Luffy sat, relaxed against the mast on the lower deck, hat tilted to shield his face from the glaring sun when a scent wafted by his nose. He immediately perked up and deeply inhaled; it was saccharine, rich with undertones of iron, and oh-so delectable. Luffy had to find whatever delicious treat was emulating such an intoxicating smell. Rising to his feet, he inhaled again and let his nose lead the way.

Luffy had stalked across the lower deck and climbed the staircases to the uppermost deck at the stern of the ship, pausing every few steps to take a sniff and ensure he was still on the right track. The scent, he found, led straight to you, who was leaning over the rail, gaze fixed on the waves ebbing and flowing alongside the Sunny. You were entranced when suddenly startled from the serene view by a figure at your back and a nose prodding at your neck.

“What the hell!” you shrieked as you whipped around to confront whichever man had decided to perve on you this time. Expecting to find Sanji, you were shocked to be faced with the wide-eyed, raven-haired captain.

“What’s that smell?” he asked after a brief, awkward stare-down between the pair of you, a dribble of drool breaching the corner of his mouth.

“Smell! What-“ you careened your head to the side in an attempt to sniff yourself, “What smell, Luffy?”

Luffy dropped to kneel before you, hands grasping at your hips and pulling your pelvis to his face. He pushed his nose into your lower abdomen and inhaled again, letting out a stifled groan as he peered up to meet your eyes.

Your jaw slightly hung open, hands gripping the rail behind you, “Luffy, what are you-“

You were cut off by Luffy wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging your body into him, a small squeak escaping your throat as your thighs hit his chest.

“Smells s’good…” he sighed, “Lemme have a taste.”

You eyed him for a moment, taken aback at how suddenly forthcoming your captain was acting. Of all the perverts on the ship, Luffy was the last one you would have expected to be on his knees, practically begging to eat your pussy. And in such a public setting no less. Not that you necessarily minded; Luffy had many attractive qualities that had left lingering thoughts in your mind on more than one occasion. But even so, this type of behavior was very unbecoming of him and somewhat concerning.

“Luffy… are you alright?” You inquired, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead beneath the brim of his hat. He nuzzled up into your hand and pawed at your hips, which remained entrapped between his forearms and torso.

“Wanna taste,” he repeated, “please…”

And who were you to deny him? Especially when he asked so politely. You reached down and gingerly caressed his cheek, brushing your thumb across the faint scar beneath his left eye. He mewled like a bitch in heat – a tad ironic considering it was you who was menstruating. Without saying another word, you wriggled free from his grasp and sauntered towards his private quarters. Luffy was quick to beeline behind you, tethered to an invisible leash that you held in your grasp.

Upon entering his quarters, you perched yourself on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, right leg crossed over your left. Luffy stood near the door, suddenly finding himself unsure of how to proceed. He hadn’t expected his investigation to conclude that the sweet smell was emulating from your cunt, and the reality of the situation began to sober his drunken mind. He had never even seen a pussy before, let alone touched or tasted one. Luffy rarely even thought about sex; not that he was a completely hopeless virgin, no, he wasn’t stupid when it came to sex. But before now, there had been more important things that garnered his attention. So, for the first time in a very long while, he felt lost.

You were quick to notice his sudden apprehension and your gaze softened as you called to him, “C’mere Lu.”

He approached the bed and took ahold of your outstretched hand. Your thumb soothingly grazed his knuckles, “We don’t have to do this-“

“No!” And he was back, the scent that kissed his nostrils reminding him why he was here. He had to have a taste.

You smirked at him, tugging off your shorts and underwear. He caught a glimpse of the pad tucked into your panties as you discarded them on the floor but paid little mind. He didn’t care if his meat was a little bloody, why would pussy be any different? Besides, laundry day was on the horizon anyway.

You crawled towards the headboard, resting your upper torso against it, and spreading your legs, giving Luffy a full view of your crimson-tinted flower. Almost too eagerly, he pounced on the bed and fixed himself between your thighs. The smell that first caught his attention was stronger than ever. He inquisitively raised an index and ring finger to spread your lips, running his middle up along your slit, before bringing them to his lips. Luffy’s eyes rolled back, and he moaned at the taste, a mixture of your essence and blood danced on his taste buds, and he savored every drop. It was heavenly.

“Oh Lu…” You sigh, one hand entangled in his inky locks, keeping his face and tongue anchored to your pussy.

Luffy’s straw hat and red vest lay on the floor beside his bed, having been carelessly tossed aside long ago. He’s relentless, ravaging your pussy like a starved man. And in a way, he is starved. He cursed every day you had spent on his ship thus far not in his bed. Perhaps it was idolatrous of him, but Luffy vowed to worship you for every waking moment that you remained a part of his crew. Perhaps he had finally found the One Piece.

Luffy has one arm wrapped around your right thigh, and the other stretched up to fondle your breasts and tweak your nipples through the cotton of your tight top, all while lapping at your hole and suckling your clit. You had long since slipped down the headboard, head now thrown back against one of his pillows. Breathy moans slip through your agape lips with ease. As hard as he tries to keep his gaze transfixed on your angelic face, wanting to burn the image into his mind, he finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open, drowning in his pleasure. Between your hand in his hair and your cunt gyrating against his face, Luffy cannot help but grind his hips into the mattress.

A particularly harsh nip to your clit has you yanking his head up by his hair, eliciting a guttural moan from the captain.

“Gentle!” You chastise, taking a moment to relish in his appearance: his chin and lips are painted in a carmine glaze, and his blown-out pupils beg for your forgiveness. “Behave yourself,” you add before shoving his face back into your dripping hole. And Luffy wastes no time getting back to work.

Using the power of the devil fruit, Luffy extends his tongue to fuck deeper into your hole, curling and flicking the wet muscle along your gummy walls. Feeling a familiar pressure building within your core, you maneuver your unoccupied hand down your body, employing two fingers to rub feverous circles on your aching clit. Your captain, generous as he is, is quick to toss your hand aside and replace it with his that had been previously occupied with your boobs. His palm took purchase laying atop your mound, and his thumb strokes your clit in the manner he had just observed you doing.

“Mmm ya learn fast… so g-good f’me,” you heave between moans and spurts of pants, slightly lifting your head to gaze down at him. Luffy, feeling your stare, forces his eyes open to meet yours, subconsciously fucking his hips harder into the mattress beneath him. It was becoming too much for him: between your sweet juices, the praises escaping your lips, and the friction of his denim shorts rubbing his bare cock, he knew he would be cumming soon.

You can feel the vibrations of his moans against your sopping cunt becoming more frequent, increasing in tandem with the shaking of the bed, a result of the violent thrusts of his pelvis.

“F-fuck Lu, gonna c-cum,” you mewled, burying his face impossibly further into your pussy and bucking your hips to match the rhythm of his tongue fucking you and his thumb playing with your clit. You were teetering on the edge of pure euphoria, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you drew near. Luffy was barely holding himself together, so close as well but in desperate need of one thing to send him over.

His tongue brushes along a particularly sensitive spot on the roof of your cunt, and you are pushed over. Your entire body convulses as waves of pleasure electrify you, toes curling and thighs crushing Luffy between them.

The essence of release mixed with the metallic tang of your menses is all Luffy needed, his hips faltering their thrusts as thick ropes of milky cum soil the interior of his shorts. His eyes roll back, and a throaty moan emulates from his stained lips, muffling against your cunt that was still cemented against his face.

Luffy lulls slightly on his side, resting his head atop your left thigh which had since ceased to sandwich his head between your right, eyes still clenched shut and body twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Never before had he felt such intense, unadulterated gratification. He was overwhelmingly high, mind fuzzy from the ecstasy that held him prisoner. Globs of saliva trickle down his tinted chin and pool on your thigh, as tears and beads of sweat stream down his face.

When your consciousness ventured back to reality, you observed his state: Luffy had fucked himself completely stupid, all thanks to your exquisite cunt. The sight is almost as rewarding as your orgasm was. Retaining a quip, you instead tenderly stroke his cheek with the hand that was once knotted in his tendrils.

“Hey, look at me…” you call softly. His bleary eyes inch open, unable to clearly make out your face, “Breathe Lu… did so good honey.”

He takes your command into account, focusing his pants until they calm into deep, controlled breaths. Once Luffy had somewhat composed himself, you used what little strength remained to tug him up towards you. He hovers above you, caging your head in with his forearms. One of your arms snakes around his neck, pulling him down to capture his swollen lips with your own. The kisses are sweet and gentle; moist pops lingering in the air as your lips caress Luffy’s. Your fingers massage at the base of his crown as you two share languid pecks, reveling in intimate bliss.

Disconnecting for a brief moment, you nudged him to the side, and he rolled onto his back next to you. You sat up and tore off your sweat-soaked top before hooking a leg across Luffy, your now naked body sticking to his bare chest. Again, your lips met his, this time more deeply, and sensually than before.

“I think,” you drawled between kisses, still enraptured in the make-out session, fingertips dancing across his scarred chest as they journeyed to the button of his shorts, “I need to taste you now, Captain.”

[writingjourney]

Of Lemon Tarts and Tiny White Rabbits

Secondo, Earl of Griftwood, cannot believe his eyes when a tiny white rabbit scampers into his study. He is stunned even more when he meets the lovely owner of the pet – and promptly falls in love.

pairing: secondo x female!reader // regency AU

content: 4.6k words, regency AU (not 100% historically accurate but I tried), pov third person, forbidden romance, age gap, first kisses, social hierarchies, mildly suggestive at times, soft!secondo, pining and yearning etc., wingman terzo

This is a birthday present for the lovely @tasty-ribz , also special thanks to @angellayercake for encouraging me to bring Snowbell into this story ✨🐰

Masterlist – Ao3 link

The curtains sway gently in the soft breeze that carries a fragrant spring air into his study. Secondo lifts his gaze to take in the lovely view through the open double doors which lead to a balcony and the well-kept gardens of Emeritus Manor. Lush rose bushes climb up the stone walls and wrap around the railings, dark green speckled with the pink of countless flowers. Somewhere in the trees the birds break out in song, their melodic chirping a pleasant background noise that accompanies him as he maintains his correspondence.

After this short reprieve for his eyes, he dips the quill back into the black pot of ink on his bureau. A few more letters and he can settle outside in the shade for his afternoon tea, perhaps even indulge and allow himself a lemon tart to go with it. He can’t remember hiring a new cook and yet he swears the smell of freshly baked pastries has filled the halls of the estate more frequently as of late, their taste tempting even him who is usually not one for desserts.

A movement in his peripheral vision distracts him momentarily but when he looks up there is nothing unusual to be seen. Secondo watches the curtains, assuring himself that it must have been the wind playing tricks on him. With a frown on his face, he focuses back on his letters. After a moment, however, he glances back up, suddenly sensing a presence in the room. When he still cannot detect anything out of the ordinary, he assumes that it must have been a ghost wandering the old halls of the manor – it would not be the first time.

Over the scratching sounds of his quill he almost misses the tiny squeak that passes his ears only a moment later. A mouse? No ghosts that haunt him after all. He lets his eyes roam the walls that are lined with bookshelves, trying to spot any scurrying movements on the elaborately patterned rug that muffles the sound. At last, he glances down to his feet and surprise takes over his stern features.

A white baby rabbit sits next to his shoe, its tiny pink nostrils moving rapidly as it sniffs the leather with utmost interest. The creature cannot be bigger than his palm. Where could it possibly come from? As far as he is aware, they do not keep any rabbits, let alone breed them.

“Snowbell?” The voice that suddenly sounds from the balcony is soft and melodic, a young woman he cannot quite place. “Snowbell, where did you go?”

Her figure appears in the frame a mere moment later and she flinches back when she spots Secondo at his desk through the open doors. She immediately averts her eyes, her hair falling into her face and covering her features.

“Please, forgive me for the disturbance, my lord.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he replies. “I understand you are looking for this little troublemaker here?” 

Secondo leans down to pick up the rabbit. Indeed it fits neatly into his gloved palm and he regrets that he cannot feel the soft fur against his fingers. The bunny breathes rapidly, its small body excited or scared, he cannot quite tell.

“Oh, you found her! Thank the lord, I thought she was lost forever.”

“Will you relieve me of her, then? She seems quite restless.”

The young woman who he cannot remember seeing before cautiously enters and with a lowered gaze approaches his desk. Secondo admires her for a moment, her striking complexion and the mesmerising way with which hair shimmers in the golden sunlight. Young and innocent, the daughter of a servant perhaps if the state of her dress is any indication. Yet it does not diminish her beauty nor her youthful radiance; he can tell that she is perhaps five-and-twenty.

She reaches for the bunny and he hands it over the desk, feeling her fingers brushing against his. Again he regrets the barrier between his skin and the world around him but even so he can tell that the heat has risen to her cheeks. She does not seem to be used to the presence of her superiors. He’s well aware of his reputation as a rather reserved and intimidating employer.

“I am not certain that I know your name,” he says before she can scurry off, skittish like the tiny animal that appears a little taller now in her smaller hands.

She replies with her name and a curtsy, not quite lady-like in practice but Secondo can tell that she must have enjoyed a good upbringing. Perhaps she has experience working for nobility.

“Where do you belong to, my girl?”

“I am François’s daughter, my lord.”

“Ah, sì, the new gardener?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He nods, watching her pet the rabbit with her slender fingers as if to calm herself. “And how do you like it here?”

“It is extraordinarily beautiful, my lord. The estate is magnificent and I quite enjoy the work in the kitchens.”

“The kitchens? So it is you who prepares these scrumptious lemon tarts?”

She nods, smiling a bit shyly. “It is a French recipe, my lord. My mother taught me how to make it when I was a wee girl and she worked for the Earl of Carlisle.”

“Are there any lemon tarts today, per chance?”

“I made a fresh batch just this morning, my lord.”

“Wonderful. Now, bring your Snowbell to safety before she scuttles away again.”

“Thank you most kindly, my lord. I promise to be more careful when I take her outside.”

He watches the young woman’s retreating form, reminding himself not to covet what he should not have. It is quite hard at the sight of such a sublime creature, though he rarely allows himself to indulge in thoughts of his carnal desires. The way she takes care of the animal tells him that she has a kind soul and how he could he ever taint it with his rotten hands?

Secondo stands to take his afternoon tea, looking forward to a generous serving of the fresh lemon tarts. He closes the balcony doors before he departs, his correspondence quite forgotten.

✦ ✧ ✦

He is too absorbed in his brother’s letter to notice the music at first.

When he finally does Secondo stops in the middle of the hallway. Rarely does he hear such sweet sounds these days, busy with politics and finances as he is. Ever since inheriting his father’s title as the Earl of Griftwood he is subjected to ball music, loud opera pieces and the talentless daughters of the other lords of the ton. 

This subdued private concert is much more to his liking. 

He folds the letter and pockets it before investigating the source of the music. Primo has written to him from Italy where his clerical duties keep him occupied. Secondo is relieved to learn that his brother is in good health and filling his new role as the leader of their secret church for which he has forsaken his role as the head of their family. A title that has now fallen to Secondo.

Following the trail of the music carries him further down the hall until he stops in front of a double door that stands slightly ajar. The sitting room beyond is abandoned safe for the person who has taken up residence behind the pianoforte and is now delighting the house with their pleasant tunes. Secondo is not one to swoon but when he discovers the gardener’s daughter, watching as her fingers glide over the keys in an elegant dance, he is quite taken with the sight of her. 

It is only after quite some time that he spots the rabbit in her lap.

The piece ends all too soon but Secondo cannot bring himself to reveal his position. He watches on as she lifts Snowbell and places her tiny paws on the keys, playing an easy melody as she giggles and compliments her pet’s musical talent. He thinks that the snow white rabbit is an emblem of her most becoming properties – her soft and lovely presence, her gentle disposition and ethereal beauty. Two creatures that heaven must have forged together. Not for a moment does he think he could ever be worthy of her, no matter if his nobility raises him above her in this strict society. She transcends the rules of birthright and social rank, rules that he has always rejected, if not openly. Perhaps this is why he feels so drawn to her – she represents all that he has ever longed for, all that they strive to achieve with their church of Lucifer.

“I did not know we had a musician in the house,” he finally comments. “Or need I say two musicians?”

She jumps, again, startled by his domineering presence that takes over the room the moment he steps inside. After a few deep breaths she recovers and offers a polite greeting. Snowbell sits in her hand now, no bigger than a baby chick and just as restless. Her head rises as if to greet him as well, tiny button eyes shimmering not without mischief.

“Your brother told me it was alright for me to practice in here and that it is his instrument–”

“I am sorry, my dove, I did not mean to accuse you of anything untoward. Of course you may practice your music in here. We have been deprived of such beautiful sounds for way too long with no ladies in the house.”

Her shoulders sink in relief, the tension finally leaving her. “I hear that his lordship is quite a gifted musician himself. As are his brothers.”

“Ah, sì, sì, if only there was more time for it. I find that without pleasant company I cannot persuade myself to dedicate the time.” He steps further inside the room and takes a seat on one of the velvet settees, moderately close to where she’s now lowering herself back on her stool. His black breeches strain over his thighs and he adjusts his emerald green waistcoat that has ridden up, rights the knot in his cravat. “You play well, piccina. How did you come to master the pianoforte?”

“I may not be of noble upbringing, my lord, but my parents used all their means to ensure that I was educated, perhaps more than befits my station.” Her voice is sharp, not unfriendly but defensive nonetheless. “A person’s rank in society does not determine their talent for musical play.”

“I apologise if I offended your sensibilities, my dove. I did not mean to imply that your origin should have anything to do with your capability of learning an instrument.”

“No apologies are needed, my lord. It is true that such opportunities are not provided to many of my status. I cherish my privileges every day.”

Her eloquence and quick wit impress him, the dignified countenance with which she holds herself even in the face of an older man much above her in station. It would be easy to think that she is a noble lady, if it weren’t for her lack of fine clothing and jewellery. He fights off the urge to accoutre her, to dress her in the finest garments he can find in all of London and Paris or Rome. How lovely she would look with her hair done up, her slender neck exposed for his eyes alone. 

And not just for his eyes.

Before he can inquire any further, Snowbell suddenly leaps from her lap. The rabbit lands on the soft carpet and scampers over towards the settee on her tiny legs.

“Oh, not again Snowbell,” the girl laments, but then she notices the rabbit’s direction and smiles softly. “I suppose she has taken a liking to you, my lord.”

“I hope she is not the only one,” he counters, allowing himself this moment of reverie.

Flustered, she averts her gaze, reacting in much the same way that he hoped she would. “Who could not be taken with him when his lordship is so very generous and kind of heart?”

Secondo smiles to himself as he leans down to pick up the cheeky rabbit, removing one of his dark leather gloves to finally feel the softness of her fur.  “How did you come in possession of such an animal?” he finds himself asking. “She is quite unusual, no?”

“Oh, my father was engaged to work for another noble house in the city just before we came here and he found a nest in their garden. Snowbell was the only white rabbit of the litter. While the children of the house were allowed to keep the other rabbits they thought her cursed and wanted to kill her. I begged him to let me save her and bring her here.”

How charitable, he thinks, saving those who are unwanted, those who are abandoned by God, not differentiating between human or beast. How perfectly she would fit into his family whose ideals and values would have them shunned from society if they lived them openly. Perhaps it was not God who sent her but Lucifer himself. For him to love, to cherish, to worship.

He is aware that he is getting ahead of himself.

Snowbell allows him to pet her but he eventually stands to place the rabbit back in her saviour’s hands. This time, her fingers brush against the bare skin of his palm. A shiver runs through him, tingling down his spine before settling warmly in his lower belly.

Her heated cheeks are evidence that she feels the same way.

“Do you enjoy reading, my girl?” he asks, only now noticing the book she must have placed on the instrument. A romance novel, he notes, not without a hint of disappointment. He could not be any more different from the heroes of such tales if he tried.

“I do, my lord.” She cradles Snowbell gently against her bosom, almost protectively, and he has to tear is his eyes away from the soft skin there. “I am an avid reader when I do find the time.”

“Please, feel free to use my personal library at your convenience. I am sure that you are in want of new reading material. This book appears to be… well-loved.”

“Are you quite certain, my lord? I would not want to impose–”

“Oh, nonsense. Many of the books have been collecting dust for way too long.”

Perhaps this suggestion stems from him wanting her to frequent his spaces and not those of his brother, if only to raise his chances of running into her. If Terzo offered her his instrument then he is sure that his eyes are not the only ones that she has caught. Secondo shares many a thing with his brother, but he will not share her.

“Thank you, my lord,” she says. “I am not sure what I have done to deserve your generosity but I shall cherish it forever.”

“Hm, your services are well-appreciated, my dove. I merely wish to make your life here a little more pleasant.”

She giggles. “His lordship must really like the lemon tarts.”

Her laughter shakes him to his very core. He is tempted to smile, or to tell her that it is not the tarts that have captivated him, but all this foolish impulse does is distort his stern features into a grimace. Before her eyes can linger on him, he departs with quick steps and a racing heart, making sure to leave the door open.

A few moments later the soft tunes of her music accompany him back to his study.

✦ ✧ ✦

The rustling of the page is a steady noise in the background as he works away at the desk he strategically positioned in his library. The expense reports of the estate are all in order and yet he goes over them once more – if only to stretch out the time in her presence. 

He looks up to find Snowbell happily munching on a carrot in her little crate on the floor. His true heart’s desire, however, is reading a romance novel that he so graciously stocked the library with. Not that anyone will ever see a report of this particular expense.

“Are the new books to your liking, my dove?” he finds himself asking.

“They are quite enjoyable, my lord.” She looks up, marking her page before she closes the book. “And yet… I find that I do not want a love like these books promise. It sounds rather boring to me.”

“How so?”

“The true appeal of a person lies in his or her imperfections, my lord. Not even the finest, most handsome young man could tempt me when there is no flaw in his character that captures my interest. If I should ever fall in love it should be with a man much older who has been shaped by the hardships of life, with rough edges but a core that still carries a soft heart that he only shows to those he holds dear. I should like to uncover this heart and have it beat only for me.”

Secondo pauses for a moment. Could it be true? Could a beautiful young woman like her truly fall for an old man such as himself? Accept that their love would be flawed and rejected by society and love him all the more for it? If it is true what she implies then does he dare hope–

“You are quite different from what I expected, my lord,” she says before his thoughts can carry him away. “I have heard many things that I now know to be untrue.”

“And how so?”

“Everyone told me that you were quiet and rather cold, polite but not in the habit of keeping anyone’s company and while generous with your staff they said it is rare to see you outside of your study. And yet… I have only ever sensed your warmth, your generosity, and while you are a private man I feel as though I got to know you merely by being in the same room and striking up idle conversation. You have requested my presence almost daily as of late and I must admit that I find great comfort in spending my time with you, so much so that I feel sad when a day goes by and I cannot see you.”

Secondo stands abruptly, overwhelmed by the sudden sparks of emotion that ignite the fire in a heart he has long since thought to be withered. His long legs carry him to where she is sitting on a plush settee, the golden sun from the window illuminating her like an angel incarnate. She is a dream he finds himself caught in, and not of his own volition.

“My dove,” he says as he kneels down in front of her, grasping her hand tightly in his. “Your companionship is the greatest gift that I have ever received.”

He presses a fervent kiss to her knuckles, quite overcome with his desires. How he longs to pull her into his embrace, to kiss her plump cheeks and soft lips, to keep her trapped against his chest and stroke her hair for hours.

When he meets her eyes, she seems surprised by his sudden outburst, but not at all repelled like he had feared. “My dear lord, how I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

Secondo releases a shuddering breath and buries his face in her lap. When she begins to caress his head, running her soft fingers along the sharp lines of his cheekbones, he feels like he wants to weep.

✦ ✧ ✦

The delivery goes smoothly – until his brother appears in the doorway.

“A new instrument?” Terzo asks. “Whatever for? You could have asked to use mine, fratello.”

Secondo grumbles in reply, wishing his brother would finally leave. He is dressed smartly – a dark purple brocade waistcoat with a matching tailcoat, black breeches, a white cravat, high leather boots and a brand new top hat – ready to leave for a picnic or whatever social event he is planning to attend in pursuit of his latest sweetheart. He has always mirrored Secondo’s expensive taste in clothing but decided that his colour was purple instead of green. If it weren’t for Secondo’s lack of hair and Terzo’s thick black locks their brotherly relation would be uncanny, if not a little ridiculous.

“Do you not have to make an appearance somewhere else?” Secondo asks when his brother lingers while they set up the pianoforte under his watchful eyes. 

“Oh, I still have enough time to observe my brother’s folly. Tell me, did she bewitch you so that you are wasting the family’s funds now? How exactly do you plan on introducing the gardener’s daughter to polite society, fratello?”

A deep breath. Secondo cannot strangulate him in front of the suppliers. “I do not know what you are talking about. I merely wish to possess an instrument of my own.”

“Mhm and the ornate rabbits carved into the wood? Are those to your taste as well?”

“I am very fond of animals. I quite enjoy the design, do you not find it endearing?”

Terzo merely chuckles in reply, the words altogether unfamiliar from his bother’s tongue, and pats his shoulder with a heavy hand. “I will make sure that the pamphlets are filled with someone else’s transgressions, should you decide that a diversion of the ton’s attention is needed in light of your imminent marriage to a commoner.”

Secondo refuses to argue with him, Terzo is too smart for that. Instead he waits until they are alone again and his brother further inspects the pianoforte. The tunes he lures from the keys are splendid, much richer in sound than any he has heard before. A good investment, Secondo decides.

“What a splendid instrument,” his brother says. “I shall hope that your little rabbit plays it for you on many an occasion.”

“I plan to have her play it for me every day for as long as I live.”

Terzo raises a brow. “So you do intend to propose? My, my! I did not expect you to ever let go of your determination to stay alone for the rest of your days. What has changed?”

“I met the loveliest creature to walk this earthly plane, fratello, I have been touched by her angelic hands and saw the true meaning of paradise. I do not care much what polite society has to say about our union. I am quite ready to be selfish after I sacrificed my freedom for this family.”

“And politics, your favourite subject?”

“I do not plan to advertise this marriage, fratello. I shall be ready to face all the consequences, for her love will carry me through the worst of it.”

“Oh, how you have changed!” Terzo snickers but not unkindly. “I am very happy for you, brother mine. She will make a lovely wife for an old grump such as yourself.”

“You are just as old,” Secondo says dismissively. “And yet you act like a bachelor in the prime of his youth.”

“And I shall continue to do so for as long as I can. If you will excuse me now, I have a rendezvous to attend and I am already late.”

The moment Terzo departs, Secondo allows his own hands to explore the pianoforte. He is quite out of practice but the finely tuned instruments sounds wonderful even under his stiff fingers. An old song finds its way into his head and he allows his memory to do the rest of the work.

When he finally finishes, he is pulled from his trance by the loveliest of voices.

“My lord, you asked for me,” she says timidly as she approaches him. “I do not wish to interrupt when you play such lovely songs.”

“You are not interrupting, my dove. Please, come here, sit down in my stead. This is yours now.”

“Oh, but my lord–” She trails off, her pupils widening at the sight of the brand new instrument.

He is not certain what he did to upset her. “If you would rather play a harp or a lyre–”

“No, no, that is not what I mean, my lord. I just… I am not worthy of such an expensive gift.”

“Oh, but my dove, you are more than worthy. And it is not entirely selfless. I hope I will be hearing your sweet music more often while I am working in here.”

She smiles affectionately. “I shall play for his lordship whenever he wishes. I shall… I shall play until my fingers hurt!”

“I would never allow for this to happen,” he decides, reaching for her hands and massaging them gently in his. “No pain may befall my dearest for as long as I am here to prevent it.”

She holds his gaze, hope shimmering in her irises. “I shall play with caution then, I would not want my lord to be in distress on my behalf. Would you hold Snowbell for me, please?” 

Before she sits, she pulls the rabbit from the pocket of her dress where the she must have napped for she perks up sleepily when she is set down in his broad hands. Secondo does not make a move to stand.

“My lord–”

He uses his free hand to pull her into his lap and she gasps before her fingers find the keys. He can feel her shivering against his chest, her breathing as rapid as his heartbeat.

“I am not sure that I can play under his lordship’s scrutiny,” she whispers.

“I am quite certain that you can.”

With another shaky breath she begins to play. Heavenly tunes fill the room, her hands working their magic on the keys of the fine instrument. It is a song he has not heard before, slow and rather quiet but all the more powerful on his emotions. Her confidence soon returns and she plays in the same carefree way that he has grown to enjoy, only this time she is in his space, where she belongs. She is in his arms, breathes the very same air that flows through his lungs, and he can sense that he made the right choice.

The moment her hands come to a stop, he places Snowbell back in her palms and turns her sideways over his lap. Flustered by the proximity she glances down to her hands, only to notice that the rabbit has a white ribbon loosely tied around her body.

“I will ask your father for your hand,” Secondo says bluntly and her eyes widen.

“My lord, that is… it is impossible.”

“It will be possible, if it is your wish as well.”

“But, I am just–”

He stops her, taking her chin between his fingers to force her eyes to meet his. “My dove, I need a clear answer.”

“Yes.”

Overcome with relief he closes the distance and devours her lips in a passionate kiss. She presses against him with the same fervour, though careful not to squash the rabbit in her hand. Her body feels heated underneath the thin fabric of her cheap dress and he vows to have the modiste come the very next day to take her measurements. His hands roam her curves without shame now while he ravishes her, kissing her with a passion that threatens to make his heart burst, unused as it is to such feral emotion. She tugs at his cravat then, and he relents, allowing them both to break away for air.

Her forehead falls against his, their noses brushing as their heavy breaths mingle in the space in between. Suddenly Snowbell squeals in her palm and when they both look down the rabbit leaps from her hand onto the keyboard. As the off-key notes penetrate the room, they both smile. Perhaps they have to hire a different musician for the wedding after all.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

[rattkachuk]

💛 mattdrai after the scf

💛 reunion kiss / relief - ao3 link !!!!!

It’s a late summer in Ontario, and golden sunshine filters through the curtains through one of Connor and Lauren’s many guest rooms, bird song accompanying the breeze through an open window. Leon is sunburnt and its a few days out from Connor’s wedding, and with the amount of events and activities he’d been a part of as one of the groomsmen it was almost enough to make him feel as tired as he was during hockey season. He had to allow himself an hour or so to just do nothing but mindlessly scroll Instagram in the quiet of his room.

He’s pretty sure everybody staying here is doing the exact same thing, there’s some faint voices from the dock on the lake, someone might be watching TV out in the living room, the doorbell rings (probably another McDavid-Kyle family member) and Leon hears a single set of footsteps go to answer the door. It’s all muffled background noise and several minutes pass without Leon thinking much of any of it, until a text pops up on his screen from Connor.

Connor: hey. don’t be mad. he wouldn’t take no for an answer and he rly wants to see you.

There’s no time to process before there’s a gentle knock at the door.

Leon’s fight or flight kicks, seemingly cancelling each other out so he feels like a deer in the headlights and can do nothing but sit still on the bed. “Yah?

The door handle turns and Matthew is standing on the other side. Fucking perfectly endearing smile on his face, and Leon feels his heart twist.

“Hey,” Matthew speaks first, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder as he rocks back and forth on his feet in the doorway.

Leon blinks, finally finding words, “What are you doing here?”

“Uh. Connor’s wedding?”

“Connor didn’t invite you.”

“I was supposed to be your plus one.”

Leon bites his lip and gives a slight shake to his head before making himself get off the bed, walking over to tug Matthew in by the elbow of his sweater—a Puma sweater that Leon had been missing for months now.

The door clicks shut and Matthew lets his bag fall to the floor, “You don’t want me here?”

“Matthew. I don’t know.”

“Okay…well, you haven’t answered a single call or text from me since June, and I already had the tickets booked, if you didn’t want me here you should have fucking said something. How am I supposed to…I don’t know what to do either, this is new territory for me, too, y’know? But I can’t keep waiting around. I need you to talk to me, Leon. So, I'm sorry if this is the only way I can get a conversation with you.”

Leon walks away to create distance between them, going as far as the walls of the room will let him as he buries his face in his hands. His chest hurts while his head is swimming, and an ache that hasn’t left since that final game 7 buzzer surges to the surface and it makes him feel sick. Underneath it all, there’s the bitter taste of regret like bile in his throat. He wasn’t there for Matthew. Wasn’t able to be a normal fucking partner and celebrate with him because he was too busy nursing one of the worst pains he’d ever felt. Something so gnawing and deep that left him feeling empty most days, and so distant from those he loved. So distant that even with Matthew here in front of him, it's hard to look at him.

When he turns back towards him, there’s tears in Matthew’s eyes and he’s not even trying to stop them as they track down his cheeks.

“I’m not sorry for winning,” Matthew tells him, voice thick.

“No. Matthew. You shouldn’t be,” Leon sniffs and takes a minute to choose his words before continuing, “You deserved it, you deserved every second of it. It just. It hurts. You know?”

“I do know,” Matthew looks towards the ceiling and laughs, dry and devoid of any real humour, “This whole time I just kept thinking about how special it would be to celebrate this whole fucking with you, and I can never do that because I know exactly what it feels like.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck,” Matthew agrees with pursed lips.

Guilt raises it’s hand for a turn in Leon’s sea of emotions, bustling to the front of the line as he thinks about Matthew’s unanswered texts in his phone. The strings of ‘I love you’s’ from that week of partying with the cup, the ‘just checking in’ and ‘i miss you’s’.

“I’m sorry I haven’t answered you,” Leon says, looking down at his feet as the shame burns hot on his neck, “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to be what you need. I still don’t know if I can be or if…if we…”

Matthew is the one to close the distance, his hands on Leon’s shoulders causing him to look up with a shock.

“Hey. Stop. I just need you, Leo. I don’t need you to be anything more than you have been, not right now,” Matthew moves a hand to the side of Leon’s face, and there’s desperation in his blue eyes, “We’re getting through this, though. And we’re doing it together now, okay? Come on.”

Something drains from Leon a little as he watches Matthew’s eyes, and the ache under his skin grows. Grows until he feels like he needs to pull away again, hide in some dark corner of the world where Matthew can’t find him until he can fix himself, but then Matthew’s hand gives his shoulder a gentle shake and a different sensation starts to dull the hurt. The touch spreads some rays of warmth to his soul like the forgiving sunshine that curls around them both.

There's a new feeling that he can place almost instantly. Relief. He thinks that maybe the cure for all the hurt and the pain was the exact thing he was avoiding. It was Matthew, of course it was.

Leon kisses Matthew, slow and quiet and different than it had ever been before. He pulls him into his arms and Matthew sighs against him, the lines of their bodies pressed together. Matthew had always carried some infectious energy, always able to crawl under Leon’s skin and make a home there with his smug smile and caring heart. It seeped into him now, making Leon feel the warmest and most content he’d been all summer.

When he pulls back, Leon hides his face on Matthew’s shoulder while the other runs his fingers through Leon’s hair.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Leon breaths quietly against Matthew’s neck.

Matthew’s arms tighten around him, “Me too. We’ve got this, yah?”

Leon nods, and he believes him.

[fredwkong]

Bro, this support job at Chronivac Inc. is really exhausting. I could really use some time off. Something last minute to the Mediterranean would be cool. Mallorca, Antalya, Croatia... I don't care where. Cool would be if it was something with an outdoor gym on the beach....

We can’t have our Chronivac whisperer getting burned out! We’d lose an absolutely essential service if you didn’t get a vacation once in a while. Let’s see here…

Thanks for your booking with FWK Vacations. Your Mediterranean beach getaway is about to begin!

You wake up to the sea breeze on your skin and a tingle in your fingers. You NEED a smoke. You sit up in your beach chair and fumble beside you for your cigars and lighter. Somehow you forgot your lunch hour smoke, and now you’re all jittery. You need at least four a day to keep steady.

You relax as soon as you take the first puff. The taste fills your mouth and the smoke sinks into your mind. You’re a Croatian god, the king of this beach. Your sick muscles and hairy legs make locals and tourists alike kneel before you to slobber on your thick Balkan dick. Not to mention the cloud of cigar smoke that always hangs around you, drawing attention to your virility and manliness.

You blow a smoke ring at a bro walking by, and he wrinkles his nose at you. Asshole. He should be worshipping you for even looking at him. Your phone buzzes with a notification. Chronivac? The hell? Some kind of fantasy roleplay shit. You type “White boys can’t resist Balkan pheromones. It’s totally normal for a Balkan alpha to have his cock out with some white boys fighting over it.”

The world blurs, and the bro’s between your legs, reverently pulling down your board shorts to sniff the potent pheromones seeping from your dick and balls. That's just the way things are.

Enjoy your vacation!

Want to go on vacation? Drop me an ask!

[cherryredstars]

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Gods AU, Sprinkled Fluff, Mentions of Injured Animals

Summary: It is as the prophecy foretold.  

Word Count: 1.2K (Not Edited)

The light is a golden white. 

The monument is beginning to form cracks in its delicate marble, foreshadowing the crumbled state it will begin to take as time rushes forward. The night air is warm, chased with the occasional breeze. Footsteps echo in the hollowness, a cloaked figure descending the steps of the shrine. The wind comes to greet the figure, playfully trying to detach the pure white cloth from their form. The moon comes to greet them too, lighting the path to the village in silver. From a distance, the figure seems to glow with the moon.

The village is silent, warm from the late night candles that are now extinguished. It is shielded in darkness, but a bittersweet taste is hanging in the air, just like the townspeople said. It is familiar, bordering on fearful and comforting. Under wooden doors, light teases to escape from the homes but thinks better of it and stays to warm the residents. As the figure walks through the empty dirt road, scattered randomly with stones, the crickets and night owls quiet. 

A dog, skinny and wobbling on a broken paw sits in a dark crevice between two homes. The figure walks to the entrance of the small slit, staring down at the animal. Instead of cowering and running away, the dog tries to crawl forward. Its body is too heavy to support itself, protruding ribs weighing down its skinny legs. It tires easily, barely moving a foot before it shifts its head up to look at its cloaked savior. A pitiful whimper rumbles from its throat, silencing when the figure brings a finger to its mouth. The figure bends down, their hand hovering over the dog’s face like they are closing its eyes. The dog's eyes grow heavy, head lowering to rest on its paws. The figure gets up, leaving the dog in its place before continuing their journey. A few seconds later, a puppy of the same moonlight silver follows, tripping over its paws. 

The puppy weaves around the figure’s legs yapping in a pitch only they can hear. The puppy seems excited and nostalgic, tumbling and chasing fireflies. The two make it to the edge of the village. They stand at the entrance of a thick forest. The leaves and trunks are dense, preventing the shining of the moon. The figure walks ahead, stopping as the puppy hesitates and gives chase once again. It is colder in the forest, but the figure continues weaving in and out of trees. They do not seem to have an exact location in mind.

Suddenly, cold and deadly arms wrap around the figure’s waist. The figure stills momentarily. Then, they reach up. They grasp the material of the cloak’s hood delicately, pushing it off their head as they look over their shoulder. 

The figure--a woman--has shiny skin. Her hair flows from her head and her eyes shine with a comforting warmth that feels like you are coming home after a long and cruel journey. Her aura and face promises protection and all that you’ve been secretly longing for. 

“Cariño, you always know where to find me,” the second figure hums. 

It is a man, his dark apparel contrasting with his lover’s white clothes. He seems harsher, more final. But, matching with his other half, he gives a subtle comfort. It can only be found in a darkness, revealed to those who are brave enough to enter it. His features are sharp and defined, instead of soft and rounded. 

“I brought you a present, Miguel,” the woman responds. Both turn to the ground, watching the glowing puppy who tilts its head in curiosity. 

“I see,” Miguel murmurs. 

His arms unwind from the woman, crouching to the ground. He holds his hand out, slightly translucent and resembling bones. Hesitance engulfed the small dog again, put it steps forward and sniffs Miguel’s hand. Its tail begins to wag as it realizes what is to come. It yelps excitedly, spinning and jumping in circles before pushing its head into Miguel’s hand. Both gods chuckle, eyes softening as Miguel scratches behind its ear. The puppy pulls away, looking at the two of them one last time before licking Death’s hand. A strong breeze comes through the trees and the dog disappears with it. 

They stay paused for a moment, giving nature and its spirits their moment before Miguel gets up again. The two gods face each other, the woman holding her hand out. Miguel takes it, winding his arms around her waist once again. The Guardian throws her arms around Miguel’s neck, delicate fingers ghosting up and down his back. A dark rumble escapes his chest, his face falling to her neck and nosing at it. She giggles at the gesture, turning her head so her lips hover over his ear. 

“The village smells of death. You scare them.”

A deep sigh leaves Miguel, pulling away slightly to cup the Guardian’s cheek. He presses a soft kiss to the opposite cheek, stalling. The woman is patient, basking in the moment and not rushing Death. He is thankful. 

“They scare themselves,” he whispers back. “Something, a plague or a… hero, perhaps, is soon approaching. Something is stirring, mi luz.”

His goddess hums in thought, eyes glazing over as she peers somewhere behind his shoulder. Her hand on his back stills, hands readjusting to grasp his shoulders. His hands squeeze her sides in comfort, resting his forehead against hers. Her eyes return to his, clearer now. Her beautiful features are marred by a frown, and Miguel’s hand comes to smooth her frown lines away. 

“The temple… it is beginning to crack. It grows colder. The oracle foretold it, but it is too soon.” 

Her voice is calm, but it holds a bit of alarm. Her body grows stiff and Miguel comforts her in a way only he can. He hums in agreement, but there is little else the either of them can do. 

“I know, but we know better than most that time is unforgiving. It does not wait for God or man.”

The Guardian huffs and sinks into her lover’s hold. Some of her warmth seeps into him and he smiles. His hand goes to the small of her back while the other pets her hair. After some time, he pulls away and takes her hand. He guides her back out through the trees, returning to the forest’s edge. The night sky is beginning to lighten, and the moon begins to melt into the sky. Miguel presses his front into her back, kissing the curve of her shoulder. They are silent for a few minutes, watching as the sky clears to make way for the approaching sun. 

“A new age is upon us, mi luz,” Miguel whispers faintly into her ear. “It will be our turn to rest soon.”

A strong breeze comes again, her hair trying to follow. When it settles, the coldness at her back is gone. The Guardian stares at the horizon, that small frown still on her face. With a heavy sigh, she pulls her hood back over her face. Her feet move back through the village, growing further away from the trees. She passes the crook where the dog’s body lays, the crickets and night owls sleeping now. 

An echo comes again from marble steps, a cloaked figure in white disappearing through the column. The sun rises, washing everything in a golden white before the world is silent again. 

Then, the village people open their doors and live as they always have for the last time.

I love God AUs.

[marlynnofmany]

The Ability to Smell Beauty

“Do you smell that?” Paint asked, flicking her tongue out to taste the air, just like the orange-scaled lizard she resembled. “That is LOVELY. Where is it?”

I looked around the forest-lined landing pad. All sorts of plants that I’d never seen before waved on the breeze: tree-things shaped like willows that someone had coated in enough hairspray to make them stand on end, bush-things with leaves that snapped at flies, moss and mushrooms and lumps that could have been frogs or seedpods, or maybe oddly-shaped rocks.

“I have no idea,” I told Paint honestly.

“Help me find it,” she said, striding away from the ship with her shoulder bag held tight and determination on her scaly face.

I glanced back at the captain and several others, who were passing time with an alien card game. The person who was supposed to have delivered our next shipment was late. Nothing else to do but hang around and try not to be bored.

“We’re going to look around a little,” I called, walking after Paint. “We won’t go far.”

Captain Sunlight nodded, her own scaly yellow face focused on the cards. “Scream if you need anything.” Then she triumphantly played a card that made Mur flail his tentacles in aggravation.

I said that I would, and followed my shorter crewmate as she waded into the undergrowth with her tongue flicking madly.

“So what exact smell are we looking for?” I asked, wondering if that was the right word. “Smelling for?”

“It’s kind of sharp, but in a good way,” Paint told me distractedly. “Sharp like a good kitchen knife, like string music, like a poignant memory.”

“Right,” I said, taking an experimental sniff. Everything smelled like alien plants, and not like violins or whatever. “Hm.”

“I think it’s this way. Low to the ground.” Paint scrambled under bushes, getting her bag caught on one of the flytrap mouths.

“Do you want me to carry that?” I asked.

“Yes please.” She held it up, still under the bush. Flytraps slapped at both of us, but weren’t strong enough to do any damage, even to my soft human skin. Paint probably didn’t even notice through her scales.

I shouldered the bag that held Paint’s sketchbook or novel or entertainment screen; whatever she’d brought out for waiting in the sun. I’d been about to go back in for something similar when she’d hared off on this quest.

“Over here!” Paint said, sounding more sure. She rustled out the other side of the bush and made delighted noises. When I made my way around the shrubbery, I found her at the base of a large boulder, gathering walnut-looking things into a greedy pile.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Yes! Smell one!” Paint thrust one toward me.

I took it and sniffed. Not bad. Kind of like cloves, that sort of spicy sharpness that just felt festive. “Huh. Pretty good.”

“Isn’t it amazing?” Paint asked, holding up a double handful and taking an open-mouthed whiff. “Gimme the bag back; I’m taking these with me.”

“Are you sure they’re safe?” I asked as I handed it over. “Do you know what kind of plant they are?”

“Yeah, it’s that one from the store on the beach back home,” Paint said, shoveling eagerly. “The good one I could never find again. I forget the name. Sunlight will know.”

“All right,” I agreed. They really didn’t smell that special to me. It would be interesting to see if Captain Sunlight also treated the things like lizard-alien catnip, or if this was just something that Paint liked. A lot.

When she’d gathered everything on the ground — a few good handfuls — she looked around for more. I spotted one growing from the spindly sapling that poked out of a crack in the boulder, and Paint happily added it to the rest.

“I wonder if there are any other bushes like that,” she said, standing with the bag and studying the trees.

“We shouldn’t go far,” I reminded her. “Gotta stay in screaming range.”

“Sure, sure,” Paint said. “Just a quick look over this way. I think those plants grow near the beach, and I hear waves.”

Remembering Kavlae’s description of the landing pad as being “within dancing distance of the sea,” I put more attention toward the ambient sounds. That wasn’t all windblown foliage after all.

Paint was already disappearing into more bushes, so I hurried after, not wanting to lose track of her. “Slow down! I’m sure they’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes, but they’re so beautiful!” she said from somewhere ahead. “There are whole worlds in that smell. Don’t you think so?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay?? It’s gorgeous! I want to decorate my room with them, and smell these every day! You really don’t think it’s that big a deal?” Paint sounded insulted.

“I think my nose just works a little differently from yours,” I said gently. “I’m sure they’re very nice.”

Paint huffed, pushing through the leaves harder and muttering something uncomplimentary about a nose that couldn’t smell beauty.

I had to laugh. “There are plenty of good smells out there,” I said. “And I don’t need my nose for beauty; I have my eyes for that.”

“Really,” Paint grumbled. “If you can’t appreciate this, then forgive my doubts.” She was still grumping about loveliness and the ability to sense it when she shoved through the last of the bushes. “Well, there’s the beach,” she said. “No trees, crackle it. Let’s go back.”

I ducked under a leafy branch to join her just as she turned to go. The view stopped me in my tracks.

Blue waves crashed against a beach made of glittering gemstones, sprawling as far as the eye could see in either direction. Every color under the sun, fist-sized and head-sized and a fine shimmering sand, washed bright by the waves. I could swear that native birds somewhere were singing a dramatic crescendo of a symphony, though maybe that was just in my head.

“Paint,” I said, not moving. “Can I borrow your bag? I’ll carry it back for you.”

~~~

Further adventures in backstory for this book. More to come!

[doomspaniels]

There's a scent!

*sniffa sniffa sniffs*

Over there!

[tunastime]

hi i’m here to make you worse, can i get uhhh “it’s fine. you’re here now.” + hiccuping tears into their shoulder with Kalesa and Julian? extra points if Julian is the one crying :]

"It's fine. You're here now." (1076 words) (x)

It's late when the rhythmic sound of whetstone and blade drifts up from the back garden and through the open window of the study. The sound is sharp, distinctly metallic as it should be, underlain by something smooth and careful in the way the metal grates against fine-toothed, dampened stone. Kalesa knows the hands that guide it almost as well as her own—she could certainly tell by the sound that they worked with a precision she'd only now begun to practice with her own blade. The noise is a comfort, even with its oddly steel-tasting sound. It reminded her of fires, and smoke, and laughter. And, even now, with the slight smell of oak wood smoke, it fills her with that comfort, all the way up until the sound of stone clattering against metal breaks through.

Kalesa stands all at once, journal left open and forgotten as she leans out of the open window and casts a wide glance to the firepit, glowing warm red in the early evening light. A cold breeze floats up and through the twisting curtains. Julian, sat quietly, staring into the blade carefully balanced on his knees, clutches his hand to his chest.

Kalesa swallows. Something cold rushes up to meet her, clamoring up her throat even as she tries to steel her resolve and back away without any noise. It takes a moment of pressing her nails to her palm to bring her energy center, and, even then, she falters. They'd both long since cast the cloak of adventuring from their shoulders and yet, whatever he found before she really knew him, whatever lurked behind her husbands eyes when they seemed just a touch too far away to properly read, seemed to linger. Seemed to fester. Not an anxious state. Not a paranoia. A rot that wasn't his. Something only magic could touch.

Kalesa rounds the stairs and steps into the evening greeted only for a moment by the sound of the lake on the shore and fireflies. She moves carefully, shoulders and elbows tense with worry as she rounds the side of the house, careful not to let the anxiety show in the shake of her breath or the sound of her voice.

"Jules," she says, soft and comforting, like talking to a spooked animal. Her hand comes out, right hand, ring heavy on her left, palm out. She steps to him, not slow, but deliberate. Julian's eyes don't leave the blade. Not until Kalesa removes the weighty weapon from his knees, the wrap and hilt warm in her hand from where it used to soak up his, and the fire's, heat. The blade seems to hum ever so in her grip. She isn't afraid, though—not of the blade. Not of Julian. Not even of the weapon in his hands. As Kalesa sets the blade in the grass, Julian's eyes snap up. He gags on a breath as he startles.

"Kal."

"Hi, JJ," Kalesa starts. She smiles weakly as Julian's dark eyes rove her face for some beat of recognition. There's a moment of held breath and silence before Julian's forehead collides dully with her right shoulder with enough force to briefly wind her. She wobbles on her heels, sinks to her knees as Julian crumples into her.

"Oh," she startles, holding fast to the back of his neck, turning her face into it, kissing the clammy skin. His pulse races. He tastes like sweat. "It's okay. It's okay. Jules..."

Julian shakes his head, pressing firmer against her shoulder as he does, curled still around his hand. Kalesa drags her hand down his neck, pushing into thick, corded muscle, trying to force anything to give. She feels him shudder, hiccup, sink into the touch.

"What happened? Where did you go?" she asks, quiet against the soft skin of his throat.

"I don't know," he hiccups, voice wobbling with tears. Her platitudes begin with the space between his shoulderblades, running her hand as far as she can reach down the center of his spine to ground him. Julian's crying is a quiet, sniffling thing. She feels Julian wheeze as he coughs out a breath, as he pulls another tight in through his teeth. Her tail curls around his ankle.

"You don't need to," she murmurs, trying to unclench her jaw, eyes screwed shut. It's been a long time since Julian fell into the half state of clarity, of seeing visions that weren't his, feeling the inky black of the hand he thought was his god reach through him. It had been many, many years since he'd been that weapon. And still, he held himself as if he were the knife's edge, the sword's blade, the downswing of an axe. The same sword that killed now moved in slow motions to teach. The same weapon that crawled out of possession to find the party he loved now cradled himself in Kalesa's arms, worming his way back to warm reality.

She says, "Just be here with me," and Julian's wet sigh makes her feel like he will. Julian sighs again, deeper now, hiccup softer as he readjusts. His hands fall to his lap, and for the first time, Kalesa gets a glimpse at the angry red cut across the heel of his hand. It isn't deep or wide, a thin thing bleeding more than it should, seen mostly from the tacky blood on his wrist at the small stain on his beige tunic. Kalesa takes Julian's wrist in one hand, careful not to jostle too much. She hums once. The sound is a mix of displeasure and concern. Holding his wrist, other arm still curled over his shoulders, she tucks her face into his neck again, sighs once, and says:

"I want to clean this up," and kisses the high of his shoulder.

Julian nods, letting out a damp huff of breath.

"Me too," he says softly. Kalesa smiles against his neck.

"Let's go then," she says, and tugs Julian up with her, limbs tangling, resting and rocking up together, until they both can stand. They both leave the sword and the embers of the fire to their wishes until they return to lay them to rest, in scabbard and soil.

[suguwu]

mondstadt: terroir

“Don’t tease,” you chastise.

He tightens his grip on your ankle, his other hand tracing higher, dragging delicate over your calf. 

“Oh, darling,” he says. “I’ve barely even started.”

minors and ageless blogs dni!

pairing: pantalone x f!reader

notes: what's this? the first chapter of mr. worldwide almost a year after i released the masterlist? yeah. yeah. sorry about that. but i hope you enjoy!

tags: established relationship (married), reader is called "darling" and "wife", wine play, oral (f!receiving), reader has pubic hair.

wc: 2k

Mondstadt is as pretty as ever.

The burgeoning spring brings a verdant flush to the land, the high grasses swaying emerald in the endless wind of the nation, and the apple blossoms blooming pink on their branches, a soft spill of dawn caught in petals. New life abounds in every corner of the nation.

It’s so different from Snezhnaya.

The Dandelion Sea feels endless as you pass through it, the vast field of the treasured flowers stretching as far as the eye can see, kissing the bright blue of the mid-morning sky’s horizon. You watch a crimson fox scamper through the dandelions. Despite the Anemo energy keeping them whole in the playful breeze, a few delicate seeds catch in its coat, little white speckles like a flurry of snow.

“You seem pleased,” Pantalone says, without looking up from the ledger he’s been focusing on. 

“Do I?” you ask.

“Don’t play coy, darling,” he tells you.

He makes a note. It joins pages and pages of other notes, each a meticulous observation in a hard-earned elegant script. Each loop of his pen is a slow, familiar flourish. 

“I would never.”

He hums. “Of course not. How silly of me.”

“Yes, how silly of you.”

He glances up for a moment, one elegant brow raised. He contemplates you for an instant, a little smile on his lips, before he returns his attention to the ledger.

You pout.

“Do not give me that look,” he says, writing another note with an elegant flick of his wrist. 

“What look?”

He doesn’t look up. “The one on your pretty lips,” he says. “I do so hate to see you pout.”

“Then pay attention to me.”

“Soon, darling.”

“Now, darling.”

“Such a demanding little thing,” he says, but he’s putting down his pen, tucking it away with the ledger. You watch the way the tendons in his hands flex, how careful his long, strong fingers are. His rings catch the light, gleaming in the golden sunshine, and you think of how many times you’ve tasted the metal when he has sunk his fingers into your mouth. 

When you glance up, Pantalone’s lips have a knowing curve to them. 

You’re unperturbed; your husband knows your appetite for all things better than most. Your appetite for him most of all. 

Still, you say nothing, though an answering little smile blooms on your lips. You turn your gaze back out the window, watching the idyllic countryside roll by, the trees whispering in the breeze, the flowers dotting the grass like stars in the sky swaying. 

“I thought you wanted my attention, darling,” Pantalone says.

You sniff. “Perhaps you took too long.”

“I see,” he says, deeply fond. “A mistake I shan’t make again.”

“Good.”

He chuckles lowly, the sound rich and deep as it drips over you like honey. Before he can say anything, the carriage rounds a bend, and a manor comes into view.

“Oh!” you gasp, pleased to see it again. It’s striking no matter how many times you’ve ridden past it, a towering thing that almost seems to puncture the blue of the sky. Even from afar, you can scent the flowers of the garden, the soft sweetness carried to you by Mond’s ever-present winds. 

The carriage turns off towards the manor.

You furrow your brow; it’s the only thing down this particular road. It clicks in a second later and you turn to face your husband, who is idly looking out the window. 

“I thought you weren’t going to buy in Mond.” 

“Hmm?”

You slip your foot up Pantalone’s leg.

He glances at you, his eyes gleaming behind the half-moons of his glasses.

“You weren’t going to buy in Mond,” you remind him. 

He catches your ankle, wrapping his long, lean fingers around it. His thumb strokes idly against the bone. A tender, silken touch.

“It was too cheap to let go of,” he says.

With him, that just means somewhere under ten million mora. You decide you’re better off not knowing. 

It’s a wonderful property, the beautiful manor set into sweeping gardens lush with fragrant blossoms, the blooms spilling over in a froth of untamed color. Vines swirl up the sides of the house, whorls of greenery clinging to the sun-warmed stone, dotted with bright flowers. It rises high above the grounds, almost cradled by the sky. 

It apparently once belonged to one of the eldest clans of the fallen aristocracy—some of the stained glass still carries their crest, flooding the courtyard with their colors at the sun’s gentle touch—until it was sold off by the heir. 

When you peer at it through the carriage windows, you can’t understand how he could bear to let go of it. 

“You said you liked it,” Pantalone says as you lean back again. “Didn’t you?”

You should have known better. Of course he bought an entire manor because you’d mentioned in passing that it was pretty. 

“Or have you changed your mind?” he asks, his lips curling into something smug when you stare at him. 

You know that look.

“Don’t tease,” you chastise.

He tightens his grip on your ankle, his other hand tracing higher, dragging delicate over your calf. 

“Oh, darling,” he says. “I’ve barely even started.” 

—

The two of you stumble into the first bedroom you find. 

It’s lavish but not gaudy, the type of finery you’ve become used to over the long years with your husband, who insists on nothing but the best, particularly for you. It’s beautifully set up, with a wine and fruit basket on the nightstand, but you barely spare a thought for it, too busy trying to shrug out of your dress while batting away your husband’s roaming hands. 

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be,” you tell him as he palms your tit over your dress, his big hand holding the thin fabric in place. 

“If you weren’t so pretty, it wouldn’t be so hard to keep my hands off you.”

Your cheeks heat. “Shut up,” you say, swatting at his wrist. 

He lets go with a laugh that drips with desire, warm and full of teeth. Your dress slips to the floor, a silken pool; he helps you step out of it. 

He kisses you then, a hot, heavy press of his lips against yours, his tongue flitting across the seam of your lips until you open for him. He presses close as he licks into your mouth, one hand splayed across your back to hold you still for him. His other hand slides from your hip to cup your tit. He thumbs your nipple, a soft hint of pressure against the pebbling nub, and you gasp into his mouth. 

You can feel him hardening against your hip even through the fine material of his pants. 

He kisses you dizzy, steals your breath and makes it his own, and perhaps that is why you’re not sure how you find yourself on the bed. It’s downy soft beneath you, the sheets silken against your skin, and he pins you against them with ease. 

You arch into his next kiss, whining your complaint as he pulls away for breath. 

“Darling,” he says, annoyingly composed, “I want to drink from you.”

“Yes,” you say quickly, reaching for him to pull him back down to you, bracketing your thighs around his hips to feel the line of his hard cock against your cunt. You roll your hips and close your eyes, arching your back to feel more of him. “Hurry up.”

You yelp as liquid spills over you, eyes opening to see your husband set aside the bottle of wine that he’s just poured part of onto your chest. You catch a flash of the label and any admonishment you might have had fades away.

“Pantalone,” you say slowly, “that was one of the rarest vintages Dawn Winery has.”

The wine is pooling in the dip of your neck, a maroon bruise of liquid. It drips down your tits in languid rivulets. 

“Is it? Good.”

Before you can complain, he dips down to you, tracing the tip of his tongue over your skin, chasing a droplet of wine. He follows the meandering path, his tongue laving gently against you, a sharp line of heat that goes straight to your cunt. 

You bite down on a gasp as he flicks his tongue against the furled peak of your nipple, sparks skittering beneath your skin, before all you know is wet heat. You weave your hands into his ebony hair as he suckles at you, arching up into him as he palms at your other tit, pinching lightly at your nipple with clever fingers. 

You’re squirming beneath him by the time he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your breast. Some of the wine between your tits trickles down your sides to stain the sheets claret. 

“You’re wasting it,” he chides. You glare and he laughs before swooping down to follow the path of a droplet to where wine pools in your navel. He licks it up, drawing a long, hot line of his tongue from the dip of it to the start of the curls on your mound.

Pantalone curls his hands around your thighs, his fingers sinking into the meat of them, and spreads you wide for him. He lets go of one of your thighs to circle his thumb over your clit, smiling when your hips buck as an incandescent heat settles in your cunt, a bright burn of pleasure. 

“I thought you were going to drink from me,” you say. “So drink.”

His smile grows wider. “Of course, wife,” he says, and then he’s dipping down to lick a long stripe against your cunt, flattening his tongue against the heat of it. He hums and holds your hips down when you cry out. He laves at you, dragging his tongue through your folds until you’re almost trembling with it. 

He laps at your slick, tracing the tip of his tongue around your hole. You sink your hands into his hair and tug at the long locks, urging him to press closer. You can feel the way he smiles against your tender cunt before he obliges you, delving his tongue into you. He presses forward to push deeper and your legs close around his head as his nose nudges into your clit. 

White hot pleasure sears through you, sparking down your spine like a shooting star. Pantalone slips his hands under your ass to raise your hips higher against him, his tongue pushing deeper into your wet cunt. You gasp as he flicks his tongue inside of you. 

He feasts on you like a glutton, humming his content as you writhe, his strong hands holding you still for him, keeping your cunt pressed against his mouth. You tighten your grasp in his hair as you are wound tighter and tighter, the heat pooling in your stomach catching like kindling and spreading through you.

Your voice breaks on his name—his real name, one that is yours and yours alone—as the heat roars into a forest fire, setting your nerves aflame as you cum.

Pantalone presses little kisses to your cunt as you shudder your way through the aftershocks, tiny blissful jolts of lingering pleasure. When your thighs go lax around him, he pulls back. His smile is soft, but there’s smugness lining it. You scowl at him.

“Darling,” he says, wiping his gleaming mouth with the back of his hand, the uncouth gesture sending a frisson of heat lacing down your spine, “we really must finish the bottle.”

He leans up to press a sweet kiss against your lips; it turns wicked quickly, a heated claim. When he pulls away, his eyes are shining greedily. His smile has a wicked edge to it as he reaches for the wine bottle once more.

“I insist.” 

[the-lonelybarricade]

The Asking Price - Azris Oneshot

“What’s the asking price,” I repeated. “The same thing I told Azriel when I found him snooping through my father’s woods yesterday.” - Acowar, Chapter 26 (Thank you @ofduskanddreams for pointing me to it!)

Summary: Azriel gets caught snooping through the Autumn Court woods

CW: Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, Restraints, Degredation, Wing play, rough oral sex

Read on AO3

-

In the last five centuries, Azriel had been to the Autumn Woods many times.

He knew the bends of the branches and each of the twisted roots well enough to glean familiarity out of the large tree beside him, seemingly identical to the ones that spread every direction for miles. Azriel had visited the Autumn Court for a variety of occasions, typically to keep an eye on the Vanserras and their ever shifting favors.

Yet it was never the memories of those trips that returned to him whenever he stepped foot on Autumn soil. Somehow, he always returned the same fledgling he was all those centuries ago, searching for the female he loved who had been left bleeding in the dirt. The taste of the crisp wind would always be laced with her pain, the changing leaves always colored with his rage. But it was the fear, most of all, that left him feeling unsteady. Even knowing what he knew now, that Mor was safe and had grown into a fearless warrior that was undefined by her past, Azriel could never seem to shake the panic thundering through his chest whenever he returned to Autumn.

“Shadowsinger.”

And there he was, lounging across a broad branch overhead, one arm tucked carelessly beneath his copped hair while the other drifted aimlessly towards the earth, stroking the breeze like it were his personal pet.

Azriel clenched his jaw. He didn’t know how Eris had discovered he was here—Rhysand wouldn’t have alerted him, not without telling Azriel first.

“Did you know,” Eris drawled, amber eyes tracking a leaf as it fluttered down from the canopy above, tumbling into his waiting palm, “that my hounds can sniff out any prey as far as the borders of these woods? After our last meeting—” the one where Cassian had put a sword through his gut— “I had them trained to detect Illyrian dogs. I had a feeling you’d be coming.”

Remember why you’re here, he told himself, fighting the snarl that threatened to curl over his lips.

“You want to know if I’ve told my father that your High Lady has taken a kernel of his magic.” Eris turned his head, studying Azriel in a way that drew out the rest of the snarl, regardless of Azriel’s best restraint. He hated how Eris could look at someone as if he were stripping them bare. When the Autumn Lord’s eyes dropped to Truth-Teller strapped at Azriel’s hip, he grinned. “And I suppose you brought that, in case I hadn’t. Intended to torture the memory out me?”

“You love to hear yourself speak,” Azriel said, reaching for the hilt of Truth-Teller instinctively.

A coil of flame curled around his wrist to stop him. Azriel’s siphon blared, prepared to cut through that flame, to meet the Autumn’s heir’s magic with equal might and power. Eris was not stronger than him, even here—

The shadows stirred, coiling around Azriel’s shoulder with urgency, but they were not fast enough. Azriel roared at the sharp pain that spiked through his thigh. The magic in his siphons fizzled to dust—poison. Faebane, perhaps, like Hybern favored in their weapons. Or something worse, a deadly concoction of Autumn’s own making. Azriel turned to track the archer that must have winnowed in, to have evaded his shadow’s notice, but flame pressed into his jaw. Not hot enough to burn, but enough to turn Azriel’s face back to Eris.

“None of that,” he crooned. “You and I have much to discuss.”

Fire spread over Azriel’s body, restraining his arms and legs so he could do nothing but watch as the Autumn lord sat up from the branch, jumping gracefully to his feet. A jungle cat advancing on its prey.

Then that flame against his jaw was replaced with Eris’s hand, the cool cut of his rings pressing uncomfortably into Azriel’s skin. He bared his teeth beneath the Lord’s unimpressed assessment.

“In private,” Eris added.

Azriel felt the fingers around his face tighten as they were enveloped in smoke. The air shifted first, replacing the chill damp of the forest with a pleasant, dry heat. Then he was deposited to his knees, none-too-gently, atop the wooden floorboards of what looked to be a sitting room.

“Welcome to my home, Shadowsinger,” Eris said. He offered a cruel smile. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Immediately, Azriel’s shadows swarmed and fled, taking this rare opportunity to explore the personal home of Eris Vanserra. The Autumn heir snorted, shaking his head so that a small strand of red hair flopped over his forehead. Azriel knew the shadows would find nothing of value—Eris had intended to take Azriel here, and there’s nothing he would have left for the Shadowsinger to discover that he didn’t want known.

“What do you want, Eris?”

Azriel kept his voice flat, refusing to betray a single emotion that might satisfy Eris. He hadn’t brought Azriel to the High Lord, which meant there was some angle he was working. Something ultimately self-serving, as all things were involving Eris.

“To talk,” Eris said, reaching for the hilt of Truth-Teller.

Azriel was still restrained by the male’s magic, could do nothing but growl, “Put that down.”

“Or you’ll what?” He asked, utterly unfazed by the warning in Azriel’s voice. The fire twisting around Azriel’s arms and legs constricted, holding him taut as Eris leaned closer, dancing the blade of the dagger across Azriel’s cheek. “Will you tell on me to Rhysand? Have him punish me for hurting his poor little Shadowsinger.”

He thrashed against his restraints, but stopped the minute he noticed the amused glint in Eris’s eyes. He wanted to see Azriel struggle, to witness the famed spymaster rage beneath his control. Azriel clenched his teeth, willing his body to still.

“Is that what you want to talk about, then?” Azriel asked coldly. “Rhysand?”

Eris stared down at Azriel knelt before him. His hand was still poised staunchly against Azriel’s chin, and his thumb swept over his cheek just the slightest bit, as though in consideration of the question.

“I want you to convince your High Lord to bargain with me,” Eris said finally.

“Ask him yourself.”

He spat the words, and Eris yanked him forward in response.

“Oh,” Eris whispered, his voice as sharp as the blade he trailed down Azriel’s throat. “I was intending to. But now that you’re here, it will be so much more entertaining to do it this way.”

Azriel’s pulse jumped. Not at Truth-Teller pressing into his skin, but at the gleam in Eris’s eyes.

“I heard a rumor once, about Illyrian males.” The blade traveled adjacent across his throat, threatening to break the delicate skin that he would not be able to heal. The arrow wound in his thigh pulsed, a dull ache that clashed with the strange exhilaration of danger, of anticipation. Of not knowing what torture Eris would be inflicting, despite torture being the language Azriel spoke more fluently than his mother’s native tongue.

The blade dragged backwards, over Azriel’s shoulder and the ridges of his spine.

“I heard that your wings are particularly sensitive.” Eris cocked his head, fire burning in his gaze as Truth-Teller’s razored edge danced along the base of Azriel’s wing. Teasing, taunting. Every muscle was begging Azriel to writhe against the flames containing him, to do everything he could to break free. He swallowed, unwilling to betray his anxiety at having his wings be touched—tortured.

“Shall we see if the rumors hold true?” Eris purred. Coaxing, but too chilled to belong to a lover.

Azriel shut his eyes. He had spoken to too many others with that same voice.

Cold metal dug harder into his cheeks where Eris’s hand still gripped him. Azriel resisted the urge to flinch as Eris said, “Look at me.”

A coward would keep his eyes shut. Azriel’s pride was the only thing he could still control, so he opened his eyes and met Eris’s cold stare. If he was looking for fear, for pain, they would be eclipsed by the rage and loathing simmering in Azriel’s gut.

Maybe Eris enjoyed the loathing just as much, because he smiled. “Good dog.”

The dagger teasing the base of his wing pressed forward, following the upward curve to trace his wing’s edge. Azriel’s hands turned to fists in the fiery restraints. Eris wasn’t pressing hard enough to cause any pain and instead… The shadowsinger huffed, struggling to control his breathing as the strangest, most reluctant sense of pleasure cascaded down his spine. Eris likely had no idea that a male’s wing was sensitive in this way. He thought he was teasing him with the threat of pain, but—

Azriel bit down on his lip to smother a groan. His cock was already twitching with interest, simply reacting to the way he was being unknowingly stimulated. It was natural, he told himself, trying to ignore the rising shame as he called his shadows back to disguise the scent of his arousal. Eris didn’t need to know what he was doing. No one ever needed to know.

“Would you like it harder?” Eris asked, no hint in his voice that he was aware of what he was truly inflicting on the Shadowsinger.

“Fuck you,” Azriel panted.

“Would you like to? You are already on your knees, afterall.”

No, Azriel swore, even as his cock continued hardening. Eris moved the blade downwards, over a particularly sensitive spot that made his wing twitch. A strangled noise rose in the back of Azriel’s throat as he thrashed blindly forward, desperate to escape the glorious edge of that knife. To free himself of the building need in his gut. This was so much worse than torture.

Eris noticed, of course. “Sensitive here, hmm?” He pressed the tip harder, causing Azriel to bark out a groan as his pleasure mixed with pain. “Look at you, the famed Shadowsinger, squirming on my floor and I haven’t even drawn blood.”

He continued ribboning the blade across that same spot, over and over, thinking he was causing pain each time Azriel gnashed his teeth and jerked his hips into cruel, empty air.

“Do you want me to stop?” The knife scraped closer to a spot that Azriel knew well. One that past lovers had discovered, where a few kitten licks were enough to push him to completion. He nearly felt like screaming to imagine how the hard metal would feel against it, cold and merciless.

“I’ll kill you,” Azriel swore, tasting blood as he choked on his own desire. It crawled along his chest, up his throat, and to his cheeks. Would Eris be able to see it, would he know that Azriel wasn’t flushing in anger?

“Says the male on his knees,” Eris hummed.

The serrated edges continued dragging against the gossamer of his wing, and Azriel hissed, spitting a string of curses in his mind as Eris arrived at that infernal spot and pushed, very nearly breaking this skin.

Fire enveloped him, shooting beneath Azriel’s skin in a molten tremor that seized his entire body, tightening every muscle. Eris must have seen the way he tensed, the way his wings tucked in as he came, cock shuddering as it erupted in his trousers. Azriel was panting, holding himself so still as he stared at Eris and Eris stared back. Gaping.

Then his eyes flickered downwards, to the wet leathers now sticking to Azriel’s crotch. The knife was still pressed to his wing, and Azriel was still achingly hard as the aftershocks continued throbbing through his cock.

Then, slowly, Eris’s shock was replaced with sinister delight. “How generous of me.” Truth-Teller began moving again, more deliberate now that Eris was aware of its effect. “Have you been enjoying yourself, Shadowsinger? Rutting against my floor like an animal?”

“Eris,” Azriel gasped, alarmed that the male would continue now that he knew he was pleasuring his captive. The air knocked from his lungs as Eris dropped the knife and began using his fingers instead. So much softer—so much warmer.

A moan warbled in the back of Azriel’s throat. There was nothing to contain it besides his own teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and even that wasn’t sufficient in barricading the noise.

“Cauldron, are you going to come again? Like a pathetic bitch in heat?”

Azriel struggled in the restraints. There was no use disguising his urgency to escape, now that Eris was aware of what he was doing. Now that he wanted to continue, was forcing more of that devastating pleasure to build with his delicious, clever fingers.

“Let me go.”

It did not sound as threatening as Azriel had hoped. Eris laughed, scraping his nails and those Cauldron-forsaken rings against the most delicate part of Azriel’s body. He keened, shifting his knees like he might try to crawl away, well aware there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

“Will you convince your High Lord to bargain with me?” Eris pressed.

“Get fucked.”

Another laugh. “That’s you, Azriel.”

Azriel’s chest was heaving, hips bucking just as pathetically as Eris had accused. The male continued his assault on Azriel’s wings, intent on forcing another moan. There was nothing Azriel could do to stop the onslaught of bright, blistering pleasure. He cried out as that burning shot to his aching cock, spilling more warm, sticky spend into his trousers. It was humiliating, especially as Eris watched it all with a smile.

“Shall we do it again, Shadowsinger?”

Eris’s fingers were already moving. Azriel, who had never before broken under torture, whimpered. The male above him groaned, and Azriel realized belatedly that he was not the only one with a hardened cock.

Fingers fisted roughly in his hair. Eris must have noticed the Shadowsinger’s attention drift to the erection in front of his face, because he drew Azriel closer. Until his lips nearly brushed the stretched fabric. “Or would you prefer to suck?”

Azriel didn’t think his pride could survive orgasming beneath Eris’s touch a third time. At least if he sucked cock, he would be the one with some measure of control. Inflicting pleasure, instead of taking it.

Rather than speak, which would only add to his disgrace, Azriel simply opened his mouth. Eris needed no further prompting. He released Azriel’s wing to unlace his trousers, at which the Illyrian slumped forward in abject relief.

Until Eris stepped out of his trousers and revealed the large, flushed cock presented before him. The tip was already beaded with arousal, glinting beneath the afternoon sun that filtered in through the windows.

Eris fisted himself, taking a few slow pumps as Azriel watched, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. There was something undeniably fascinating about it. Seeing Eris naked, almost vulnerable. Though no one would think it by the darkness stirring in his eyes.

“Now open that filthy mouth,” Eris said, stepping closer. His hands slid into Azriel’s hair again. “Show me how a good Illyrian dog obeys its master.”

Loathing churned deep and low inside Azriel, utterly in contrast to the arousal clashing against it. Impossibly, Azriel opened his mouth, allowing Eris to push the head of his cock against Azriel’s tongue. His taste was salty, masculine, but otherwise not unpleasant.

Eris allowed him only that moment to savor the taste, before his fingers wound into Azriel’s hair, tugging his head forward at the same time Eris thrust his hips. Azriel choked at the unexpected intrusion, not anticipating that he would be taking so much of the male so fast.

“What’s that?” Eris asked at Azriel’s garbled protests. “Don’t sputter like that, Azriel. I expected Rhysand to have you better trained.”

It wasn’t as though it was the first time he’d sucked cock, but it had been a while since Azriel had gotten on his knees before another male. There was no shred of the control Azriel had been hoping to seize, and yet… there was almost something relieving about that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to surrender so fully to another being.

“Good boy,” Eris grunted when Azriel forced his throat to relax. The backs of his eyes burned, but Azriel opened them wide, refusing to let Eris see him so undone. The Autumn male’s pace was punishing, fucking into Azriel’s mouth until he stopped struggling. “Such a good fucktoy,” Eris crooned as his reward. “I can see why they keep you around.”

Eris pulled harder on Azriel’s hair, until the Shadowsinger felt his nose brush the coarse red hair at the base of Eris’s pelvis. Eris groaned, holding Azriel there for several punishing seconds as the male’s cock twitched. Azriel heard a soft, almost surrendered sigh in the shape of his name, which was quickly overwhelmed by the bitter taste of arousal flooding Azriel’s mouth. Warm liquid trickled down his throat, and Azriel found himself swallowing when he knew he should be spitting it back at Eris’s face.

He was kept there, in Eris’s tight grip with his lips pressed to the base of his cock, even as Eris began to soften.

Meeting his eyes, Eris raised his freehand, tapping it to his own temple. “Now I have two memories and two High Lords you would prefer to remain ignorant. Convince Rhysand to help me take the throne, or I’ll let him see how enthusiastically his Spymaster sucks Autumn cock.”

Finally, he released Azriel, allowing the shadowsinger to pull his mouth free.

Azriel coughed, re-adjusting to the sensation of breathing unobstructed. His voice was raspy as he spat, “Go to Hell, Eris.”

The male merely shrugged, gesturing to the Autumn wood just outside the window. “I’m already there.”

[electronicwitchcollection]

For those that prefer to read on here, here’s the continuation of my Grimmjow smut, Accidental mate. I’ve planned out around ten chapters, not all will be smut, but some will! It’s Grimmjow after all 😂

Morning sunlight filtered though the rotten slats, held together by sheer willpower at this point, of the shack you had sought shelter in from the storm in the night before. The harsh light burned through the closed eyes of Grimmjow, awakening him rudely from the most refreshing sleep he had had in recent memory. Grumbling under his breath he screwed his eyes shut tighter, defiantly unwilling to let the sun dictate when he should wake.

Despite his efforts, sleep evaded him, senses rushing an onslaught of smells and sensations into his consciousness. His own scent was overpowering, lingering on the soft flesh he had caged in his arms. Cracking his eyes open he was met with his own teeth marks, angrily prominent on the back of your neck. The night rushed back to him with nauseating speed.

The taste of your blood as he sunk his teeth into your pathetically weak skin. You moaning like a bitch in heat as he fucked into your vice like cunt. The pride he felt having a willing bitch to rut into. He felt strong and in control, the undercurrent of his rutting desire was subdued, finally sated enough to not feel like clawing his own skin off.

You moaned in your sleep, nuzzling deeper into the pillow under your head. Grimmjow snatched his arm away from you as though you had caught fire, glaring into the back of your head. His cock had come free during the night, knot deflated. No longer attached to you, Grimmjow crawled from your nest in search of his clothes.

Locating them easily, his eyes kept darting to you as he covered up. The nest was pitiful, worn and dirtied by other men. Grimmjow sneered at the thought, turning to leave the hut to hunt. Humans were disgusting. The state of the nest niggled in the back of his mind, rooting deeply, stopping Grimmjow when he reached the door, pulling his eyes back to it. A growl rumbled in his chest, teeth flashing in a sneer, annoyed with how the nest looked, annoyed that he was bothered by it.

Grimmjow quietly stalked around the room, feet of a hunter not disturbing the smallest of stones scattered around. Grimmjow gathered up the discarded clothing that held your scent, along with the pillow left on the floor where he originally stayed. Meticulously he placed them around your sleeping form, building a barrier around you. It wasn't enough, the alpha sneered. Adding your backpack and some rags he found in a chest near the window, Grimmjow debated going outside do find some greenery to pad up the nest when you rolled to your back in your sleep.

Grimmjow stood above you, taking in your appearance. You looked like shit. Your fur was tangled and knotty, fanned out around you. Dangerous. It would be easy to grab onto in a fight, easy to yank it back and expose your throat, ripe for slitting. Your face was clammy and flushed. You looked sickly. Grimmjow knelt besides the nest, leaning in to sniff at your exposed neck

Grimmjow's own scent was heavy around you, dominating your own salty sweet smell. You didn't smell like infection, which was a relief. Only because he didn't know the way to where the shinigami live. He didn't care if you were sick. His keen eyes spotted two more of his marks on your skin, purpling on your otherwise milky complexion. The one marking your tit was particularly drawing his eye.

With a disgusted huff, Grimmjow determinedly stalked out of the cabin, letting the door swing shut behind him. He took a lung full of the crisp air brought on after a storm, clearing his senses from your lingering scent. He could taste the damp moss and earthy soil in the air, hear the ruffling of feathers and swaying of creaking overhead branches. He felt a tingle in the air to the right, head snapping in that direction. He caught the subtle aroma of a hollow caught in the breeze. Bearing his fangs, Grimmjow gave chase, following the scent easily.

————————————————

You woke up slowly, body heavy with tiredness, your aching muscles protested as you started to stretch out your tense limbs. A sharp burst of pain between your legs had you gasping. Hissing around clenched teeth you held still, taking stock of your body. You felt weak, limbs sluggish and heavy. Muscles felt tense and tight. Your throat was painfully dry, you tried to swallow and was rewarded with a dry scratchy feel. Your neck throbbed, a pulsating heat reminding you of the vicious bites you endured from that animal.

What had you gasping however, was the pain radiating between your legs. It felt bruised, swollen and uncomfortable. You couldn't remember ever feeling this drained the morning after the night before. Moving slowly, you attempted to sit up, wincing at the shooting burn travelling through you. Head hung down, you closed your eyes waiting for the ache to ebb away.

Feeling as though this was as much relief as you would get, you opened your eyes, only to cock your head confused. What the hell? Littered around you on the bed were your ruined clothing and back pack. Curiously you picked up a rag, inspecting it. It wasn't yours. Grimmjow must have found it. Why he had arranged them around you in the bed though was a mystery.

Grimmjow.

You looked around the small cabin, easily concluding he wasn't there. The fire had long since snuffed out, not helpful in any way to indicate when Grimmjow may have left. Sighing you pinched the bridge of your nose. It could be hours before he returned, if ever. You wouldn't put it past him to make his own way back to soul society without telling you. You may as well get up and ready to leave in case he did come back.

Gingerly you manoeuvred your legs over the side of the bed, lowly groaning through your discomfort. Twisting to grab your bag, you rummaged through it, looking for your shinigami uniform, silently rejoicing in the Knowledge that it would be hung loose on your aching body. You pulled on as much of the uniform you could while sitting, dreading when you'd eventually have to stand

Deciding not to dwell on it, you shakily rose to your feet, grimacing at the pain. Uniform fitted securely, you take small tentative steps towards the cabin door in search of your unhinged companion. A painful throb jolted through you at every step, fatigue making itself known in your abused body. You were panting when you reached the door, sweating from the effort it took. You had not considered feeling this pitiful when you had agreed to help Grimmjow out last night. While it was an experience, you we're thankful it was a one time deal

Outside held no more clues as to where Grimmjow was than inside the cabin did. The worn in path on the Forrest floor seemed like a logical direction to follow. Forcing yourself onwards, you shuffle slowly, scanning the lush green area for a hint of blue

"Grimmjow!" You call out into the quiet, pausing to await a reply. When none came you shuffled further along the path. The sun felt nice on your skin, the black of your clothing sucked up the heat, resting it on your sore muscles. You call out again, letting a surprised yelp when your foot caught in as tree breach, the grassy flooring racing up to meet you

"Grimm-ahh!"

A muscle riddled arm darted out to catch you as you fell, saving you from a heavy impact with the ground. You look up to your would be saviour, about to give thanks when he growled at you

"watch where your fucking going"

You quickly concluded two things. The first being that sex did nothing to improve the Espadas bed side manor, the second is how little his rutting season effected his personality, because even after having sex, he was still an asshole. You were too tired and achy to engage in an argument though.

You leaned heavily on his arm to straighten yourself up. Once you let him go, Grimmjow removed his arm as though you burned him.

"where did you go?" You ask, stalling for time to catch your breath. Grimmjow folded his arms over his chest, glaring out into the trees over your shoulder

"hunting" 

Reasonable, you yourself were famished after last night's activities. You were pretty sure you had some more preservatives hidden in the bottom of your bag. They'll suffice until you made it back home. There was still a long days journey ahead, the inn you were originally planning to spend the night was about three hours away, soul society another four beyond that. While normally you could use flash step to take you a good portion, your lack of energy and the throbbing pain wouldn't get you far, only succeeding in draining you further, prolonging your walk.

Seven hours walking with a grumpy Grimmjow. What did you do to deserve this? If you wanted to make it back before nightfall, you had better leave in the next hour. You made to head back to the shack, talking to Grimmjow over your shoulder "we've got a long walk ahead of us, we should start getting ready to leave" You could feel his presence behind you, the only thing letting you know he was following you. His footsteps were eerily silent, walking over the same rubbled path as you were, yet even when straining you couldn't hear the slightest disturbance under his feet. He truly was frightening.

A slightly bigger stride than you should have attempted made you stop suddenly, gasping loudly at the ripping pain jolting up you. In an instant Grimmjow was in front of you, hovering closely.

"you hurt?" He asked you, leaning in to sniff around your neck. "What happened?"

"Im fine Grimmjow," you grunt through clenched teeth. You were throbbing between your legs, sharp prickling pain felt hot inside you. "I'm just sore" You watched as Grimmjow sniffed around you, fascinated by the strange response to your pain. "We really need to... HEY!"

Grimmjow had fallen to his knees mid sentence, sticking his face into your clothed privates and inhaling deeply. The harsh smack across his face you delivered in a knee jerk response rebounded through the trees, echoing deafeningly. The loud animalistic roar he offered in return silenced the sounds of the Forrest, woodland animals ceasing all chatter at the predatory warning.

"what the hell are you doing!?" You demanded outraged, shuffling back a few paces. Grimmjow sprang to his feet, advancing angrily. You could see a vein protruding down the side of his neck, throbbing with hostility

"smack me again woman, and I'll rip off your goddamn arm!"

"you're angry at me?! What the hell are you doing sticking your head between my legs!" You shoved him back a few steps, own anger flaring. You were absolutely flabbergasted at the way he twisted the situation, damn neanderthal.

"checking for infection! The fuck do you think I was doing?!" He snarled back at you, fists clenched at his side, shaking with the desire to reach out and hit you. That would be the last time he would be helping you. In fact, he hoped you did get an infection. Let your cunt fall off for all he cared.

"You.. you can do that?" Surprise calmed your tone, genuinely interested in the unheard of talent. He was a hollow, panther hollow at that. If you took the time to think about it, he had already displayed a few animalistic traits. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility for him to be able to sniff out an infection. A little warning next time would've been nice though.

"Ya can't?" Grimmjow also appeared to be genuinely curious, rage falling off his face as quick as it had appeared. "How you shinigami are still alive is fucking beyond me." Well. That was a short lived reprieve of his anger. "Fucking weak, all of ya" 

If he could get a handle on his explosive temper, he would make a great asset to the fourth. He would save loads of time sniffing out an infection instead of waiting for labs to run tests. The idea almost made you chuckle. This brute had zero bedside manners. He would scare off more injured than he helped. Though, if anyone could tame the wild beast, you'd bet good money on Captain Unohana. The woman was terrifying. Most, if not all of the other captains blood ran cold when she gave them that scarily gentle smile. Grimmjow didn't stand a chance.

"So, did you smell any infection?" You asked as he turned his back on you, heading towards the shack. It wasn't the most ideal diagnosis, but out here in the middle of nowhere, you'd rather that than nothing. Grimmjow raised his arms, crossing them behind his head languidly

"Nah," that was a relief. You hadn't packed anything for that. A hot soak was all you needed, and that could wait until you arrived home "ya just reek of my seed"

Your steps falter at the new information, staring at the back of his head at his brazen remark, spoken as easily as though he had mentioned the weather. The man literally had no filter.

"Charming" you utter, hurrying to catch up with him. That bath couldn't come quick enough.

—————————————

Grimmjow trailed behind you in the aggravatingly slow pace you had set, steadily getting more irritated at the slow ass walk you were blindly leading him on. The trees that littered the dusty path looked the exact same as the hundreds of trees you had already passed in the last three fucking hours. He was bored, his body vibrated with pent up energy, straining his muscles uncomfortably. He needed to run, to fight. Not be led around by this fragile woman on some sight seeing walk.

Maybe that spiky headed Captain would be up for a fight when he got back? Him or that annoying furless guy that always hung around him. Ikku or something. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, there were too many shinigami, the place was infested with them. He couldn't remember any of their damn names either, not that he cared to. Weak sounding names the lot of them. Like that drunk commander guy, he had a fruity name , Sue something. Was told it had ment spring water, not that he had asked.

"How much fucking longer woman" Grimmjow growled at your back, the snarky way he addressed you had your teeth itching. The sun was still high in the sky, you estimated you had only been travelling for about two hours, though you hadn't covered as much ground as you would've liked.

"About fifteen minutes less than the last time you asked, Grimmjow" the sarcastic retort maybe not your finest moment, but you were tired and aching, and the Espada was getting on your last nerves with his moronic complaining. You recognised your surroundings now at least, you knew the inn you were originally planning to stay at was about half an hour away. From there it was a pretty much straight shot to the West White Road Gate entrance to Seireitei, just out side of the elevenths division territory.

Grimmjow huffed at your response, eyes unknowingly dropping to your ass. He was momentarily mesmerised by the way your ass bounced, transfixed on the hypnotic sway of your hips with every step you took. A strong gust of wind picked up, snapping Grimmjow out of his staring as your scent washed over him. He instinctively rumbled at the smell, mouth rushing with saliva. The instinctive reaction made him stiffen, sending him into a fit of rage

"HOW MUCH FUCKING LONGER?!"

He needed to get away from you. It was a mistake, using your body during his rutting season. He could feel your warmth in the air, your taste on his tongue. It was making him weak, pathetic. Damn body betraying him, overtaken with his rutting instincts. That fucking mark on the back of your neck a flashing beacon, drawing him back in.

You stop and turn, startled by his outburst. He wasn't the friendliest of fellows, but that was a little excessive even for him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" You ask rhetorically but with a soft tone, confused by his sudden aggressiveness. He looked murderous, fists clenching at his sides, teeth grinding together behind his clenched jaw "the inn is about half an hour away, when we reach there, I'll direct you which way to go. You can head back by yourself if you want to get back quicker, okay? " 

He begrudgingly met your eye, breathing heavily through his nose. He tilted his chin up, unspoken command to get moving. He waited until you were a safe distance away before following. Your smell no longer clouding his reasoning, your words started to register. You wanted him to go back without you? An unusual amount of concern flooded him at the idea of you walking back alone, unprotected.

Grimmjow sneered at the intrusive thought. Damn rutting season messing with his instincts, what did he care if you were unprotected. The alpha in him growled, He couldn't let you be harmed. Mine. Catching himself staring at your ass again, Grimmjow rubbed a large hand down his face, what the hell was wrong with him? He felt like he was going insane.

"Alright Grimmjow". You turned to face him. Thankfully the last stretch of your journey went smoothly, as smoothly as it could go being in the company of that unpredictable heathen. The inn was just to your right, a quaint little building surrounded by trees, flowers decorated the dusty path leading up to the door. Much more pleasing to the eye than the shack you had stayed in the pervious night, the walls actually seemed sturdy on this building. "the gate near the eleventh is that way". You directed his eye line with your hand, "it's a straight shot from here, don't deviate from the path and you'll get there in a couple hours" 

Grimmjow had his arms crossed over his wide chest, pointedly making show of refusing to look you in eye. He was, at least, following the direction you were pointing in. He had good instincts, you were confident he would make it back easily. You would follow on in the morning, hopefully feeling much better. You would report to the captain commander, your captain, and return home. You missed your bed.

"It shouldn't take you more than a few hours, especially if you use flash step for part of the way" You felt awkward now, prolonging your parting needlessly.

"Sonido"

"I'm sorry?"  You honestly hadn't expected him to say anything, least of all a word you didn't have knowledge on. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, tutting annoyed at having to explain everything to you. How stupid could one shinigami be?

"Sonido. Espada don't use that weak ass flash step"

"Right... well anyway. It shouldn't take you too long."  His eyes flashed dangerously at your flippant disregard of his explanation, baring his teeth slightly. "I'll check in with the Captain commander tomorrow, repot in about our mission" you throw a half hearted wave over your shoulder, heading up the path to the inn you were praying had availability. You were in desperate need of a hot bath, full dinner and sleep on a bed that didn't have questionable stains.

Grimmjow followed your movements with his eyes momentarily, before angrily setting off on his own powerful march down the opposite road. He stared deliberately ahead, refusing to look back. His breathing was heavy, eye brows furrowed in unexplained anger. Useless fucking woman. Glad to rid of her. He was better on his own, faster, stronger. Nothing weighing him down, that's how he preferred it. A tight clenching around his chest had him stopping in his stride, as though a thick invisible band wrapped itself around his chest and pulled him to a stop.

What if something did happen to you. Surly he would get the blame, easy to blame the arrancar. That would probably mean more of these irritating missions, having to prove himself, again. He would get an earful of that hat wearing weirdo, he was the one who pushed so hard to get Grimmjow a place here in soul society after all. With a huff he begun walking back towards the inn, tightness around his chest loosening as he spotted you, slowly beginning your walk up the few steps that lead to the door

No, what the fuck was he doing?!. Grimmjow growled, forcing himself to turn back around, start running down the path the led back to the shinigamis territory. What the fuck was wrong with him. He couldn't give two fucks if you died out here, one less shinigami polluting the area. If you got hurt, that was on you. Too damn weak to look after yourself. Survival of the fittest. Only the strongest made it. That's why Grimmjow was still around, the only Espada to have survived Aizen, the shinigami, those freaks with the arrows. Grimmjow was a king, didn't need no one.

His feet skidded across the ashy path at his abrupt halt in his run, dust billowing up in a murky cloud. He looked back again, some hidden force prickling in the back of his mind, demanding he get you in his sights. You weren't there, and his stomach felt cold and heavy. With a frustrated growl, Grimmjow screamed up to the sky, a flock of frightened birds fluttering manically out of the tree at the primal sound.

"Fucking god damn it!"

——————————————

"Welcome to the Lotus Inn!How may I help you?" A small woman greeted you from behind a large dark oak desk, smiling welcomingly at you as you neared the counter.

"Good afternoon, I apologise for the short notice, but was hoping you had availability for one night?" You ask, crossing your fingers out of sight. If they didn't, you'd have to suck it up and walk back to soul society, the next inn you knew about was too close to home to be worth staying in, this was your only hope for today

"You're in luck, we actually have one room left" You let out a relived sigh, muscles already beginning to relax at the promise of a good night sleep. The woman rummaged about the desk, looking for the correct key and paperwork "It's a small room, with a small double futon, but it has access to a decking with a private outdoors hot bath, will that be acceptable for you and your companion? "

Companion? You look behind your shoulder confused, startled to see Grimmjow looking murderous behind you, jaw tight and arms crossed tightly over his chest. You sent him an inquisitive look, head tilting to the side. Grimmjow ignored you, turning to stare at the wall defiantly, seething at his own pathetic decision to return.

"Yes, that's perfect, thank you" you turn back to the Inn worker, smiling pleasantly to make up for your rough tag along. "If you could please send the bill directly to the Captain Commander? He will be taking care of all of our expenses this evening". That was what he used to bribe you into taking this job in the first place, you hadn't yet taken advantage of it, not usually the one to accept gifts or hand outs. Another night stuck with Grimmjow, however, yeah. The captain can pay for the privilege. You might even order a bottle of sake to go with your dinner too, toast to your generous beneficiary this evening.

"Absolutely. If you would like to follow me, I'll show you to your room" 

——————————————-

The room was more spacious than you had anticipated, or you were just overjoyed with the difference in size compared to the trapper shack that you imagined the space to be larger than it was. Clean floors, a soft fuzzy rug warmed your feet. There was a small table surrounded by plump pillows to sit on. You appreciated the art work on the walls as the worker quickly and efficiently made up the bed for the evening.

Clean white sheets. A blanket that looked fat with feathers, surly to be cosy this evening. Lanterns were lit, and the large sliding door was opened to reveal the small decking. Two wooden chairs pointed outwards, allowing a view of the rolling fields just over the privacy hedge. Down three wooden steps was a large circular tub, bubbling frantically with steaming hot water. Separated by a wooden panel, that you assumed hid a shower.

Once the woman had left you to your privacy, Grimmjow gruffly announced he was going hunting, leaving you alone in the room without a second glance. You had so many plans. You were going to shower, curl up in one of the outside chairs and read the book you had brought with you, followed by a snack to strive off hunger until your evening meal.

The bed was too inviting, however. Laying down your stretched out your muscles, sinking into the soft padding. It felt heavenly, softly moulding around your body, cradling you perfectly. Just ten minutes you told yourself before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[kroas-adtam]

How about Aeon experiencing his first fall and finding the apple orchard while exploring? Cute Bug just can't stop himself from eating allllll the tasty apples, Swiss finding him all sweet and sticky.....you know 😏

Swiss isn’t one to keep tabs on his fellow ghouls. He’s usually too busy raising Mountain’s stash of fresh grass to notice what the others are doing. But there’s a chill in the air today; breeze bringing in the stinging air of winter… and Aeon is usually bad about wearing a coat.

Aeon is blissfully unaware of the dropping temperatures. He’s discovered an Abbey secret. Rows, and rows, and rows of trees- each freckled with varying colors of ready to be picked apples. Aeon likes fruit. He likes it a lot, considering it’s the only sweet thing the older ghouls let him eat (he’ll devour a whole bag of candy if he can sniff it out).

He finds it’s easy to grab an apple; he’s always been very good at jumping. Biting in to the first one, it’s so sweet, so juicy it runs down his chin. His eyes flutter closed as the next bite feels like a kiss. A sweet, sugary kiss that reminds him of his ghouls. The red apple reminds him of Cirrus’ red lips. The sweetness reminds him of Cumulus’…

He goes to the tree over, standing on tiptoe this time to pick a bright green apple that’s bigger than his fist. This one is tart, it makes the back of his jaw tingle. He shivers as it flashes Rain through his mind.

Aeon opens his heavy eyes and spies a golden apple. The color reminds him of the beautiful gold clips and charms in Swiss’ locs and the earrings that line his ears. He can reach this one with ease, holding the two half eaten apples to his chest as he holds the new one to his lips. Something in the air catches his attention and he smiles before biting into the golden apple and moaning softly as the unique flavor washes over his tongue, sinking him deep into his first memory of being with Swiss.

“An apple makes you moan?” The voice of said ghoul floats to him on the breeze. His scent gave him away but Aeon still feigns surprise at the ghoul finding him like this- apples in his arms, sweet juice making his chin, lips and hands sticky. He swallows the bite before sticking his tongue out and leaping at the crunchy meat of the golden apple.

“Only when it tastes like you.” Swiss pauses midstep at Aeon’s words.

“Tastes like me?”

“Mmhmm,” Aeon hums, taking another bite, Swiss’ eye twitches at the drop of apple juice that falls from his chin to his hand.

“I taste like an apple, hm?” Swiss regains his pace and doesn’t stop until he’s nearly chest to chest with the shorter ghoul.

“Wanna find out?” Aeon grins, swallowing his bite.

“You look sticky.” Swiss comments, glancing at Aeon’s chin and hands.

“Then clean me up.” Aeon says simply, teasing and a little brattiness flashing in his eyes.

“Anything you say, sugar.”

Aeon drops all his apples as Swiss wraps his arms around his waist and kisses him deeply, sinfully, shoving him back against the nearest tree.

[namelessbutters-doodles]

First time Mdni 18+

Characters: Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, etc.

Pairing: Stardemon.

Setting: Early 70s or mid 70s.

Summary: ‘’Gene…..’’

‘’Paul.’’

‘’Am I….am I…’’ He gulps, trembling before me like a leaf. My eyes gazed upon him as I sat upon a rock , watching him reveal his body to me as he took off every piece of clothing known to man as he struggled with his words. Breathing heavily and shaking vibrantly with nervousness, taking off the final piece of clothing.

Baring his naked body before me, the clothing falling to the ground beside him. Shedding his skin from his cocoon and becoming a butterfly that bloomed with life as he lifted his head up, facing me for the first time since he brought me to this little spot set deep in the woods underneath the night sky where the stars shone on us from above with their glow. The bushes and leaves flying in the air from the breeze between us, as I stared at the most beautiful thing in front of me....

__________

⚠️Warnings: Love confessions, first time, first kiss, Pov First Person, nudity, Anal sex, Anal gaping, Realization, blowjob, ass to mouth, porn with plot, licking, boys kissing, neck kissing, metaphors, symbolism, a bit angst but good things are coming, men crying, ask to tag! (more tags on A03)

Two men fucking in the forest, five feet close cause they are gay~

Reblogs and Comments, are Deeply appreciated!

NowOnAo3~

‘’Gene…..’’

‘’Paul.’’

‘’Am I….am I…’’ He gulps, trembling before me like a leaf. My eyes gazed upon him as I sat upon a rock , watching him reveal his body to me as he took off every piece of clothing known to man as he struggled with his words. Breathing heavily and shaking vibrantly with nervousness, taking off the final piece of clothing.

Baring his naked body before me, the clothing falling to the ground beside him. Shedding his skin from his cocoon and becoming a butterfly that bloomed with life as he lifted his head up, facing me for the first time since he brought me to this little spot set deep in the woods underneath the night sky where the stars shone on us from above with their glow. The bushes and leaves flying in the air from the breeze between us, as I stared at the most beautiful thing in front of me.

His dashing curls flowing, brown eyes trembling fearfully but shining radiantly like diamonds in the sky that reminded me so much of the delicious sweets that were sweet as him like honey from the bees and the delights of the chocolate that would explode with excitement of intoxicating taste when punctured with teeth, filling your body with nothing but joy that no ever brought me except for…

Him, my sweet…

Starlight. 

‘’Gene…..’’ 

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Am…i…B-beautiful?’’ He questioned, stuttering all by his lonesome. Keeping his gaze to the grassy floors, my words got stuck in my throat like the tongue in my mouth twisted from how just how he glowed from the things around us that made him seem like the true starlight he was like the fireflies that swirled around us with the sight of a dove that appeared in my sight just for second as took a deep breath to keep my composure from how much he was becoming more beautiful in my eyes. More beautiful than the roses he would pluck from the bushes with those hands of his that made his guitar skills heightened to an extent, more beautiful than the fame we’ve achieved by playing together after all these years.

More beautiful than the fame, the money and the groupies that came along after everything, more beautiful than…

Life all together, I thought. 

Swallowing nothing but the smell of that aramis perfume that penetrated deeply into my nostrils that he loved to spray on himself to make him smell more even better than vanilla and spices he would use once in a for special occasions that he would only know about and maybe once in a while would confined into me privately in which….

I would always love to do, no matter what.

Letting me sniff and touch his curls with my nose or hands, sinking them deeply within the waves of the browns that would come up from the black when my fingers would fly through to them like a surfboard, twirling them around my finger than letting them fall gracefully in his face like a rose. Stroking his head, feeling those fluffs when i sunk my nose deep into them, sniffing so close and personal I get the full whiff of them. Filling my entire whole eternal being with his smell I came to love and crave for after all these years of being together and becoming more than just acquaintances.

More than just friends, best friends, brothers, band members.

More than all those, we’ve become….

Close and it seems….

Tonight…

We’re becoming even closer than before….like…

Lovers, Dear lovers.

I never thought of ... .but I wouldn't care any less since….

I love him.

‘’Ge-.’’

‘’Your Beautiful, Starlight.’’ I huskily spoke, getting up from the rock slowly. Leaves crunching underneath my shoes as I walk slowly towards him, seeing him perk up. I slowly take every inch of clothing off as I reveal my body to his sight, hearing some things around us make music when I come closer to him. Baring myself to him like he did to me, the sounds of the crickets starting up with their chitter chatter, shooting stars appearing from the galaxies far deep up where most of those gorgeous stars lay that reminded me so much of him. The fireflies glowing even more as I take off my shirt, throwing it somewhere between the trees that the leaves and branches fell from.

Would it be a hassle to find it later? Maybe but i was so lost in that face of his, i wasn’t thinking at all when i shed more of my clothing like a true butterfly like him, sliding my trousers down to the point of letting slid off behind me when i undid more of me, leaving a messy trail of clothing behind me until….

I was close enough to him, our bodies were nearly touching. Our breathing appeared clearly from the cold when we took deep breaths from how close we were, our eyes looking in one another. Reflecting off like it was mirrors, taking in our appearances like the gods and kings we were to the world we lived in, our hair flowing in the wind from the breeze becoming stronger each second we stare at each other, as if we say nothing.

Relishing the sight between us, I slowly lift up my hand.

He watched, as if in anticipation and slow motion.

Eyes lighting up like the fireflies, my hand touched the side of his cheek.

Trailing it against the softness of his skin, the freckles you can’t really see from a distance now are clear to me, to the side of his lips that were so pink and vulnerable I could just kiss him yet I resisted, letting him feel my touch slowly as possible. Massaging my thumb on the lips that wailed loudly with a voice of a siren that could put you in a hypnotic trance with one word and one only.

Either by talking or just singing with a voice from someone like him who truly is the star in my life who deserves many things from how hard he has always worked towards his goal to become the greatest rockstar ever in the world besides me, working so hard and vibrant it made my heart yearned for him, everytime he lit up when the song he created for the albums made it big or made millions of fans happy that a song he made, made there hearts big like we made the world big.

As his doe eyes widened, my thumb settled in the middle of the lips. 

His cold breath grazed my thumb, I lightly pulled his lower lip down.

I leaned in, and with a whisper….

With the music and beings around us…

My heart beats for him as I proclaimed….

‘’You're as beautiful as the day I met you, Starlight. So beautiful….As the Moon.’’ 

I said, proudly.

And just like that, his face lit up as I went in and pressed my lips against his.

Sealing them with a kiss from a devil like me, letting ourselves feel each other as mighty eternal flame ignited in our bodies as our hands went on each other, my hands caressing his body as I slid them down on his sides, feeling bits of fat between them as I lightly squished them. Hearing a slight gasp, I went in for more. Smushing our lips together, making love with our tongues.

Twirling them around, curling, twisting, exploring the vastness of the insides of our mouths together, his hands going everywhere on my body, touching the bits of my chest hair as I touched his, feeling my ass as I did with his, the roundness of it. Digging my hand in that skin, gripping it like a landline, hearing him whimpering as I felt it more and more. Almost dipping him into the grass, almost letting him from my hold yet I didn't and instead I lifted him with my strength.

He wrapped his legs around my waist, his hands around my neck.

Pressing deep into my mouth with that tongue of his, even though it’s not long or girthy like mine, it makes the flame deep inside my core, ignite more like a furnace. Becoming hotter and stronger than hell itself. Becoming harder to breathe as we don’t break from the kiss, keeping ourselves to the point we sweat so much, it drips off our bodies and onto the grassy floor beneath us. My hand becomes sweatier from the vicious grip I have on his ass, planting them on both his cheeks, feeling so close and personal with him as things…

Get more wooden around here, if you know what i’m saying.

Strands of our hair stick to our faces, shoulders and skin, the scent of his perfume becoming more like a drug to me than just a smell, inhaling through my nostrils more and letting it fuse my smell with his smell, our cocks becoming hardened and rubbing up against one another like a pack of animals desperate for there mate. Saliva mingling, dribbling and slobbering as the moans from us become huskier and louder as we….

Pulled apart, breaking for some air.

Yet, our drools from both of our mouths were still connected as it dripped.

I breathed, he breathed.

We both swallowed, trembling. 

Taking deep breaths from what just happened, he looks at me.

Tears peeking out from the sides of his eyes, his lips swollen as day.

‘’You…think I'm that beautiful? After A-all these years…?’’ He tearfully says. 

‘’Of course, why wouldn’t i?’’ i asked, softly.

He swallowed, I wiped the tears away.

‘’Because…i or no one ever told me nor thought of that i was as beautiful as the moon.’’ he says, looking at me with those eyes. ‘’Am i…that beautiful to you? Would I still be beautiful like the moon when we grow older as the years pass by? Would you still even love me, if I wasn't beautiful to you? Would i-’’ 

‘’Hush.’’ I silenced him, caressing his cheek. Wiping bits of the tears streaming down his face with the tips of my fingers, kissing his forehead gently thus stroking his head gently as a lamb, I embraced him.

Comforting him with my body then my words.

‘’Even when we grow old and wither as the years pass, you’ll be the brightful starchild as you are now, a powerful singer and artist plus the one you can rely everything when you need and when we’re old and you need help, i’ll be there…like always.’’

‘’Even when wicked lester ended?’’

‘’Yeah, and probably when kiss achieved everything and when we play at Madison Square garden, selling out all those tickets to the fans, to our family and friends, then the world, we’ll still be together.’’

‘’You sure? Even if….the world doesn’t like…’’

He sighs, face scrunching.

Lips wobbling.

‘’Men like us?’’ He croaks, I grimace. Turning up to the skies where the stars lay, some of them were shooting down as if i was making a wish for him, a wish where the world wouldn’t judge anyone for who they’ve loved, not caring in the slightest who it was. I silently wished for a day like today, tomorrow, anyday….

A day where no one would judge a person for who they loved.

Women and men.

Women and men….

Men and Men..

Everyone should love each other, no matter what.

Yet it's a long time, but when the time comes…

I’ll be happy with him.

I smiled at the thought, turning back to him.

Taking his hand into mine, we both stared at each other as I spoke.

‘’The world may not like us now, but maybe in the future ... .they'll like and accept us for who and what we are, it may not be today, tomorrow or someday but in the future. There'll be a time where we will be able to show the world the true us. The friendship between us that started with a simple interaction now has turned into something I can’t ever imagine happening to me and you….Starlight.’’

‘’You hope?’’

‘’No…i wish.’’ 

‘’You wish? On what?’’

‘’On the stars that reminds me of you baby.’’

He smiles, more tears streamed down on his face.

He sniffles, his mouth opens.

‘’If you wish on the stars, then how can i know we won’t end up in a car full of flames?’’

‘’Easy, i’ll doused them down with the blood from my mouth.’’ I joked, he giggled but he asked another question, a serious look in his eyes that glimmered like chocolate delights.

‘’Then how could i know you’ll love me so much when you can’t show it in public like our fans show their love to us?’’ 

‘’Simple…i’ll show you how much i love, maybe not in public but in private i’ll let you know how much i love you, with a simple hold of my hand, touch of my lips, the sound of my voice or your’s, my body on yours or your body on mine, i’ll let you know that a demon like me. Loves you so much like the true shining starchild you are to everyone and to everything known to men, loves you for you and no one else, i love you…Paul.’’

‘’Genie….’’ he breathed, his heart warming as he intertwined his hands with mine, closing his fingers with mine, the stars shoot down more, as fireflies came and went, the chitter chatter of the crickets went silent as the music of nature enhance around us, the air becoming much colder but we didn’t care, our eyes glowed brightly as he leaned against me, laying on my shoulder as the bushes rattled, flowers danced with the breeze, and the faint sound of a mysterious bird cooing in the distanced, he breathed.

Taking small breaths, as my hands rested on his ass.

Our hearts and minds raced, sweat dripped off.

He talks, whispering to me like it was a secret or a miracle, as I listened….

To him.

‘’Gene…’’

‘’Yes, paulie?’’

He takes a breath, my heart skipping a beat.

A noticeable blush forms across his face, I hold him closer.

His mouth opened, my eyes widened.

‘’Make love to me, Gene.’’ 

He pulled away from my ear, I looked at him in awe.

‘’Please, make love to me.’’

‘’Paul, are you sure?’’

‘’Y-yes, I'm sure and i know that the world will not be ready for us, but i know that you are my world, and you will be ready for me always.’’

‘’Paul….’’

‘’And…if we don’t last…’’

‘’Paul…’’

‘’You’ll always be…’’

‘’Paul..’’

‘’There for me.’’

‘’Paul.’’

‘’Gene Simmons….make love to me right here, right now.’’ He spoke and i…

Took him, as the Moon watched us from above.

‘’Gene...Gene…Gene…Gene…’’ He panted, moaning softly to my ears. I rutted as my cock slid against his fleshy walls, thrusting into him slowly as possibly as I could. Not wanting to hurt him, I massage his insides with my cock. Looking down at him, his eyes were shut tight.

Face scrunching in pleasure, as I slowly went deep inside him.

Almost hitting his prostate, but I didn't as I focused on his face.

Watching his every movement possible, my hands spread his legs as i look down at the sight which made me moaned, looking down at the my cock was in him as his cock was laying limply on his stomach, twitching and almost leaking precum already, he was in indeed mr speed i guess but i didn’t mind since…

I’m giving him the love he craves and deserves, in this secrecy of the forest.

I slid deeper into him, he cried out loudly.

The tip of my cock hitting the prostate, he shook.

Quivering so much, his nipples perked up from how much he was feeling.

I tenderly thrusted deeper, he wailed.

So vocal, I thought.

Thrusted again, going deeper.

His asshole clenching on my cock, he breathily moaned.

‘’Tight too…’’ I quietly whispered, pulling out. He cried, the tip of my cock grazing his rim. His asshole gaping, as it clenched on nothing but air, his hole pink as a plum. Clenching by itself, wanting me to go back inside it seems but instead i didn’t. Instead i…

I spat on my hand, coating my cock.

Holding it with my grip, Paul stares at me with wanting eyes.

Watching me pump my cock, he pumped his.

Stroking ourselves, I questioned.

‘’Were you feeling good?’’

‘’Y-yes…’’ he stuttered, sliding his hand down from the tip of his cock.

‘’Do you want to feel even more good, Baby?’’

‘’Yes, dear god yes.’’ he whined, shaking. 

‘’Then come to me, Starlight. Come to me…please.’’ holding out my hand, he comes to me. Crawling on all fours, slow as a fawn but flawlessly as a buck. His cock hangs limply, as he crawls. He stares at me as he gets close to me, grabbing my cock and his.

He rubs and strokes them with his hands, giving us both pleasures.

Going slow then fast, the tip then down to the balls.

Squishing them, then back up to the top.

Over and over, our tips are touching.

Leaking precum, him and i.

Both of us let out shaky breaths, the core of our arousals growing rapidly from each stroke, pump, touch, glide or squeeze of his hand, squeezing much harder as we get to the peak to this moment, not breaking eye contact at all.

As we slowly leaned into one another, breathing our hot and heavy breaths onto each other, rubbing our cocks against each other, coating them with my saliva and some precum. High moans become higher than lower. My hand goes to his nipple, pinching it.

He let out a wail that echoed throughout the forest, his hand let go of our cocks.

quaking as he panted as I pinched and pulled his nipples hard enough they’ve turned red.

‘’Ge-AH~!’’ He keened, twisting them harder.

I grabbed his cock, pumping with ease. Giving him more pleasure, I almost made him came from my hand alone.

Whining, pleading and moaning relentlessly.

‘’Has no ever touched you like this?’’ I asked, grabbing his balls.

‘’N-NO-AHHH!’’ Paul cried, I squished them.

‘’Am i your first then?’’ 

He nodded, I pushed him down on the ground below a little as I squished his balls more.

His legs twitching, I held his balls tighter like it was gold. As my other hand spread his legs enough, I saw his hole gaping from a slight glance. Maneuvering him to get the perfect position that got us both squirming and crying out in no time, his hands went down and opened up his hole.

Spreading his cheeks enough for me to see the deepness of it, he trembled. The rim becoming sensitive and red as i touched and prodded it with my tongue for a bit to get all wet thus even more easier for me to slid in than before, he quivered from tongue as i tasted his insides and ate him out like he was a creme filling donut, slithering all the way inside of him. Closing my mouth, he moans my name on his lips.

Twisting around, I licked and licked and thus ate his juices.

Juices so good, I wanted more of it.

Taking my tongue out, my nose went inside his hole. Inhaling his smell, almost penetrating yet i didn't as fully inhale the insides of his hole with my nose, inhaling everything in its wake, smelling everything known to man, getting more hard from how much of my tongue touched his fleshy insides, i growled.

‘’Gene, what are yo-OH!’’ 

Instantly licked his hole, swirling around that pucker. Twirling around, thus slurping on it enough he groaned, I smirked.

Swallowing his juices, I took my mouth off the hole as my drool dropped on it.

‘’Genie….’’

I looked at him, his face flushed.

Curls all messy, face and body all red.

Cock leaking precum on the grass, I go in for more.

My tongue and mouth made love to his hole, balls then cock as I sucked on it.

Breathing madly each time I sucked down, taking him deeper into my mouth.

My tongue slithering around his cock, feeling his veins protrude from within out.

He wailed so much, I went for more.

Slurping….slobbering…sucking….then…

Popping off with a kiss from a demon.

Trembling mess he was, letting out sounds that were shaky enough i thought he’ll faint from this but he didn’t and instead he looked me dead in the eyes, his mouth wobbling as his heart raced from my touch, goosebumps were all over and his arousal hotter than mine were apparent as tears peaked out.

He breathlessly said….

‘’Genie…i need you..please…i can’t take it anymore…please.’’ He begged, letting his legs spread more, setting them down on the ground. Shaking like a leaf, as tears slid down his cheeks, holding his hands out to me. Looking like a god, his eyes gleaming as his hair was all over the place on the grassy floor, his body, his face, everything….

He was a part of the forest.

The star of the forest.

My star.

‘’Please…i’m ready for you.’’ He pleaded, holding his arms more.

‘’So ready, i can’t take it….’’

‘’Gene…’’

He faintly said, as I went into his arms.

Sliding my cock slowly between his cheeks, sinking deep into his hole.

Near enough to touch his prostate, wrapping his arms around my neck.

His legs around my waist, we look at each other.

We groaned and moaned, tears in our eyes.

Pulling out a little, he stated.

‘’I love you.’’

I smiled, leaning into his lips.

I softly whisper….

‘’I love you, to Paul.’’ 

Thus I thrusted in and out, in and out, over and over.

Stretching him a little, with the help of our fluids, it was much more better than i could ever imagined it to be, massaging his insides, rolling my hips as i made love to him on this very night in the middle of the forest where no one would interrupt us for the time being, which was strange for me at first but i don’t care.

It made this very moment between us a memory, so powerful I would do it over until nothing else matters in the world except for him, taking his lips into mine. Hearing those moans and whines as I glide my cock between his walls of flesh, hitting deep and hard into his prostate.

Catching his moans, wails and screams of pleasure into my mouth. His mouth becoming more swollen as our sweat mixed in with one another, I embraced my hold on him, he did the same. Pounding his insides gently, so I could hear that long high moan from him as let go of his mouth, looking at him as he did it, then doing it again as I went balls deep enough, my balls smacked him.

Grinding deeper, churning his lovely insides enough they felt like butter to me, smushing and gushing in all, he moaned and whimpered as we changed positions in a flash, jackhammering into him, as I lifted up his leg.

‘’Holy shit….baby…’’ I moaned, he looked at me.

His mouth widening, his breath stuttering.

His nipples are more peaked, his cock leaking.

He doesn't know what to say as i thrusted harsher into him.

‘’You feel so good….so good…fuck…’’

‘’I-i d-d-do?’’ he stuttered, I nodded.

Putting his leg on my shoulder, I leaned my head against his.

I plunged deeper, his eyes went into the back of his head.

‘’So..good…baby…baby…i don’t know if i can control myself anymore….’’ I panted, rolling my hips, they stuttered. ‘’Fuck….paulie…’’

‘’Th-then le-let go then….’’

‘’Huh?’’

‘’Let go then…please..’’

‘’You sure?’’ I asked, his hands grabbed the sides of my face.

‘’I’m sure.’’

‘’What if i hurt you?’’ I go, he chuckled.

‘’You can never hurt me, Gene.’’ He smiled, caressing my cheeks. ‘’I trust you.’’

‘’How much do you trust me?’’

‘’Enough until the end of time.’’ He spoke, I questioned.

‘’Enough?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Would you tell me if i do hurt you?’’

‘’Yes, always.’’

‘’Always…on my life.’’

‘’Even when i upset you?’’

‘i promise.’’

‘’On what?’’

‘’Us.’’  he crooned, kissing me passionately on my lips as i began to let go of myself as i ground him into the grass, grunting loudly as i fucked him to the brink of no tommorow. Slamming my cock into him with a force of a bull, hitting in all of the spots i can find to make him cry out in pleasure for me to know what makes him tick or what not makes him tick, intertwining ourselves with our bodies so much the souls of us connect with each other as we connect more. Planting steamy kisses on his neck, his moans stuttering as sucked on the sides of neck, sinking my mouth on it, slurping the sides, nibbling then biting down on it.

Crying out, my mouth held on his neck enough for a hickey to form as my mouth left the spot, i knew it was a bad or risky idea but in the heat of the moment i don’t care at all what happens as kissed his chest, licking the chest hair and pecking the swollen nipples i’ve abused with my fingers as smoothed and nursed them with my mouth, sucking on them as his hand gripped my hand.

Holding each other, looking down.

We watched our faces explode with intensity, working out our muscles to the sound of the music were making the rhythms of the beats happening, the playing of our bodies and sweet sounds of the choir going off as we both gripped our hands together like a rope, not letting go as we moved around in harmony, as i slammed on the bass and he sang loudly like the rockstar he was.

Pummeling his prostate, going deep into him enough he cried out my name over and over like a prayer, rambling on so many things that made me go harder on him i stood in a frenzy and fucked him while standing, getting a clear look at such a beauty i have in my holding. Slamming my balls, he howled with pleasure as it echoed once more.

‘’GENE!!!’’

‘’That’s right….say it.’’’

‘’GENE!!!’’

‘’Say it, shout it.’’ i urged, he did.

‘’GENNNNEEEEE!!!’’

‘’There we go, again.’’ I go, frantically thrusting into him. He cries out my name, whimpering.

‘’GENNNEEEE!!!!’’ 

He repeated over and over, screaming out louder and I loved it so much I went faster, so fast my hands went to his rump, moving it with my hands, up and down he went. Bouncing on it, hearing the noise of his cheeks clapping thus he clenched on my cock, I howled with arousal. My beating inside of him as I moved my hips more and more, making him see every star in existence as I brought him more further to his end.

I didn’t want this to end, but it’s getting there and i can tell he’s enjoying it so much it fuels my heart knowing how good i’m making him feel just by making sweet love to him, filling him up with so much of me, i see more tears streaming as his started to fly from the breeze as he stared at me with the moon gleaming on us with its presence like the stars did, no clouds in the distance, no animals, no music or anything in this moment, it was just….

The two of us.

Showing our declaration of love to each other, reaching our peak.

Knowing this might change us, we’ll still have each other.

Him and I both know the consequences if people found out about this, we’ll be doomed, wasted…death but as long we have each other’s backs, even if worse is to come ... .We'll make it….

We always do, him and i.

Even if we can't be in public, then I promise in the privacy of our lives…

I’ll let him know that I'll love him ... .everyday…

‘’GENE!’’

I swear it. 

‘’OH GOD!!!’’ He screamed, letting go of me as I fell to the ground with him on top of me. Plunging then out, then in, then out, he looked at me as I rocked both worlds of us, clutching him deeply into my hold enough I slammed into him, we cried out.

The heat getting unbearably stronger with harsher thrusts, faces blooming with so much redness, our hairs sticking to our bodies, as he moved his ass up and down on my cock as i moved with him, feeling my cock gurgling and his core about to explode violently as his eyes widened as i slammed into him, quaking so much he skyrocketed to infinity.

‘’’Ohhhh….’’ He groaned, breathing shakily.

‘’Getting close?’’

‘’’Mhm…..’’

He answered, eyes struggling to stay focused on me. I turned him around, let him lay on me so he could be comfortable, looking up at me. Taking deep breaths with each moan coming out from his mouth, my hand went to his cock. Wrapping my hand around it, gently stroking it as he twitched.

‘’Gene….’’’

‘’What, Starlight?’’ 

‘’I love you….so much.’’ 

‘’I know Starlight, i know.’’

‘’You know….?’’

‘’Yes i know, and….i will let you know everyday of our lives.’’

‘’Genie….’’

‘’Paulie.’’

Our lips connect, the thrusts resumed as the love of this night continued on with the music our love that grew stronger and hotter with each second i fucked, loved and filled him up. Switching positions so much, we were covered in bits of grass, some flowers and a little bit of dirt, but it doesn’t hurt once in a while as the flame in both of us grew and grew as the stars shined brighter and the breeze of the wind got warmer as I felt….

My peak, about to burst and his as well…

Judging from the expressions I'm getting from him, he’s so close.

I can feel it, I gritted my teeth.

‘’Paul!’’ I screamed, pressing down into him.

My hips stuttered, his breath shook.

‘’Gene!’’ he howled, clenching on my cock.

And just like that…..

I let go, he let go.

Flooding him with my seed, he bursted out with his as his cock spurted everything in his wake, leaving splatters or lines on his body as it went on mine, our faces twisted with pleasure, trembling so much, i almost blacked out from the biggest load i’d ever done in my life, almost seeing heaven or hell or whatever out’s there, it was exhilarating and….

Orgasmic. 

I didn’t move, he didn’t move either as we just layed in the mess of our fluids.

Breathing loudly, hearts and cocks beating like a drum.

I Wanted to pull out but I didn't want to since I was flooding with my seed so much I could feel it trickle or gushed out from him, it felt…no…he felt good…

He was more than good, He was….

Gorgeous.

I turned down to him, seeing him trembling from the aftershocks.

Covered in nothing but sweat, seed and tears.

My hand touched his cheek, he lazily looked at me….with that sweet smile of his.

I smiled at him, leaning down in his face.

‘’Gene….’’

‘’Paul.’’ 

‘’Thank you…..’’ He croaks, I moved a strand of hair away from his face.

His browns full of cloudiness, breathing almost becoming normal, lightly touching the mark on his neck, he quivered.

‘’For what?’’ I questioned, quietly.

‘’For loving me for me and treating me so well tonight…..’’

‘’No worries, baby.’’

‘’Will…there…always be nights like this after this one?’’

‘’Yes, i promise.’’

‘’You promise?’’

‘’Yeah….i swear on it.’’ 

And I swear on it I did, as I sealed the night off with a kiss….

From the Star of the night, who’s the….

Bright Shining star in my life.

the one and only….

Paul Stanley. 

Been wanting to do this for awhile, cause i've been in the mood and the thought of Paul and Gene fucking together for the first time in the forest with each other does something to me, so I hope you guys enjoy this story as I much did writing it.

Also, I've come to realize I do first person way better than I thought!

hopefully there'll be more soon and I hope you are ready for the smut storm to come cause boy.....

it's going to be raining men!

Tagging the butters of the balls - @angelbambisworld

@elrohare @starry-eyed-never-satisfied

@genesstankycodpiece

@paladinshenanigan-blog

@sagii24

@cei606

@insanityisdivine

@speckster

@spacedoutman

@heavy-metal-baby

@raedroid2004

@ravenh37

@vinniesasslicker1

@sluttery-withoutshame

@tanookikiss

and anyone else who comes to this in there wake, I hope you enjoy ^W^

Anyway....

Love, butters!

( ˘ ³˘)♥