#the tenderness. how he waits for her touch and follows her every movement. THE EYE CONTACT!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[bladeofthewest]

Sometimes I felt like we were dancing our way towards something deeper.

#bg3edit #bg3 #the emperor #the emperor bg3 #the emperor x tav #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #gamingedit #myedit #oc: rhanni #the tenderness. how he waits for her touch and follows her every movement. THE EYE CONTACT!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 #drives me crazy every time

[heytheredelulu]

Unbreakable - The After Years

Follow up to Unbreakable, my Bucky Barnes x Reader fic.

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, sexual references

You don’t get pregnant after that first time. You hadn’t been in your fertile window but were still disappointed with your negative test despite knowing it wouldn’t have been positive when you took it.

When your period came, Bucky brought you your favorite snacks, bought you a new fluffy blanket and a pack of ovulation tests that he gave to you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

The first time you got the smiley face on your ovulation test you nearly tackled him when he came through the door that evening, brandishing the test stick at him and peppering kisses on every bare inch of skin you could find.

He made love to you constantly, regardless of where you were in your cycle, just craving the intimacy of being raw inside you, of the feeling of his warm, thick cum spilling within you. He’d rut himself deep into you, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, desperate to be as far in you as he could physically be.

You knew you were pregnant before you even took the test. You’d been cooking dinner and Alpine had hopped onto the counter, craving a good ole head scratch and the idea of cat fur where you were plating your food sent you into a violent gagging fit.

You called Sarah, Sam’s sister and your best friend and she squealed so loud you nearly dropped your phone. She stayed on FaceTime with you while you anxiously took the test, not even needing to wait the full three minutes for the results because you had a blazing positive the moment your urine passed through the window. You made her promise not to speak a word of it to Sam before you had the chance to tell Bucky.

He could sense something was up the moment he got home. His enhanced senses followed your strange new scent into the living room and when his eyes met yours, he knew- he knew you were carrying his child. Tears brimmed his lower lids the second you stood up and he pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you fiercely as he cried tears of joy.

Bucky was attentive and overly protective of you l you anyways and once you were pregnant he became over the top to say the least. He doted on you constantly, always asking, “Are you feeling okay, Angel?” “Have you eaten today?” “What can I get you?” Sam and Sarah always teased him, saying he would treat you as if you were made of glass.

He accompanied you to every appointment, his foot tapping anxiously before every ultrasound, his eyes wet with tears every time he had the opportunity to see the small little movements on the screen, every time he heard the fast paced thump thump thump of his baby’s heartbeat inside your womb.

The first time he felt her kick- his daughter- his flesh hand was resting affectionately against the swell of your abdomen, where it lay almost any chance he had. You’d been watching a movie, lounged on the couch together with Alpine curled in his lap. The tiny flutter against his palm drew a sharp gasp from his chest, his eyes wide as he whispered in a voice of disbelief, “Angel, I felt her. She’s kicking. She’s kicking, isn’t she?”

Bucky was the first to buy things for his baby girl. He constantly came home with outfits, bows and blankets, excitedly showing you what he’d picked out. Anytime a package arrive in the mail you knew it was something else he’d bought for your daughter, spending entirely too much time online shopping once he’d figured out how to navigate Amazon.

You’d painted the nursery together, laughing and teasing him once you’d finished and he began attempting to put together the crib. The instructions ended up crumpled in a ball as he wiped sweat off his forehead, motherfucking the pieces laid out on the floor in front of him. Once he’d finally conquered ‘the damn thing’ you kissed him deeply as you admired the nursery, the kiss quickly becoming gentle touches and heavy breathing until you made love on the soft carpeted floor. He took his time exploring every inch of your body, his thrusts careful, slow and sensual as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

Your water broke late in the evening, while he was drawing you a bath to soak your sore back and swollen ankles. Bucky raced around the house in a panic, passing the hospital bag several times while looking for it as you watched with an amused smirk. “Baby, take a breath.” You told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Your labor was long and hours blurred together amidst the pain and anxiety but Bucky never left your side. He held your hand, pushed your hair off your forehead and whispered words of praise and encouragement against your ear as he kissed your temple. At one point he climbed into the bed with you, settling his powerful frame behind you as he drew you to his broad chest, holding you against him as you labored until it was time to push. Fortunately you didn’t have to push for long before the tiny cry echoed through the room, choked sobs of joy and relief bubbling up from your chest as you slumped back against your weeping husband.

Once you were comfortable, your small, perfect daughter resting against your chest, Bucky headed out into the waiting room with wet cheeks and a proud grin. “Winnifred. Winnifred Natasha Barnes.” He told Sam and Sarah as they stood up excitedly to hug him after having waited for hours for her arrival.

Winnie was a daddy’s girl and she had Bucky wrapped around her finger from the first moment he held her. She looked like you, with his blue eyes and his dark hair and you frequently argued playfully over whose nose she had. Named affectionately after his mother and your fallen friend and teammate, as she grew into her toddler years she definitely gave you both a run for your money as she perfectly emulated Natasha’s fiery personality.

Bucky couldn’t have been more wrong in his fear of being a father. He was the most attentive and loving dad you’d ever seen and you often found yourself lingering in the doorway at night, your heart swelling with love at the sight of the two of them curled up in the rocking chair after having fallen asleep mid bedtime story.

Bucky loved being a father so much that shortly after Winnie’s third birthday you were pregnant a second time. A boy, much to Bucky’s excitement. He would daydream about playing catch with him, teaching him how to fix up the motorcycle- all while he braided Winnie’s hair and chased her around the yard.

It wasn’t more than a year after Steven Samuel Barnes was born that you became pregnant for a third and final time. Your second son, Anthony ‘Tony’ James Barnes being the final and beautiful piece to complete the family you’d only ever dreamed of.

Winnie was the first to find out about who her dad used to be. She was 14 and had come home from school in tears over the cruel things a particular little shit of a classmate had told her. Before you sat her down to tell her everything, you had pulled Bucky into your bedroom, cupping his face with your hands. “Unbreakable.” You reminded him softly, until he nodded, eyes closed with a shaky breath.

It was easier to show Winnie who her dad really was. You took her to the Smithsonian, walking alongside her through the Captain America exhibit, until she stopped wide-eyed in front of the large picture of her father. The panel detailed his service in the 107th, his capture in Azzano and the heroic actions that took place during his time alongside Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos before the tragic fall in 1945 from the train in the Alps. Once she’d had the chance to absorb her dad’s incredible feats, he took her for a long walk along the shore where he told her his story, in his own words- beginning with his time under HYDRA. He told her fond memories of his years in Wakanda, mentioning how incredibly badass the Dora Milaje are and that she would love Ayo, Okye and Shuri and perhaps one day she could meet them. He explained the blip, how he’d fought alongside so many heroes in order to save the Earth from the Mad Titan Thanos and fondly recalled Steve and Tony- her smile widening into a grin as she made the connection to her younger brothers’ names. He ended his story with you- how you met, how he fell in love with you and how you saved him. He told her how you made him a better man, helped him overcome his darkness and how she, his beautiful, resilient, first born child reminds him everyday that everything he had been through was worth it when he saw her smile.

Winnie got detention the next day for foul language. The principal called home to report that when she’d been arguing with a classmate she’d said- and I quote- “My dad saved the fucking planet, Jessica. Your dad’s screwing his secretary.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @wintrsoldrluvr @terry2227

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel imagine #avengers imagine

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Nightcall

Gale x F! Tav (named)

18+ implied trauma, miscommunication, tenderness, loneliness, love triangle dynamics, touch starved, wandering hands, feelings developing

Gale had been spellbound by her, one of the many in that predicament. He was resigned to his one-sided longing until she sought him out after seeing another...

Masterlist

-

"I'll see you at the party, right?" She smiled, settling down next to him. Wiping her armor.

His heart constricted. Staring at her brilliance.

"Yes." He breathed.

She was a vision, truly. Like her whole body had been dipped in golden light. Long waves of yellow hair, tinged with orange. Olive skin, freckles smattering across her nose. The endless gold hues only broken in her eyes, a hauntingly pale blue, nearly grey.

And of course, the tattoo.

It was naturally what people first saw. Curling geometric patterns from the crest of her hairline to the dip of her neck. As if someone had laid gold foil over her in the most lovingly intricate patterns.

It had stunned him to silence when she had pulled him from that stone, eyes getting lost.

She had waited patiently for his mind to restart, arms crossed, standing feet apart.

Catching, he introduced himself as he had intended. Harnessing enough tact to keep his burning curiosity to himself.

Something he became glad for. As they traveled near every person they met had endless questions. Sometimes full-on strangers walking up and pushing invasive inquiries.

Her answers changed like the wind, though she did have a favorite handful of responses.

"An old sacred elf rite of passage."

"Ah, I spent time on a secluded island. Things get wild."

"All wood elves have tattoos, most of them are in places you can't see."

It was honestly impressive how many quips she had on hand. But she probably had ample practice, given the fade of the tattoo.

Only once did she falter.

When they had met Halsin for the first time, he had done the same hypnotized gaze as Gale had at first. And like for him, she had waited.

The druids eyes seemed to light in recognition.

"A morninglord?"

Her body tensed.

"Pardon?" Her tone was casual, smooth. Betraying the tight muscles in her shoulders.

"A child of Lathander, yes? Or am I mistaken?"

"You are."

The silence that held the air was sharp. She offered no more clarification and continued on to ask about Moonrise.

It had been left at that, though their party exchanged glances.

"Well, now I have more questions." Astarion intoned, side eyeing her as they wandered away to search chests.

"I don't know, Fangs. It's clearly a sore subject, I'd say let it drop." Karlach hushed.

"But don't you want to know?" He retorted, exasperated.

"We all want to know. Whether it's any of our business is an entirely different story." Gale sniped, suddenly feeling protective.

"Oh, boo. Why did I get saddled with the goody two shoes..." He scoffed, walking away exuding haughtiness.

As soon as Astarion was out of earshot Karlach turned to him, fervor in her eyes.

"I really really want to know."

Gale smiled. "Of course you do. There must be a good story there."

The tattoo only aided her pull, a silver tongue and a propensity for persuasion. Everything about her had a magnetic pull. A practiced fluid grace in the way she moved, flowing through the world.

He was genuinely shocked when she said she was a bard.

"Really? I would've pegged you for a cleric, maybe a monk. Bards are usually so..."

"Theatrical?" She smiled, leaning her chin on hand.

"That's a word for it."

It wasn't until he heard her play that he understood.

The way that she leaned into her violin, eyes closed. The pull of her bow a deliberate reverent movement.

Though she would often oblige the frequent more upbeat song requests, whenever he found her playing alone it was always the slower songs. The call of her violin a mournful wail, soaring over him.

People naturally leaned towards her, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

He was no different, but he did try to be an asset. Filling in gaps with his talents as he could find them. Figured if he could make himself at least slightly indispensable, he wouldn't get left behind.

Now, the revelery of the tiefling party in full swing he caught sight of her. Heading towards Astarion, that beckoning look in his eyes. Gale's heart sank, but he couldn't blame her. He was... well, Astarion. All sensuality and enthralling beauty.

When she turned from him as they finished talking, he trailed his eyes along her, smirking.

She headed over to him then, smiling warmly. He tried to hide the strain in his face.

"Hello, Gale." Her low melodic voice played his name like a harp.

"Ah, hello. Busy tonight, I wager?" He immediately winced, his words coming out far more clipped than he intended.

"Possibly, I'm not certain yet. There is someone I would enjoy spending some time with tonight."

"Well, Astarion is a solid pick. A little bitey for my tastes, but don't let me deter you from having fun."

Her head tilted slightly, peering into him.

Feeling like a bug under a magnifying glass, he cleared his throat.

It was unfair how beautiful she was, all dignified sloping lines. A heart shaped face further accentuated by a sharp jaw. Slanted fox eyes. Pouty flushed lips. Nose slightly hooked.

He could see a statue being made in her likeness.

Honestly it made sense for her to be with Astarion, they were both breathtaking.

Such an arresting creature giving someone like him the time of day was frankly silly.

"I could be persuaded otherwise..." She stepped a little closer to him.

Heat rising to his neck, he laughed. Surely he was reading this wrong.

"Oh I'll be here for less intense activities. The orb, you know. Don't let me spoil your fun. Go on, indulge."

She seemed uncertain for a moment but eventually left. Giving him one last look over her shoulder.

A stab of longing struck through him, impaling through his stomach.

Ah, loneliness. That familiar companion.

A book propped on his knee he tried to bury his head in literature, Weaving a light inside the cave of his tent.

It was late, he should get some rest. But yearning was eating his stomach.

How embarrassing, he was far too old to have a crush.

He sighed and shut the book decisively.

"Are you still awake?"

He jumped at her soft voice.

"Aurum? I thought you'd be... uh, indisposed."

The edge of his tent flap lifted and her glacial eyes asked for entry.

"Please, come in." He tried to smother the eagerness in his throat.

She closed the flap and tied it down.

His mouth got dry at that. Further more when he realized she was just draped in a robe.

"I have a strange request, if you'll indulge me."

She sat gracefully on knees across from him. Her long hair loose over her shoulders, falling curtain in front of her as she lowered. The two puncture marks in her neck making his stomach tighten.

Anything. You can ask for anything.

"If I could be of service, I'm more than willing to help."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, possibly reconsidering.

Thoughtlessly he leaned forward, taking her hand. Holding it gently between both of his. Hoping his earnestness reached her.

She seemed to relax then, smiling at him in that serene way that made him feel dizzy.

"Can you hold me for the night?"

He blinked. Shock tore through him.

"Yes! I mean, of course."

She smiled wider at him, hand between his turning, rubbing the thin skin of his wrist with her thumb.

Just that small sensation was sending jolts of pleasure across his body.

"Our vampire friend not one for cuddling I assume?"

He felt like he was already pushing it. But she just laughed.

Gods, it strummed a buzzing joy in his chest whenever he could get her to laugh. The sound like wind chimes.

"No. Certainly not. Honestly, I'm not even sure he likes me at all." She pulled close to him on knees, settling onto his bedroll.

He felt like he was holding his breath, not entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

"Well, he's a damned fool if he couldn't see what he had tonight."

She looked up at him then, eyes wide and vulnerable.

His heart was surely pounding loud enough to hear.

She pulled him down with her. Laying him back, she rested her head on his chest, long legs curling up around his. Slender fingers resting over where the orb lay. A contented sigh left her, and he thought he would melt.

Curling his arm around her back, he took the hand over his heart into his, threading their fingers.

"I knew I picked the right person. You're very good at this." He could hear the smile in her voice.

Now she had a front row seat to his thumping heart. But she only nuzzled down further.

"It's a shock to us both. I am not, ahem, practiced in this."

That was a great understatement.

"I have faith that one day you'll let me give you a compliment." Her voice was hushed, drifting.

He chuckled, pulling her hair away from her face. Fingers brushing over her scalp for a moment.

"Mmm, that's nice." She sighed.

He repeated the motion, encouraged. Carding his fingers gently through her silken hair.

Her breath became slow, evening out.

With a heady shot of accomplishment, he realized she was asleep.

Letting his eyes close he submerged himself in this feeling, in this moment.

Truly, he couldn't have imagined the serenity, the puddling he would've felt here. Her body the perfect weight on his, warming him through like the morning sun. Bliss in its entirety.

She pulled further into him, her leg curling up more. The robe falling back, revealing her bare hip.

He almost reached to pull it back over but was hypnotized again.

The line of her plush thighs flowed into hip, leading up in a mesmerizing arch. Creasing along the joint of her curled leg. A teasing dip inside the arch that would perfectly fit his hand. Like it was designed for that exact purpose.

He was absolutely pushing it, but he was nothing if not ambitious.

He slid the hand holding her back downward. Watching her body closely for any discomfort.

When his hand slid over the exposed skin, he had to bite back a moan. Velvet soft. His fingers couldn't help but splay, spreading to get as much contact as he could fit in his reach.

The sight of his wide hand spread over the curves of her sent him reeling.

Just as he had suspected, he slid his hand into that divot perfectly. Utterly entranced by the sight.

That some part of him could fit into her was inconceivable.

She reached across his chest and wrapped around his ribs. Head pushing up to fold into the curve of his neck. Letting out a sweet little whine. Soft breathing washing over his skin like the tide.

The smell of her hair oils wrapped around his head in a slow haze. Lavender and orange blossom.

Head turning into hers, he started to drift. Before he knew it had fallen into a deep sleep.

Bird song lilting through the air, something roused him. Looking bleary-eyed around his tent. Feeling an absence.

Alone.

Another song hung in the air. A clear bell of a voice rising high above.

Like a siren song, it pulled him from his tent.

It was very early, the sun just peeking over the mountains, world still bathed blue. The rest of the camp snoring.

Following the voice, he came upon Aurum sitting in the grass. Knees together, hands resting on her lap. Something near prayer.

Her head was leaned back, calling out only in high haunting tones. A wordless questioning cry.

It stole his breath away. Spellbound.

Her singing would stop in phrases, as if waiting for a response. Starting the wordless hymn over again.

After a third time, she fell quiet. Head falling forward.

The air felt heavy with loss, her hands opening in her lap.

He stepped back quietly, hand to his chest. A hollow sweeping pain pulling through it.

Returning to camp he started a low fire, putting the kettle over it. Finding his best tea that he had stashed away.

Setting up two cups.

He would have to get used to waking up early.

~

Part 2

#gale failing every insight check. a tale old as time #gale x tav #gale smut #bg3 smut #screenshot by @dekariosz #lyrics from: choreomania - florence and the machine

[fangsofdestruction]

"Tell me, Sesshomaru, do you think you can continually tease me and get away with it? Just who do you think I am~?", Kikyou purred softly, gazing at him from the corner of her eyes with a smile that could only be described as devious and filled with promise of retribution.

Taking advantage of the fact that they were alone and had their privacy, Kikyou had decided to follow up with this morning's antics and all the others that had came before. It was about time he faced the repercussions of his deeds. And if she failed, it simply meant she had to try another tactic.

Kikyou took a sip of her tea and calmly placed the cup down before moving with grace and elegance akin to a cat.

Hovering above his lap, Kikyou's knees were pressed onto each side of the demon. Obsidian, silken tresses cascaded down her straightened back, bodice leaning into the male. Outstretched hands were placed respectively on either side of his head against the sturdy wall. Every breath brushed her heaving bosom against that masculine frame. Mocha browns never waved from those golden hues, as her head tilted forward and plump lips caressed his jawline, slowly making their way to his ear. "Be prepared, my beloved. I will return everything twice fold as you deserve." Kikyou smirked and placed a kiss to the tip of his ear and then the base with precision and tenderness. "You are fully cognizant of my tenacity, yes? This former miko has every intention of responding to each and every one of your demonstrations. May not be immediately or within the same day, but I promise that you will never escape your punishment." Kikyou smiled and moved her head back to face him, lips parting for a pink tongue to slip out and glide along his lips slowly and deliberately.

"My one and only..Sesshomaru." Lips found his and this time, a proper kiss was given to her love.

[Unprompted ask]

Sesshomaru had never thought that Kikyo wouldn’t retaliate in some manner, as it was within her right to do so. Her having waited until now was likely due in part to her devising a planned method of attack. Curious, the Demon quietly awaited her approach, golden eyes fixated on each of her movements while his ears were fully attuned to her words. Hovering over his lap, knees pressed on either side of him, their bodies were pushed extremely close to one another. The warmth of her body and her gentle scent wafted into his nose, and he could discern a hint of excitement from the hormonal trails his olfactory senses could pick up. Just like how dogs could pick up stress hormones in humans, he too could pick up on the hormonal shifts in a human to ascertain their emotional status.

Groomed eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation, curious to see what else he had planned, and the kiss at the tip of his ear that travelled to the base of his jawline earned a reaction he was sure she’d been craving. A low grunting growl from the depths of his chest, but it hadn’t sounded threatening at all. It may be low, but it was soft, and rounded. If not for the fact he’d be offended by the comparison, one could liken it to a purr of a feline, but it was more aptly surmised as a sound of pleasure mixed with restraint. Hands found their way to her thighs, gripping onto them like the one lifeline he had to keep his rationale from slipping into a frenzy. Claws just barely touching the surface of her flesh, a sign that he’d managed to retain a semblance of control.

“It’s unwise to tempt a beast, but that had never been a concern for you.” He responds in kind, his voice reaching a lower octave she’d never heard it reach before.

Their lips meet and for only a moment do his claws lightly prickle against her skin, but not to the point to draw blood. As if he’d noticed this, his fingers maneuvered themselves so only the pads of his fingertips made contact with her thighs, rubbing gentle circles into where his claws had just been.

Once air was a necessity once more did they part from their kiss. One hand reaches to cradle the back of her head, enjoying the feel of her silken tresses running through his fingertips. “The destiny I’ve waited many moons to be reunited with again.” Touching their foreheads together, “Testing the limits of my control is a dangerous game to play, dearest. One I’m not quite yet prepared to face the consequences of.” He still was unsure of whether he would not cause her great harm from touching her, “sooner than you think, your Sesshomaru will have you feel what it means to belong to him in your entirety. Eagerly await that time, beloved.”

#Blossomingbellflower #(Under the Banner of the Inugami. Yakuyoukai) #(The Romance That Transcends The Ages. SessKik) #(The Daiyoukai Enlightens. Ask)

[headstrongblake]

[ SHOULDER ]: sender presses a tender kiss to the receiver’s shoulder while spooning. /kass&nick / @thewholecrew

this december everything's different, and yet, too much of the same. a heaviness weighs nick's shoulders down, that ugly dark cloud looming as the snow settles once more. too much death encompasses this month but perhaps more than anything, the mere thought that they could have all lost kassy keeps nick restless. even as he slips out of his boots at the door, exhaustion evident in his slowed movements and darkened circles beneath his eyes. he could have lost her by being nearly too late.

it's late, but he finds kassy in more or less the same spot he has since she moved into his home. especially when she waits up for him at night. moving here had been for her safety he had said. just until she finds somewhere else. some new building that could offer her a fresh start after her vile stalker made hers out of the question. but a small part had hoped with having kassy by his side, just like after the kidnapping, he'd be able to find moments of peace. with kassy, there are some without question. but this month makes everything harder, even as he tries to put it all aside. lock it away in a box for another time because kassy is where his focus should be.

"you look as beautiful as you do tired," nick said, offering her his hand and a tired smirk that paled in comparison to his usual demeanour. "did i wake you?" the question comes out like second nature, despite the same answer he gets every time. a part of him waiting for the night she feels safe enough again to be asleep by the time he comes home from the club.

like a well-rehearsed routine he's fallen into with kassy around these past few weeks, he lets her lead the way to his bedroom while he follows behind, locking and ensuring the house is secure before retreating into the master room with her. for a while he disappears into the ensuite to ready himself for bed against all the aching muscles in his body that scream at him to simply collapse in the sheets.

after slipping into joggers and discarding his shirt in the bin, nick eagerly sunk into his bed. every day there seems something in his home changes ( even though kassy had decorated his home to begin with ) and as he wraps his arms around a newly added pillow, burying his face against it, tonight he appreciates all her added touches. her light touch against his bare skin as her arms smoothed around him sent delightful shivers across his skin. god, he wants tonight to be one of the nights he's allowed peace. she's safe, he thinks, breathing in kassy's jasmine shampoo. her body presses against his and her arms are coiled around him keeping them together. she's safe, he reminds himself as he lets out his breath.

nick fights the urge to turn to her, to cast his tired gaze over her so she's the very last memory he has as he drifts off to sleep because maybe then her light will break through all the darkness his mind threatens to drown him with. but kassy counters, doing one better. her soft lips pressed against his shoulder as her steady breaths lingered there. "g'night sweetheart," he murmured in the dark, his hand wrapping around hers as he brought it up to his lips. after pressing a quick kiss near her thumb, he relaxed into the pillow once more, keeping her close with her hand hugged to his chest. both of them clinging to each other protectively.

as nick slowly drifted towards sleep, the last thought that circled his mind was; how was he ever supposed to watch her move out?

#thewholecrew #pv. all american #( & college first year)

[s-talking]

Sakuyoru is in the process of leaving for work. With Amaryllis camping the door atop the couch to see her off. The black jacket being pulled over her torso with her phone pocketed. It's very baggy, intentionally bought 3 sizes too large for her small frame, but it hugs her well and could pass for a short dress.

Before she grabs her bag, though, she saunters back into the main room toward the only other person in the home. Her beloved, questionable little killer. She fusses with his hair, straightening it up for him, but keeping the iconic veil in place. Soft pale thumbs caress his cheeks before coming upon his shoulders, so that she can reach that extra few inches to press a rosy kiss upon his alabaster skin. Leaving an all-too perfect mark in dark red-violet, almost like blood, with a touch of pink. It adds color to him where there is none, and that's how she likes to mark him.

"Be good for me today?" she asks with a head tilt, not expecting him to be 'good' whatever that means in his vocabulary. Just not to be too... violent. At least not when she's absent, needing to always hover to ensure he's safe – even when he's being his murder-y self. "You can come with me if you want, I'll just be potting in the nursery, and you'll look unbearably cute in the apron if you do... I'll only be gone a few hours."

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐔𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋. the last few weeks were like a prelude to a pandemonium, with countless days & nights lost to preparations & most turbulent form of research, covering every wall of envy's new bedroom in hundreds of notes, documents, crude sketches, & photographs, as well as a single red string that binds them all together. it was a perfect spectacle of his thoughts, of the murderous intent & madness hiding inside. there's just one thing that is still missing, a certain key, the very last yet most crucial piece of it all; a passport. without it, envy might as well stay in america & count sheep, for nobody passes the border empty-handed.

oh, whatever should he do? pacing back & forth around the room, the little killer bites onto his black nail. ❝ searching for a new doppelganger will take too long, the black market is out of the question. tsk... i need more time. time, time, time.... ❞ probing through every dark corner of his wicked mind, envy stops by the window & stares at the monochrome sky, the pale light pouring through lacy white curtain outlining his tall, svelte frame. ❝ maybe i should ask grandmother.... ❞

suddenly the old door creaks open, giving way to sakuyoru whom envy doesn't even hear. ❝ or maybe.... i.... ❞ until she touches him. ❝ . . . . . . ? ❞ ever so slowly turning around, giving an equally slow & shallow blink, the little stares at her with unfocused eyes, as though not actually seeing her in that very moment but something entirely different, the black nail still caught between his lips; would smuggling even work... ?

he is trapped in a whole new world entirely, it seems, following sakuyoru's movements with black eyes alone much like a snake caught in trance. it takes a good while, perhaps another minute or two, but that sweet & tender kiss is just what is needed for envy to finally return to her. ❝ oh... ❞ he flatters his dark lashes again, at long last releasing that poor tortured nail in order to catch the last of her softly spoken words, ❝ wait... ❞ he whispers, ❝ you're.... going? ❞

completely disregarding own bitter dilemmas ── as well as everything she just said ── the little killer scoffs with a smile & proceeds to wrap both strong arms around her waist, pulling her in. the muscular chest now practically in her face at this point but, envy could sincerely careless, canning his head a little in order to whisper warmly against her ear, ❝ hnn... but what if i say no? what then? ❞ a devilish smirk can be heard in those low, purring words. no regard for her work whatsoever.

#// sorry saku #i'm afraid you're not going anywhere ~ #🔪 ❝ ᵀʰᵉ ᶫᶦᵗᵗᶫᵉ ᵏᶦᶫᶫᵉʳ⋅⋅ ❞ {{ ;; ‘𝓔𝓷𝓿𝔂’ }}

[scorchedhearth]

Day. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

Lies | New Scars | Breathing through the Pain

“Andy, you coming?” Nile asks between pearls of laughter, tears in her eyes from how hard she’s shaking at the punchline of the story she’s just been telling. Joe has made sure to top their glasses as much as needed throughout the evening, only with the best of wine, and Nicky is already bringing sweet fruits to top off their meal to the patio, where mismatched chairs and benches and pillows will be waiting for them. “I’m not done grilling you about Russell yet,” she grins, and warmth spreads through Andy’s chest, tender fondness at the sight of Nile enjoying herself, feeling at ease with them.

“I know,” Andy answers with a discreet smile. “Go on, I’ll join you in a minute.” They put the rest of the dishes in the sink, lean back on the counter with arms crossed over their chest to watch her family standing across the table.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Nile mock threatens with a raised index, and Andy sees Joe’s bright smile as he watches the scene, Nicky’s small smirk tugging at his lips. This feels good, it feels right.

“Come on,” Joe presses her. “The tea’ll grow cold.”

“That would be a shame,” Nile agrees with a gentle huff, turns around and follows the two outside. The door rasps quietly against the tiles as they push it close behind them, and Andy let their shoulders drop in the sudden silence filling the room.

They’re under no illusion the others don’t know what’s going on, what they’re doing, but they’re still generous enough to leave the question unasked. Andy lets a slow breath out, an even slower in and grinds their teeth as pain shoots up their spine, down their thigh and through their knee. A bad fall on the latest mission, an even worse reception and they discovered the joy of messed up joints. Nile’s wording. That in addition to the large cuts over their ribs makes sitting for hours uncomfortable. They all know, they see the pain on their face, the fidgetting. They haven’t learned to hide it, especially not on prolonged periods, not when for so long bearing it for a few seconds was all they needed to do to get through their injuries.

After a few more steadying breaths, Andy turns around and opens the paper bag resting near the sink, fishes out the pills they bought just for her, what an honor. It’s a quick affair, swallowing them and leaning back on the cabinets once more.

It’s all still so new, the pain, the weariness, the slow healing and the scars. So many new scars in such a short time, enough to make Andy wonder what their body would look like if they’d kept all the scars they should have gotten during their long life. It would be a mangled piece of flesh, they think, no negative space between wounds. Every inch of her being, from skin to entrails and bones, had been touched by death and violence, thousands of hacked-off pieces held together by strings of veins and ligaments and shards of bones.

So many new scars in such a short time, the latest being a neat row of stitching, stretching from their scapula to her spine, courtesy of a particularly determined hired merc. The blade felt cold as it sliced skin open, colder when blood trickled down their back. The drive to the hospital had been challenging, weighted down by their worry.

Andy twists around to put the pills back in their bag and the range of movement causes yet another sharp pain to shoot up their side, where the cracked ribs haven’t healed over so well and that the remains of last night’s rain still poke at. A hand slips under their shirt to try and relieve the tension but before it can do so, fingers brush against another scar. The first scar of their last life.

The flat of their palm comes to rest on the rough circle that marks the shot Booker took, the bullet put into their body from behind, the cold, clinical fingers prodding and sewing them shut.

Andy hasn’t allowed themselves to think about it, and so they won’t, not tonight, not right now. But Booker’s absence is sorely noticed in nights like this one, when Andy, seated and warm, looks to their left and find the space empty, missing someone. Or when they fall back on old habits and yearn for a drink and some miserable companionship, for sad laughs and sadder eyes looking into their own. Eyes that see and understand, that they won’t see again.

The scar grates the skin of their palm, despite it being small and relatively clean according to Nile. It burns too, with the weight it bears. The first scar of their last life, and it’s a neat, small coin-like shape in paler skin at their back and a mess of tissue over their side, skin pulled back together by cold hands. The first time, it had been a blow on the head, and no one save for some kind of twisted fate pulled the skin back together. That, at least, had changed over seven milleniums of living.

Andy pulls the hand away and stares at their fingers, pale under the dimmed light of the room, already littered with new marks too, small cuts and abrasions left in the wake of their new life, of the fights they win and the everyday life labor, hot oil splashing their wrists before sharing the food and broken glass cutting their hand when they startled a Joe lost in his thoughts.

There’s another shard of laughter coming from outside, this time Nicky, smooth and deep, grounding, and Andy pull their shirt down, swipe one hand down the front before pulling themselves off the counter, unto their feet.

Their family is waiting for them. Waste not, want not, they think as they snag the half-empty bottle from the table and carry it to the patio, where the stars shine gently and the cool winds brush their faces. There’s still plenty of time to live.

#wt22 #tog #andromache the scythian

[yingyings]

@junshang​​​  sought:  47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver  .

❝   a  -  luo  !   ❞

𝚂𝙷𝙴   𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚂   ‘𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝚂𝙷𝙴  𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂,  voice  lilting  soft  and  clear,  a  clarity  bell  in  the  wake  of  her  worry.  footsteps  pad  light  and  quick  against  dark  soil,  lush  greens,  the  shadow  of  summer  hot  on  her  heels  as  warmth  falls  low  in  the  sky;  an  eventful  day,  a  boring  day.  she  was  no  stranger  to  luo  binghe’s  disappearances,  crammed  with  far  more  chores  than  she’d  ever  have  to  experience,  it  was  a  nuisance   —   it  heralded  a  sad  truth,  an  unfairness  she’d  never  known,  and  in  spite  of  it  she’d  tried  !  tried  to  offer  her  hand,  the  friendly  bump  of  her  shoulder  into  his  with  her  ever  quiet  hopes  of  making  him  laugh  (  it  worked  sometimes  !  sometimes,  she  held  onto  them  /  he  wasn’t  smiling  as  much  anymore  ...  ),  but  with  every  secret  virtue  the  pendulum  swung  and  she  was  caught.

𝙰  𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙵  𝙻𝙸𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳   𝚁𝙴𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙳  from  her  shizun,  a  sharp  warning,  and  in  the  wake  of  her  subdued  pleas,  a  lesser  punishment  (  surely  shizun  had  reasons  for  this,  he  was  shizun,  didn’t  he  care  ?  she  wanted  to  have  faith,  held  onto  it  childishly  ).  she  hadn’t  seen  luo  binghe  in  the  following  hours,  the  following  day,  only  brief  slithers  of  ever  familiar  curly  hair,  scuffed  uniform  a  stark  difference  from  her  own  shining  representation  of  qing  jing  peak,  and  the  dark  brown  of  wooden  logs   —   heavy,  she  remembered  the  last  time  she’d  helped,  they  hurt  her  arms  but  she  had  less  than  his.  

𝙸𝚃  𝚆𝙰𝚂  𝙰𝙽  𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙰𝙽𝚃  𝚂𝙰𝙳𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂,  she’d  huffed  in  ming  fan’s  face  the  next  he  approached  her,  stomped  off  with  an  annoyed  ‘  humph  ‘,  he’d  been  doing  that  a  lot,  she  didn’t  want  to  see  him  !  a  cloying  guilt  coats  her  chest,  loneliness  she  rarely  felt,  and  sadness  was  far  and  few  between,  as  the  prized  shijie  of  qing  jing  peak  she  was  beloved  by  many   —   but  many  was  near  nothing  when  she’d  seen  hide  nor  hair  of  her  best  friend,  and  for  a  brief  moment  she  wondered  if  it  was  her  fault.  where  are  you  a  -  luo  ?

𝚂𝚆𝙸𝙵𝚃  𝚃𝙾  𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙰𝙲𝙷  𝙸𝙽  𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙴𝚇𝙲𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃  she  barely  catches  the  panic  and  jerky  movements  as  she  slows  to  a  stumbling  stop.  joy  all  but  torn  from  her  at  the  sliver  of  red  rimming  his  eyes,  stiff  arms  jerkily  rubbing  at  his  eyes,  and  she  wants  to  pretend.  wants  to  act  as  if  she  hadn’t  seen  him  crying,  considers  it  for  a  moment,  but  she  can’t  help  herself;  she  never  had  been  great  at  control  (  when  was  the  last  time  she’d  seen  him  cry  ?  it  cuts  through  her  in  a  way  she’d  rarely  felt,  and  quietly  ...  she  wishes  he’d  hide  less  ).  with  a  trembling  lip  and  shy  fingers  she  leans  down,  stretches  out  an  arm  toward  him  just  shy  of  touching  him,  the  tips  of  her  fingers  barely  brushing  the  tattered  sleeve  of  his  arm.

❝   a  -  luo  ...   ❞

𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴  𝙸𝚂  𝙰  𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙴𝚃  𝙱𝙸𝚁𝙳  𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻,  tender  somberness  envelops  his  name,  and  she  wants  to  cry  (  but  she  doesn’t,  for  a  -  luo  she’d  be  strong  ).  without  waiting  for  an  invitation  she’s  careful  to  lower  herself,  back  pressed  against  an  ever  familiar  woodshed  cold  and  hard,  with  feet  tucked  under  her  and  delicate  fingers  tugging  at  the  edge  of  his  clothes.  hardly  pressing  but  she  wished  he’d  look  at  her  !  she  was  more  than  used  to  how  quick  his  attention  slipped  away  now,  so  lost  in  his  thoughts,  and  a  small  guilt  filled  her  every  time  she  nagged  at  him  to  notice  her  but  ...  she  could  take  being  ignored,  she  could  try  (  a  bittersweet  lie  ),  if  he  never  looked  at  her  again  though  ...  if  she  lost  her  best  friend,  what  would  she  do  ?

❝   ...  was  it  something  this  shijie  did  ?  i  missed  you,  a  -  luo  ...  can  we  fix  this  ?  this  shijie  will  try  to  be  better  ...  this  shijie  is  sorry,  a  -  luo  ...   ❞

#junshang #ask / tbt. #aheem heem wheempurr #u wanted angst? #i give u angst!!!!!!! #this could be set either.... before sy's transmigration or in #pidw main either works tm #anyways hi im hurting and uhHHHHHHHHHH #also take a shot every time she says a - luo #the best things come in 3s

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

#enjoy nasties #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #never knew i would have to make a tag like that but #here we are #gif not mine #credit to owner

[witch-hazels-musings]

Until you are safe

Warning: Vision Hunt Decree still in effect, kidnapped themes, reader grabbed by hair (Thoma), possessive themes (scara)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Albedo, Scara, Thoma, Zhongli

Albedo

The frosty chill of the mountain side was more than you could bear. Every time you thought you gained warmth it was ripped from your body by icy hands threatening to drive you insane. You shivered and wrapped your coat further around your body while you scowled against the frigid cold. 

Ahead of you stood Albedo who seemed indifferent to the temperature and while you were impressed that he knew how to handle this without any complaints, you were also irritated by the fact. He was barely wearing anything and here you were shivering under countless layers of cloth. 

He turned to tell you something but with the turbulent winds and nibbling frost against your ears, you didn’t understand a single word he said. Quickly, you forced your legs to move as you made your way to his side.

“W-w-what di-did you s-say?” Your chattering teeth made it hard, and painful, to speak but you did your best anyway. 

“We are nearly there, can you keep going?” He narrowed his eyes at you but you knew that was a common thing he did. It was unlikely to have any additional meaning behind it. 

“H-how f-f-f-ar?” 

“Just around the bend.” He rested the back of his hand against your cheek and somehow that made you shiver even more than the touch of frost. When you nodded and began to walk forward, he took up position behind you and directed you toward the camp. 

With the cave blocking out the wind, and several warming mechanisms already glowing, you stumbled your way in between them an the fire. Trembling hands extended toward the orange and yellow light while you watched the snow drip from your clothes. 

“I always h-hat-te this p-p-part.” You complained, shaking your head and shoulders to warm up the muscles. This wasn’t the first time you traveled to Dragonspine with Albedo, but each time you braved the conditions you recalled the promise you made yourself last time. Never again, well ... I guess that promise was made to be broken. 

“Here, this will help warm you.” He handed you a cup and immediately you caught the scent of fresh and soothing tea. The aroma itself perked you up and even though your fingers were still stiff, you graciously took the offering. Warmth seeped into your throat as the liquid carved a path down your esophagus and into the pit of your baron stomach. With a refreshing hum you smiled through the steam.  

“P-p-perfect. Thank-k y-you.” Another sip warmed your lips and tickled your nose but you didn’t dare stop. 

“This trip should be less strenuous than last time.” Albedo began, his back turned to you as he rummaged through the stacks of books. “Where did I place that ... perhaps it got caught in the wind, that would be unfortunate.” 

You giggled, eyes watching him meander and speak to himself all at the same time. He had a habit of doing it but it never bothered you, in fact it was comforting to hear his voice, stabilizing, grounding. 

“You ca-can head out. I’ll b-be fine here after I w-warm up-p.” The shivering had eased, but you still succumbed to the residual affects as your body began to shift from frozen to thawed. 

“No need, I can wait here for a while.” 

“Haha, that’s silly, g-go on ahead.” You took another sip of the cup and found yourself sad at the emptiness of it. That’s when a hand entered your field of vision and you watched Albedo walk toward a table, refill your drink, and return to your side. He offered it to you and when your fingers found the circumference his nestled against them.

“Until I know you are safe, I will be here.” His eyes held your own for a while as if waiting for your reaction, your response, and when you nodded he mimicked your action before slipping back toward the bookshelves and research table. 

You were glad he left you, because if he hadn’t you were sure the only way to cool down was to step beyond the barrier of the cave and into the never-ending snowstorm that protected Dragonspine. 

Scara

Being at the side of a Harbinger had it’s own trials. If it wasn’t the constant movement between assignments or the threats against your life, it was the loneliness which creeped in every single day. There were some Harbingers who left the life of love far outside of their reach: Signora, who vowed to never love again and instead put all her attention into fulfilling her duty, Childe, found love a difficult thing to ignore and did his best to keep what he cherished hidden behind closed doors. 

Scara, he never understood the meaning of the word until it crashed around him like a house crumbles into itself, and the way he kept his belongings safe was to have them near him at all times. It was far better to be under the watchful eyes of his competence than leave something so valuable in the hands of another. So, here you were, following him around and staying hidden until he called for you. 

-- 

The room was empty, absent of all the things you would have normally kept to make this place more homey. If you could get away with it, you’d have made some changes to the décor, but the problem with never settling in one place for long made this desire of yours difficult to accomplish. It wasn’t feasible, you thought to yourself  but that didn’t stop you from adding a bit of comfort when you could. 

The night came and went without issue and after you prepared yourself for bed you wondered where your lover was. Was he succeeding, was he accomplishing his goals, would he return to you tonight or would you wake up alone yet again. Luckily for you, you had learn to be patient. 

Your dreams kept you occupied but there seemed to be something about them that pulled you toward consciousness, a subtle wish drifting across your imagines to wake up. 

Something brushed across your cheek, but was it the dream or reality, you couldn’t tell. Gravity pulled you close to something sturdy, but was it a creation of your imagination or the real thing - why was this so challenging. When your eyes finally opened and adjusted to the light of the room, you realized what had been calling to you. 

���Scara?” You pulled your hand down from behind the pillow, the muscles tense from being locked into that position for so long. “What has-” 

“Go back to sleep.” He spoke and the sound of his voice pulled you closer to him. 

“Is everything okay?” You continued your question as if what he said was never uttered, your eyes trying to find the outline of his frame while your skin adjusted to his touch. 

“Nothing to concern yourself with, just sleep.” 

“But, why are you here?

“I don’t recall needing your permission to do anything.” His words may have been direct, but you could sense there was something else behind them. 

“... would you ... like to come to bed?” 

“I can’t.” He adjusted and you felt the warmth of the blankets cover more of your exposed skin. The chill of the evening became blocked by the sheets and you hummed in response. You were confused, but the feeling of his hand running along your neck, your jaw, and into your hair made all the questions you had disappear. Moments like these brought out something completely different in the Harbinger and you wondered why he treated you so differently. 

With a yawn, you turned into his touch, lips finding the palm of his hand easily and placing a tender kiss against his skin. “You don’t need to stay if you have work to do. I’ll be fine.” You hummed again as he thumb ran over your lips and the gentle pull of sleep began to find you. It was quiet for a while and you focused on the warmth, the closeness, the comfort he provided until you practically melted into the bed. 

“I can’t do that either.” Scara whispered, hand pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer to your face. “Not until you are safe,” He breathed in your scent, gazing down at your trusting form beneath him. “Even from me.” He spoke as his fingers curled into the sheets and before he lost himself in you, he slipped from your bedroom and made his way down the hall. 

Thoma

He ran so fast as soon as the news reached him. The weight of his feet as he dashed through the countryside grew with every passing second but there was nothing more painful than his clenching heart and anxious thoughts. 

What have they done, am I to late, please don’t be too late. He wracked his brain over and over again, blamed himself for the stupidity of leaving you. If he had been there would the outcome be different? If he had stayed, would he have been able to fend off their attack enough to get you to safety. How foolish of him for thinking they wouldn’t use dirty tricks like this to accomplish their goals. 

Rumors and intel began to swirl like wildfire and at this point he couldn’t differentiate the accuracy of it all. There was one thing he knew for certain, the vision hunters had you and he was going to get you back. 

-- 

Their campsite was simple and you wondered if they would really be able to escort all of these prisoners back to the city on their own. They were intimidating enough to keep most insurrection at bay, but you were not about to let them get away with this. After a quick analysis of your surroundings, you found a few potential options worth trying, now it was only a matter of timing. 

“You won’t get away with this!” Someone shouted next to you and you patiently waited for an opportunity. 

“Shut up.” A soldier barked, his dismissive attitude apparent from the lack of eye contact and the wave of his hand. 

“This is wrong and you know it! Do you think you’re immune to the decree, when the day come to hand over your vision will you?!” 

The soldier turned and made his way through the trembling captured, you used the scuffling of those trying to get out of his way as an excuse to move closer to your escape. The dirt scraped against your bound hands and pulled at your clothes, but you didn’t care because each inch you gained the closer you got to freedom. 

You watched the soldier lift the woman from the ground, his impressive height apparent as she dangled above the well worn soil. “I will do what is necessary for the Raiden Shogun. I am bound by honor, unlike the resistance.” 

“Honor! You know nothing of it. Put me down you brute.” She spat in his face and he reacted in kind. You hated the fact that you were using her as your distraction, but hopefully if this all worked out in the end freedom would be enough compensation for her bruised face. Your fingers brushed against a metal handle, the sword you were aiming for had been reached and you quickly worked to get yourself free from the bindings.

The loosening rope told you of your success but when your hand wrapped around the hilt of the weapon and you moved to stand, a sudden pain against your head made your vision go blurry. 

“What do you think you are doing?!” Shouted a voice near your ear. They were so loud that you shrunk away from it only to be yanked right back. “You think you could take on all of us? Are you stupid.” 

“I didn’t think so.” You wheezed, blinking harshly to try and bring your vision back to clarity. 

“Well let me help you understand.” He drug you away from the group but before you could take but a few steps, an intense groan blasted it’s way near you and the hand that held your hair fell away in an instant. 

“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked, hands finding your waist to steady you. It was like your eyes snapped back on because as soon as you turned your head, you found Thoma standing their with an expression you’d never seen before: fury. 

“I’m - ouch - okay.” You whispered and then you realized the implications of him being there. Turning, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed against him, your voice turned tense as you shouted. “Ge-get out of here! What if they catch you!?” 

“I’m not leaving.” 

“Thoma!” 

He looked down at you, his arm tightening around you and you swore the world shifted red and the screaming soldiers shouts became muffled. “Until I know you are safe, I’m not leaving.” He looked forward and the glint of his polearm caught your attention. “Now hold on, okay.” 

The dry landscape turned into a wildfire until only what Thoma wanted to remain, remained. 

Zhongli

“This is very kind of you, Zhongli. To walk me home.” You chuckled, gazing up at him as you made your way down the path and toward the city. It wasn’t uncommon for Zhongli to escort you from place to place, but tonight you would have assumed he would stay on the Pearl and continue his lively conversation. 

“It is no trouble at all, to allow you to walk by yourself would not sit well with me.” Zhongli commented matter-of-factly, his eyes closing as he nodded his head and gazed up toward the stars. 

“You were having such a nice time, know that I didn’t mean to bring that too a close.” You scratched your forehead and adjusted your clothes after climbing the stairs from the docks. It was a rather pleasant night, but it usually was in Liyue this time of year. 

“I would never insinuate you had ill intentions. I made this decision on my own, to escort you is no trouble at all.” 

“Yes, well, that’s very kind of you Zhongli.” The lights of the festival swayed in the wind. To you they looked like fireflies in the sky, but that was such a silly thought you kept it to yourself. “I think I can manage on my own, if you want to go back?” 

“Nonsense, I will stay until I know you are safe.” He glanced down at you and offered you a smile, one that spoke true and gave you the impression of ‘I will not be swayed.’ 

“Well, thank you.” You turned away from him in hopes that he wouldn’t notice the embarrassment you were sure shined in your eyes and flashed across your expression. How can someone so regal find your company enjoyable at all - but Zhongli was so kind to anyone you fought against your better judgement to believe this gesture was more than common courtesy of a gentleman.

“It is my pleasure. Did you have an enjoyable time?” He asked, head examining the city streets and decorations as you had earlier. 

“Oh yes! Thank you for inviting me, I’ve never attended something so high class.” You fussed at your outfit again, it was apparent you weren’t used to wearing something like this but you did your best to fit in and not insult the guest who invited you to join him. 

“I am delighted to hear. It is far better to enjoy ones time when in company you relish, don’t you agree?” 

“Absolutely!” For a while, the two of you discussed the highlights and lowlights of the gathering. The sound of your laughter and excitement caught the attention of late night patrons, but you didn’t mind because it also caught the attention of the one you wanted the most. 

It wasn’t until you neared your home that the conversation began to drift. Your heart was sad that the night was coming to a close but responsibilities held you to a tight schedule, even if you felt the itch to break them. 

“Thank you again, Zhongli. This night will be one I remember for a while.” Your nails had received a break all evening, but, now that you were about to be alone, they felt the dig of your nervous habits once again. 

“It was my pleasure, it is always a gift to spend the evening with you.” He bowed, his long hair slipping over his shoulder at the motion. 

“I tend to agree with you.” Chuckling, you moved to unlock your door and when you looked back to Zhongli, his face was illuminated by the sparkling lanterns and yellow glow of the city. No matter what he did he radiated colors you’d never fully understand. 

“Liyue has many festivals,” He began, his tone wistful, “though I must say the ones where lanterns adorn the city are my favorite. Do you not think they look like fireflies in the distance?” He asked, gazing up at a few that dangled across the bridges and walkways that lined the city. 

“Yeah, actually I do.” You whispered as your eyes fell onto the man you loved so much it hurt to look at him, but, if it meant you could capture even a hint of his existence in your memory, you would happily suffer this pain. 

#hazels dreamland #genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin impact thoma #thoma #genshin thoma #thoma x reader #Zhongli X reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli

[traekenimagines]

Hunting Season, Unseen: A Theo Raeken Imagine

So below the cut, there will some parts of Hunting Season that didn’t quite make it to full imagines. There will be a heading above each snippet so you can skip past anything you don’t want to read, but to warn you guys, I’m just going to provide a list here of what to expect:

Mutual Masturbation, Tit-fucking, Over-stimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Come-play, Anal/Ass-play, Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-fucking,Thigh-riding, and some other bog-standard smutty stuff. 

Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x 

Mutual Masturbation

Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off Theo’s hand pumping at his cock, couldn’t stop listening to the moans that escaped his mouth. The sight only spurred her on as she curled her fingers inside her core, picturing it was him doing this to her as her teeth found her bottom lip. “Fuck Theo, I’m going to come.”

She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t far off, his movements speeding up as he worked at himself. There was a knot building in her stomach, and she slid her fingers out of her core as it unravelled, letting the essence of her release drip down her legs. 

At the sight of her, Theo swore, growling as his cock twitched and he came in his hand. Both were breathless, both aroused only by the sight of the other coming undone, fucking themselves with as much vigour as they would had they been doing those things to each other. 

Y/N lay back on the bed and listened to the sound of Theo’s footsteps as he made his way over to her. She spread her legs, eyes closed in bliss as she felt his cock at her entrance. 

Tit-Fucking

Y/N circled her nipples with her thumbs as she held them against Theo’s cock, the chimera fucking the valley between her breasts as if it were her core. She was wet, soaked at her core at the image before her, and she couldn’t wait until that cock was buried deep inside of her. But she could feel the tip of Theo’s cock against her neck as he fucked her tits, her nipples hardening with each hiss of breath he let escape. 

“Are you going to come, baby? Are you going to come all over my tits?” She could feel him hardening, wanted him to have his release anywhere he liked. “Come all over me baby.”

Theo’s cock slipped from between Y/N’s breasts, his hand wrapping around it before he pumped it a few times. Y/N giggled as his release landed on her breasts, the warmth of it familiar. Her nipples were still hard, something Theo had clearly noted as he leaned down, mouth enveloping each as he cleaned her with his tongue. Y/N moaned, a sound that only intensified when Theo kissed her, and she could taste him on her tongue. 

She had done that to him, and it was power unlike anything she had ever felt. 

Over-Stimulation

“You’re so fucking sensitive, princess.” 

If Y/N had been able to talk, she would have told Theo that the reason she was so sensitive was because of him. She’d had his fingers inside of her, his tongue, every toy they owned, some she didn’t even remember buying. And he hadn’t let her come. 

She knew all it would take was for him to thrust his cock into her and she would explode. It was bad enough trying to hold it in now as his fingers brushed over her tender folds, her core pulsing with the need to come. But as it was, she couldn’t talk, so just whined, bucking her hips against his hands. 

“So fucking sensitive.” Theo chuckled. He shifted, positioning his cock at her entrance. Y/N opened her legs wider, and Theo seized an opportunity. “Tell me how much you need it, Y/N. Beg for it.”

“Please, Theo.” She shifted. “Just give it to me. Just fuck me. I’m so fucking sensitive, and I need your fucking cock inside of me.”

When the tip of Theo’s cock entered her, Y/N lost the ability to breathe. She could feel her wetness growing, could feel the product of an early release pulse from her core. She arched her back as he entered her to the hilt, screaming when she finally let go. 

Multiple Orgasms

“That’s it, baby. Just let go.” Theo was on his knees, Y/N on his lap, slowly moving herself up and down his cock. He had already come inside of her, his hand on the small of her back, his lips on her neck. He could feel her hands on the back of his neck, and he leaned up and kissed her as she continued to move. 

She had followed not long after her, and Theo had expected her to climb off him. But she had stayed, continuing to move. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he came again too, but he didn’t care. Not when all he wanted was for Y/N to find her satisfaction. 

“Need more of you,” she mumbled against his lips. “Need your cock in me all the time.”

“I know, baby, I know.” Theo sucked on her tongue, and felt Y/N’s grip on the back of his neck tighten. “Come on, Y/N. It’s okay.” She clenched around him, head thrown back as she came over him again. And still she continued to move. 

“Are you - are you going to come again?” She asked him, words not coming too easily. “I want you to come again.” She sped up in her movements, rotating her hips around him. Theo felt himself tense. 

“I’m coming again, baby.” His release was accompanied by a sloppy kiss, before he mouthed at Y/N’s cheek, tasting the sweat that had gathered on her skin. He looked up at her, and she was smiling. “How was that?”

“So,” she moaned between words, the sign of another release building, “so good. You’re so good.”

“And so are you, baby. So are you.”

Come-Play

Y/N stood, and Theo smirked as he saw how shaky she was. He had done that to her, had fucked her hard just like last time. He had promised her that she wouldn’t be able to walk, that she would stink of him and would have a hard time hiding it from her friends. 

He could see his come dripping down her legs, expecting her to wipe it away, expecting her to throw a hateful glare at him as she had the last time. But instead, it was if she hadn’t even noticed it, noticed him, and it bugged him. So he climbed across the bed, and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

She tensed at his touch, at the two fingers that slid up the inside of her thigh. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” Theo’s teeth caught her earlobe as he trailed his fingers through the line of his come, rubbing it back into her core. She leaned back into him, moaning. “Does that feel good, Y/N? Having my come in you? Taste it, taste my come and yours together.”

Y/N took his two fingers into her mouth, and Theo almost lost his nerve. Before he showed any sign of weakness, he removed his fingers, letting Y/N speak. “Tastes so good. I love your come, Theo. I want it all over me.”

Theo smirked. “Well, that can be arranged.”

Anal/Ass-Play

Y/N was on all fours, waiting eagerly for whatever Theo was going to do. She moaned as he spread her ass cheeks, muttering to her about all the plans he had for her. She whined when, without warning, he thrust her finger into her asshole, curling it inside of her. “God, this is tight, Y/N. I think we might have to loosen this up a little.”

He replaced his finger with his tongue, swirling it around. Y/N could feel the wetness from her core growing, knowing that it would have to wait. Theo would fuck her somewhere else first, and she looked forward to it. She pressed her ass against his face as Theo continued to eat at her hole, his mouth enveloping over it. She felt desperate for him, for this something new, to arrive, and let out a squeal as Theo drew his face back from her. 

“You ready for this baby?” He placed one hand on the small of her back, the other positioning his cock at the entrance of her ass. The tip brushed her ever so slightly, and Y/N let out a breathy yes. 

Her eyes watered when Theo entered her. He was so big, and she so tight. But as Theo stretched her out, she found herself finding the pleasure beyond the pain, and it wasn’t long before she was screaming in delight. 

“I’m going to come Y/N, I’m going to come in your ass.” Gone was Theo’s tenderness, his concern. His animalistic desire was only present and Y/N couldn’t contain her glee when she felt his release in her. When it was over, Theo rested his head against the small of her back, pressing a kiss against a tender ass cheek. 

Mutual Oral Giving and Receiving/Mouth-Fucking

Y/N was so peaceful when she slept, Theo decided. But he was bored, and he wanted her awake. It was only natural then, that he lay on his side, head at her legs. He move them apart gently, revealing her bare core to him. She shifted slightly as he licked up the centre of her folds, and he smirked against her when she moaned. 

She was waking up, slowly, and in the best possible way. Theo set to work, properly this time. 

He lapped at her core, taking her clit into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement, but didn’t acknowledge Y/N yet. He would do so with arrogance when she came, he would do so - oh. 

Y/N was certainly awake. Theo knew that much with his cock in her mouth. With each bob of her head as she took him whole, Theo pushed his tongue in and out of her core, her wetness making his erection grow. 

He could feel himself on the edge of release, could feel that Y/N was there too. The peaceful morning atmosphere was soon shattered by the orgasmic cries of the two, each with their lips coated in the essence of the other. Theo lifted his head, looked at Y/N with her head still by his cock. She kissed the tip of it. “Good morning.”

Thigh-Riding

The feel of Theo’s jeans beneath her core was too much for Y/N. He had turned down sex, claiming that he was too busy, so she had taken things into her own hands, not giving him the chance to complain when she straddled his leg, naked, in the hope that he would fuck her. 

Instead, he had told her to get herself off, so she chose to do exactly that. 

As she moved against him, she could see the outline of Theo’s erection against the material. But he was still choosing to ignore her, pretending as if she wasn’t even there. So she moaned louder as she rode his thigh, moving faster, hand accidentally brushing his cock. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Theo’s hands flew to his jeans, and Y/N smirked as he unbuttoned them and pulled his cock out. She got the hint, moving from his thigh, denim coated in her essence and sunk onto him. 

Now this, this was what she wanted. And as Theo fucked her, she knew it was worth the wait. 

And Finally...

Theo’s lips were at Y/N’s cheek, his hand on her neck. They were both on their knees, and Y/N wrapped her hand around to tangle in Theo’s hair as he thrust into her. Neither could speak, all dirty talk having fled from their minds. 

It had been a long time since they had been together like this, Theo having come back from the dead only recently. It had taken a matter of moments to rid each other of clothing, to tumble back into bed, each of their movements meaning the same thing. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Y/N had forgotten what it felt like to be with Theo, to have his cock buried inside her, stretching her out, making her feel a release unlike any other. She moaned as he thrust into her from behind, his grip on her neck tightening ever so slightly. Theo regained his breath just so to talk to her, his lips against her cheek. “Does that feel good, princess? I missed you so much, Y/N.”

“So good, don’t ever leave me again.” 

Theo’s cock tensed inside of her, and Y/N joined him as the two reached their satisfaction. 

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of doing so. I love you, Y/N.”

Hunting Season Masterlist

Masterlist

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf smut #teen wolf imagine #theo raeken #theo raeken imagines #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken smut #theo raeken x reader #cody christian #hunting season

[holdyourwine]

Goddess, Have You Forgotten Yourself?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ featuring Poseidon, and more of his voice in conversation

YOUR FONDNESS, LORD POSEIDON ; masterlist

(.n) A concern which lies within the heart of hers slowly swims to its surface, not even when her skin caresses the sea God’s strong shoulders ; or may the distress can dissolve with more touches of her husband.

“Dear, my dearest, sweet Poseidon.”

Her light-feather touch leaves a lingering trace to his marble, fair skin ; as what gives the mighty sea God a fiery sensation that tastes so sweet, so addictive. With his darling seated prettily upon his thighs, his ocean eyes stare into her smaller figure, watching how she drags her hand to his face. That thin-pursued lips of his remain still, even as she cradles him gently, with her soft fingers, grazing his cheekbones. Poseidon never says he does prefer this kind of welcoming affection in one of those days of him, having to go out for days to attend some of God's councils ; which can be seen from the fabric that wraps his body is not the usual one but instead his formal white suit.

“Stop. That is disgusting.” He spits out upon the pet names that left her lips seconds prior ; trying to deny the peculiar feeling that builds up within his stomach up to his chest every time his sweet darling touches him, or even just makes a presence before him. For hundreds of years have passed in their matrimony, the sea God never once gets to tolerate the smitten sense his heart gives— or maybe, he accepts it but tongue not.

A downward curve etches itself upon her ripe lips, before the sparkles once again shine within her irises ; body leans forward to plant a small kiss for his nose, to only be answered with a crease that falls to his forehead— but can not he deny? the sweet Goddess still catches the sight of how rosy hue rises within his fair cheeks! As what those eyes of hers had glanced give its impetus to his darling, she lets her lips peppering affection more to his face.

His hand grips her waist, a very difference can be seen as for how large his palm is to her curve ; pulling his dear wife’s lower body to him as the sea God never admits he does enjoy the intimacy. It is one of these days the couple rarely have due to the business as the main pillar of the Greek pantheon, and she will be glad enough to spare her time with whatever the tasks waiting in her desk if she ever finds her busy husband shows himself before her ; to tell how she is longing for the ticklish feeling upon her lower stomach, rises to her heart as making her body numb because of the sweetness they share.

A drop that Poseidon feels as his wife puts their faces in distance again soon brings another halt to him, with the little snuggle from her breaks his sense ; how her cheek kisses his other one, rubbing the skin against skin softly with so much tenderness within it, followed with a small hum airing the atmosphere of the throne chamber as she rests her chin upon his shoulder— delicately wrapping her arms around his neck to find her own comfort in her husband’s touch. “Will you care to join me do my painting?”

Poseidon puts his lips upon her shoulder, inhaling sweetly the mixture of her scent and seasalt ; which he is pleased enough to know his darling unconsciously brings his nature smell around. “Did my brother ask you again to paint him and his many childs again?”

So being out of himself, the sea God can not stop his own self as he gives a very small gesture of snuggle as her strands of hairs inviting him with its scent, pushing Poseidon to give her a chaste kiss on her skin. His darling lets out a small head movement of disagreement, as her hand finds itself between his blond locks, caressing him softly while she herself enjoys the softness of his strands.

“Wrong. I myself want to spend an afternoon with my canvas on the shore— not so, though, simply intending to be in your sea if you have not come home hours ago.” Says she, which Poseidon can hear a slight happiness trailing the words.

“Then?”

Breasts to breasts untouched, ocean irises meet her other ones as she removes her hold upon his body with a sudden movement ; which pulls a tiny dissatisfied grunt from the God’s lips. Her hands running along his shoulders, to stop for seconds down to his biceps, before those subtle hands pull his other ones within her hold— bringing his warm hands to her lips, for her to plant another affectionate kiss atop of his thick fingers. “Please accompany me, husband. I have not yet wanted to part with you again.”

A puff of breath leaves his lips, sapphires in disguise as those eyelids flutter down close. “What a clingy.”

His thumb grazes the lower lip of hers, earning a small chuckle from her as she leans to his palm soon as he places one hand upon her cheek. “I assume, it is a Yes?”

“No. You have to lower your expectations.” Despite the bitterness attached in his words, the soft tone tells her otherwise.

“Wha— dear? Am I not appealing enough to make you stay in my company?” Such a jest that her tongue lets out, as she straightens her body to show more of her frame to her husband ; sweet and petite frame atop of his, in a seductive manner.

His stoic remains still, with dead blue eyes that shine in light his wife only can see ; glancing down to where her lower part touches his thighs, and back to that sweet smile upon her lips. Poseidon lets out a grumble as he wraps his arm around her back, another one slipping to her back thighs before he stands with his firm feet— pulling a small yelp and hastily embraces his neck. “I was just playing.”

Eyes go wide, she moves her body away from him as she rests her hands upon his shoulders ; the usual way of Poseidon to carry his wife around the palace is always being something so sweet to her, not only because she gets to see this side of him, she also cherishes the closeness— she always enjoys every touch from her cold husband, though.

With a weird horror drawn within her face, her lips part open, “Were you— trying to joke?”

The eye roll he gives as answer does not satisfy her excitement upon discovering a new act of his. Yet, the sea God keeps walking out of the chamber, giving no slight care for the servants down in the hallway who seem astonished with the intimacy their lord can provide to his loved one. As she is about to snuggle close, he slightly throws her body in the air to adjust his grip, before he sends a glare to her. “You will shut your mouth.”

Many nods she gives him alongside a cheeky smile, she can not stop herself from embracing his blond head to her chest as she stares down to the marble tiles ; not knowing how far her husband already stepping, she only knows for seconds later what her eyes catch is not those white tiles instead the white sand of a beach. As she gives the sea God a small form of gratitude called a kiss, her feets meet the ground once again.

Head tilts to where the wind can not disarray those strands of hairs, her delicate hands divide the air as she lets those slender fingers dance, creating golden sparks that illuminates the lovely visage of hers before its light births what she needs— as a deity who is in not dream only, but also knack ; art, she sure has a remarkable stuffs that abide with her for each time she has to do what she is skilled in. The sea God watches in silence as those ocean eyes catch the sight of graceful transparent paint brush that has gold shimmers within, and the same transparent palette with unlimited boundary to create colors which no one ever discovered.

A smile she gives to her husband is enough to speak of the soft encouragement for him to just leave her be for a moment, as she brings another giant canvas and its easel. “I will be fast. You must know, it is also one of my ways to picture your greatness.”

Poseidon lets out a small hum, as he puts off the dress jacket and dress vest to reveal only his white shirt. The wild blow of sea wind will not stop caressing his silky fair hair, as his feet bring himself closer to the salt water, closer until its wetness cradles his skin. Whilst his dear wife gives all of her attention to the piece of painting, his God vision does its work ; securing the whole ocean that almost covers the entire part of the world, catching those noises made by sea creatures— dolphins and whales. Poseidon has that sweet spot within his stoicism for holding such fondness for animals that live in his sea.

No one can tell how many minutes have passed since they spoke, or when the Goddess’ brush first met the coarse texture of the canvas, but they can say an hour passes. Those shimmering eyes of hers glancing up, breaks the contact with the cool tone of her colors within the canvas as she stares at her husband’s magnificent figure ; knees down wrapped in the coldness of blue. A sweet curve rises upon her lips as the color that besmirches her brush turns yellow, as fair as Poseidon’s crown. The only paintings she ever drawn of him are only the one that has their portrait, displayed grandly in the main throne chamber of his palace, one with his dear brother ; Hades— which the God of the Underworld puts proudly upon his wall, and another one is for the whole family born from Rhea’s womb.

“Makes my mind wander, do you not think your elder brother and his wife are quite popular among mortal lives?” She breaks the silence.

“Hm, Hades and Persephone.”

His voice is consumed by the harsh wind yet his wife still manages to catch his words. “Sounds like a sweet fairytale for these ears.”

Those sapphire eyes of his moves to get a sight of her fluttering white satin fabric of her dress. Though the large canvas conceals her countenance from the sea God, Poseidon has not missed the slight bitterness within her tongue ; which only adding some kind of curiosity upon the tone for as long as he knows, his darling has tender part in her heart for the couple, close enough to place them as her parent figures.

“Will the mortals think the same about us, if ever man told the real tale?”

“You expect things from humans. What a foolish act.”

“It is not— like that, husband.”

Stepping out his feet from the water, white sand begins to stick itself upon his porcelain skin as he walks his way closer to the mixed blood Goddess. Soon as she realizes Poseidon can see her visage entirely, her hand slowly lets down her brush to the easel without daring her eyes to meet his menacing ones. Humans grow in era, she— no, every Gods watch the development of their beings ; and as these Gods know, their tale is told as a sweet mythology, some are tragic and gruesome. With the love she pours on books, she managed to read many writings about her own dearest father figure. To know, mortals know no name but Amphitrite who stands in eternity besides the mighty sea God ; Poseidon.

As for Poseidon himself, he puts no care for what humans down there do nor what they create. The God simply has his head set up high to rule the entire ocean, with his dear wife ; not even caring to announce who he is with to mortal lives which he claims has no benefit. Yet what he does not know— the Goddess who is benevolent enough to remain loyal to him for centuries, is a ghost to their ears. What a tragedy.

The sea God can clearly tell the pure genuine written within the sparkles of her eyes. “Their love is spectacular. As for I am keeping eternal adoration for them ever since.”

“I do not see any problem, then.” Feet drag him closer, Poseidon lets out a satisfied hum upon the sight of familiar gold locks ; very much in contrast with the cold palette smeared on her canvas.

“Will you? After you put any slight care upon what they said about you?” The wind consumes the dread etched within her tongue, as she looks up to meet her husband’s glorious orbs. “Such an unfaithful husband for— Amphitrite.”

The furrowed brows welcome her sight, as she knows Poseidon ; the words may sound like an insult. He truly holds awareness upon his loyalty, Gods need no betrayal, no? His ears were once heard the name Amphitrite, for she is the pretty much popular Nereid comes from Doris’ womb, but the sea God recognizes fully whose finger is wrapped in a gold ring that he kissed to seal his oath. “You sound unpleasant, wife.”

“I have no answer for that.”

“Pour your wish through the depths of your ocean, do so.”

“Declaring my place with the gift your golden blood had granted me? Shall not.”

She puts her attention back to the final of her piece— as not noticing those eyes of her husband fixate upon her small shoulders. Poseidon knows what he said, and sure his darling is aware with what he meant ; he has the Goddess within his realm, not for her very love and being, but what lies within her, the light that runs through her veins, simply whispering to the sea God that he embraces who is really made to fit in his cold arms— the authority upon which domain they rule. Dream, is inevitable. Is sucking you to its depths and spaciousness, enveloping you to the feeling of drowning in the salt water of Poseidon’s ocean.

It is no wonder why mortals draw her dreams as a part of Neptune’s domain in classic astrology.

The blue irises catch that scene of golden spark created from her fingertips consuming the pieces, illuminated by an orange hue that the sun has besmirches in the horizon. His dear wife etches a loving smile to him after she bends down to pick the shatter of his suit from the ground, simply voicing what she wants through the tenderness in her hold upon his hand. “We can not skip Proteus’ meals again, hm?”

A low scoff leaves his lips, as he tightens his grasp upon her smaller hand. The grand building of his palace is not hard to find its sight as for he, a ruler of all ocean, must be very fond of his sea to make him place his territory near the shore. The trail of their steps leaves its sign on the white sand, alongside the wind which kisses their skin, not strong enough to make that sweet smile vanishing from her lovely face. The Goddess simply looks like no matters bothering her, very hypocritical to what her heart felt minutes ago.

“What do you wish for?”

“Hm?” Her head looks up, tilting to meet his gaze due to the massive height difference between her and Poseidon. She is no stupid Goddess, she is pretty much aware of what her husband meant, yet she uses a distraction to rethink what she wants to say. “I wish for nothing. As long as my dear husband is pleased with my presence, with me, then we can make our own little fairytale that always leaves ecstasy to my liking.”

The little crack in the end of her sentences brings a twitch to the corner of his eye, feeling how that subtle skin of her hand wraps even tighter around his calloused, yet soft hand. “I wish to be with you, always. It is not very much a big wish, I suppose?”

Poseidon spits out a grunt as he now has consciousness over what humans think about him, yet he, a perfect being, will never have treason, let alone to the only person he ever lies his heart upon. His walk gets haste as he drags her hand within his hold, sending his regular menacing gaze to every maids and butlers they meet along the way to the dining room.

He has many things to do after the dinner, one of them is reprimanding the mortals for their disgraceful act upon him and his wife ; maybe a little earthquake is fine, which can destroy Amphitrite statue that stands beside his in every temples, or he can simply demand Morpheus to handle the message which lies within their dreams. Later on, he needs to bring the sweet Goddess’ confidence back, for she is no one but the queen of all oceans, who holds his hand in eternity.

Poseidon sure has many plans for the night, all for his darling wife.

[] nesi’s note ; uhh sorry like hhh i keep thinking, do i make him out of chara every time i finished a writing but whatever this, its sole purpose is to satisfy my yume so yeah. also hey give me his contents more, dont make me being all alone making writings for him 👁👄👁

#his silent beatitude #anthology: your fondness #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon x reader #poseidon ror #poseidon snv #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #ror poseidon #snv poseidon #ror poseidon x reader #poseidon snv x reader #poseidon ror x reader

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

Author’s note: hello my dears! Sorry for not updating the past few days. I travel a lot for work and the circumstances lately made it difficult for me to update as much as I wanted. Although I did get enough inspiration to write this chapter. I come back to you with some juicy lemony goodness ;)

Minors DNI

Warning: NSFW content, mildly non con at the beginning, emotional sex, hurt, comfort and angst.

X.

Blinding jealousy was the only thing that could describe how Satoru felt. Boiling in his blood, licking flames of rage through his body.

Betrayal… his best friend, holding his wife’s hand as he walked her back home. Not only that! Suguru went in with YOU! In your apartment! As if this was the most normal thing in the world!

Did you invite him to stay the night? Did you both plan this ahead of time?

Warping to the top of the building next to yours he continued to watch from his position as you turned on the lights in your apartment. Setting your bag on the counter, taking off your shoes and jacket. Suguru followed you in taking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen after you.

Gojo saw you both laughing and talking like you always did. You were at ease, immersed in your own world… completely forgetting about Satoru.

Did the kiss from last night mean nothing to you?

“What the fuck is going on?!” He groaned removing his blindfold; now fully observing and analyzing every single detail of what you two were doing using his six eyes.

Gojo didn’t want to miss a thing.

He focused on you, your reactions, the way you smiled, the way you acted, your heartbeat, the tone of your voice and… that bright and warm halo of happiness surrounding you while in Suguru’s presence; the same halo that last night was cold for Satoru. All of your smiles, all of your warmth and kindness were dedicated to Suguru.

Satoru’s frayed nerves and chaotic mind debated wether he should warp there and steal you away (… of course then proceed to fuck your into oblivion, fill you with his cum to the brim until you knew there was no other man for you other than your husband) OR keep watching and see how far you would go.

As angry as he was right then, he had to remind himself that Suguru and you had always been very close. It wasn’t uncommon for Geto fo visit you and have dinner with you to keep you company whenever Satoru wasn’t around due to his work or even have dinner together all three of you. This wasn’t ‘abnormal’ per say. The difference was that NOW you ‘thought’ you were not Satoru’s anymore (the operational word being ‘thought’)Geto’s presence never bothered him before… until now.

Taking a deep breath Satoru saw you walking towards your bedroom. His hands trembled in anticipation.

Were you going to sleep with Suguru?

He walked along the edge of his rooftop following your movements inside until you stopped in front of your room. Suguru moved closer to you and Satoru almost snapped. Lifting his hand to use his cursed technic against his best friend he saw how you both hugged and after you placed a kiss on his cheek you bid him goodnight. You pulled back and Satoru sighed in relieve but then Suguru was the one that leaned in and kissed your lips. Satoru was as shocked as you were but you managed to recover faster than he did since you returned Suguru’s embrace for what felt like an eternity. Finally when you separated, Geto and you exchanged a couple words and after another hug he walked out of your room closing the door behind him.

Satoru’s eyes had been open like saucers while the exchange took place, he released a breath he didn’t know have been holding. He saw you turn around and touch your lips with a blush on your cheeks.

He lost his fucking mind right then.

-

After coming back home Suguru and you talked about the latest shows you were watching and the movies you wanted to watch so you could catch up. A couple jokes about your gory tastes in movies and series after and you were both ready to turn in for the day.

“So! You wanna do a ‘The Walking Dead’ marathon?” You asked with a smirk “sure doll, we can do that tomorrow. You have the morning free right?” Asked Suguru. Sunday mornings were your ‘me’ time since your instructor didn’t work on Sundays “yes I do!” You answered with a big grin. You felt like a kid and the sensation filled you with happiness.

Now that Suguru was here you felt so different, as if you had been numb but now you could feel again.

A yawn cut your next sentence making Suguru chuckle “come on sleepy head, you and I are both whipped” you complied with a sleepy smile and walked down the hall.

Geto stopped in front of your room and gave you one of his characteristic big bear hugs. He was so tall and muscular, you felt surrounded by warmth and muscles everywhere. The fresh and crisp scent of his citrus cologne and detergent made your stomach do a little flip. The intimacy and trust you felt with him reminded you that you were not alone.

It had been easy to bury yourself physically and emotionally in your work but now that Suguru was with you, it reminded you that despite of how tough things got, you would always count on him.

Reluctantly you both pulled back, his Adam’s apple at eye level with you made you swallow. When you looked back into his eyes you found his trailing on your lips before they moved up to meet your e/c eyes.

There was a growing tension between the two of you, too strong and obvious to ignore.

Before, when you were with Satoru; Geto and you had ignored it but now there was nothing stopping either of you from acknowledging it. Sooner than anticipated your lips connected in a tender kiss. He was soft and kind, not demanding. He just wanted to comfort you but also let you know he wanted you, all in his sweet particular way.

You returned the kiss. It was inviting like a balm, it didn’t mean to mark and conquer but to soothe. His plump lips still tasted of wine. It made your mouth avid to taste more.

When you pulled away a blush covered your cheeks “good night Kitten” Suguru tells you with his deep baritone making a very pleasant tingling sensation run down your spine “good night Sugu” only then Geto leaves to go to his room across from yours.

The door closes behind you, all you can hear is your heart hammering away from within, you actually….enjoyed that kiss. It was so sweet, so tender… so soothing. Everything that Suguru was to you was poured in that single action. Touching your lips you start debating whether this was something good or something you should wait before pursuing.

Satoru didn’t sign your divorce, technically you were still married. Suguru didn’t deserve a half assed relationship with someone who doesn’t have her shit together.

You were still healing it was true, but… when Suguru kissed you, it made you feel safe…. Like you could let go and trust him.

Feeling guilty about it, you compared it to Satoru’s kiss from last night. It was impossible to deny there was still passion between you your husband and yourself. But then again physical intimacy was never the problem in your former relationship.

The thrill of the danger, of knowing nothing good would come out of it and despite it all your stubborn desire to immerse yourself in the ocean that was Gojo Satoru. Was what terrified you.

No… you couldn’t think about him that way. Not anymore.

With a sigh you decided it was time for bed. You turned around to head to the bathroom but your body connected with something hard and warm. Looking up you saw Satoru’s crystal blue eyes but before you could scream he covered your mouth with one hand while wrapping the other one around your waist. “Oh no no no no my love… none of that, we are not going to alert sweet Suguru about me, princess” the smirk that pulled at his lips made you shiver, it was predatory… maniac even.

Before your senses could register the change in the atmosphere you were warped away with Satoru. You screamed, but it was too late, you were not in your home anymore.

The lavish interiors of an elegant dim lit suite received you “what the fuck are you doing!?” You asked when he let you go, taking a step back breathing heavily “are you insane!?” You asked the white haired sorcerer who in answer only moved closer to you. The more you tried to get away the closer he got, until you were trapped between the wall and his towering 6’4 frame.

—

“Now princess…. Just what were you and Suguru doing?hmm?” He asked with a terrifying grin that poorly attempted to disguise his anger. Moving his hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Nothing of your concern!” You answered glaring at him, had he been spying on you? You tried to drop your body against the wall to escape from him but before you moved further than an inch down Satoru completely crushed your body with his “I am not done talking to you yet… my wife” he remarked making you ball your hands in fists. It annoyed and revolted you how he tried to use your ‘unfortunate’ marital status for leverage “I am your wife only on the paper… I don’t care what you think or say!” Satoru didn’t like your answer but his grin only broadened; grabbing your wrists and placing them on top of your head he held them with one of his large hands of dexterous fingers “you are right….” He started, giving you false hope “maybe it is time I remind you of your marital duties” your eyes opened wide but before you could attempt anything he kissed you. Fierce lips and teeth demanded your submission… this wasn’t a tender request… it was a display of dominance and possession.

You bit his lip trying to make him stop but Satoru took that as an invitation to grow bolder. His hand moved to your ‘V’ cut long sleeve top and ripped it right in the middle making you gasp; giving him the perfect opportunity to plunge his tongue in your mouth and intensify the kiss tenfold.

His free hand moved to your left breast squeezing the globe of warm flesh underneath. Groaning against your lips on approval, Satoru moved both his hands to your hips and using his inhuman strength he carried you across the room faster than you could tell and then threw you on the bed.

“Satoru… don’t do this! Are you mad?!” You asked in a trembling tone while scooting backwards on the bed in a miserable attempt at escaping him.

“Yes! I am! As a matter of fact… you are a good part of the reason why I am insane!” Grabbing one of your ankles he pulled you closer to him. Spreading your legs he laid on top of your body, giving you no chance to escape “SATORU STOP PLEASE!” You screamed but Satoru only focused on destroying the fabric of your jeans. He wanted all the obstacles between you to be gone! He wanted your clothes, your pain and Geto to be gone! So he could have you all to himself.

You tried to kick him but when you are struggling with the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his generation there was absolutely nothing your body could accomplish without his approval.

A part of yourself hated the fact that you were just as revolted as aroused at the moment. Was that combination even possible? On one hand you felt dirty because your husband was trying to force himself on you out of jealousy…. But on the other part… the dark and twisted one… you were aroused by his display of pure male dominance, by his suffocating desire to have you and only you.

It was hard to fight so many years of habit, of fantastic chemistry… of love.

You would have to be blind or stupid not to see that your husband had been obsessing over you since you left but….

What good could come out of it?

If you both gave into your primal desires and fucked each other’s brains out. Would that change anything about your broken and unhealthy marriage?

His hot mouth moved to your neck to nibble and suck on that spot right bellow your earlobe that he loved to abuse. A big bruising mark was left in place, but he wasn’t content with just that. He wanted to leave the brand of his desire painted on your skin, like a beacon for him and a warning for others.

As the minutes went by his attentions became less frantic, instead they turned more purposeful and tender.

You stopped moving altogether, not fighting him nor corresponding his affections and careful treatment of your body.

https://youtu.be/qfFOzQVKuMs

Satoru pulled back for a moment to see you…. Only then it hit him like a train.

What the fuck was he doing? He looked at you and saw the tear trails that dried on your cheeks. Your top ripped in half displaying the soft skin of your breasts only covered by a bra.

“Y/N…” he whispered looking into your eyes. He caressed your cheek “I’m sorry… love” he mumbled trembling. “I’m so sorry…” a sob broke through his lips.

Did he…..? Did he…. almost forced you to have sex with him? How far had he gone in his endeavor to get you back by any means necessary? The notion that he almost…. Raped his wife made him sick.

He cried like a child. Wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face against your naked stomach; kneeling on the floor before the bed he crumbled to pieces. Repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. He was horrified with himself; he had done many questionable things in his life but this… took the cake. It made him a piece of shit! He didn’t deserve you! You were too good for someone as tainted as him. The dread that revelation brought made him cry harder.

He realized his obsession had been a result of the fear he was unwilling to admit having. The terror that made his insides coil. The absolute horror of losing yet another person he loved.

The fear of loosing you.

He had always been alone since he was a child. Satoru didn’t share much of his past with you but the few things you knew was that he had become an orphan at a very young age. He had to mature rapidly to overcome the obstacles of being a kid with so much power in the middle of a corrupt and outdated world of magic and intrigue.

Gojo always felt lonely, despite of how much he liked to mess around with people and play pranks on everyone. But you… had been one of the very few who got to see through his perfectly built facade and tell him the truth.

The night he told you he loved you was after you decided to stay with him in his apartment. He didn’t say or do anything particularly obvious but you somehow knew he didn’t want to be alone. He kept trying to fill the space with playful banter but you shut him up by hugging him and holding him tightly saying he didn’t have to explain anything all. That you would always be there for him, no matter what. It had been on the anniversary of the death of his parents.

Somehow, your empathetic and loving nature blindly guided you to stay with him and allow THE Gojo Satoru to be just…. human in your arms.

-

As much as you wanted to hate him and resent him, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your heart ache for him. Unable to stop yourself you caressed his platinum locks while he held onto you and cried begging for your forgiveness over and over again.

When Satoru calmed down he removed his head from your lap slowly, you have been crying along with him. Your fates leaded you both exactly where you were at. Every decision and mistake carved this painful path you walked now.

Looking into your eyes he moved closer as if he was afraid to scare you away, his face stopped just an inch away from yours, giving you the chance to reject his advances but instead of doing that you closed the distance that separated you both. You lips met and melted together in a desperate kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, making him moan recognizing the intimate and passionate gesture he had missed for so long. He laid you back down again, climbing on top of you. His hands moving down to your waist in an attempt to feel you as close as possible, as if you were going to disappear in any moment.

Your legs wrapped around his waist when your tongues laced together and caressed each other; moans and sighs left your lips, filling Satoru’s ears and making his hands wander over the expanse of exposed skin.

Making him stand before you and between your legs his long sleeved black shirt was removed quickly, your admired his perfectly sculpted pale torso, this man has always been so… perfect; as if the gods themselves had decided to carve every inch of his person. Although, he did look skinnier, you knew he had not been really taking care of himself. The sight send a pang of pain to your heart. “Toru….” A little painful whisper abandoned your lips when you pulled him closer. Your mouth left a small path of kisses from his neck to the center of his chest, he gasped at the sweet and soothing action. Once more, your tenderness reminded him that he did not deserve you and yet he couldn’t come to make himself stop you. He needed you more than air to live.

Avid hands moved south of his stomach to undo his jeans and pull them down; a very vague part of your brain registered that you were now willingly doing this. Should you stop? Next to go were his boxers. He was standing naked in front of you.

His hardened cock stood between his legs with a small dribble of precum rolling down the reddened head.

He was an Adonis.

Looking into his eyes you saw the loving gaze laced with guilt in his cerulean orbs. You couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to.

He then helped you lay down to return the favor. His mouth kissed its way to the center of your breasts while his right hand undid your bra behind. Taking off the remains of your destroyed top along with your bra, next were the flimsy black lace panties that he rolled down your legs until you were fully naked before his eyes.

He was left speechless “you are so beautiful…” a goddess laid naked on his bed, with her inviting lips, glorious s/c skin, a halo of darker h/c hair around your head, perfect breasts and a pair of delectably shaped legs that he wanted wrapped around him.

How did he ever dare cheat on you? Not only your body was beautiful to him but your heart, you knew no boundaries when it came down to loving someone. You had given him everything and then some.

Kneeling before you he grabbed one of your legs and left kisses from the calf to the inner thigh. Placing it carefully over his shoulder he stopped for a moment to look in your eyes before his mouth delved between your thighs. He found your sweet pussy already wet and waiting for him to lavish his attentions. Like a starved man he licked your pussy, consuming everything you had to offer him. Your flavor coating his tongue made his stomach tight in delight, he recognized the addictive sweetness of your scent. Parting your lips with his tongue he penetrated your entrance with his tongue, going straight to the source. You screamed and he had to hold your hips so you wouldn’t pull away. He couldn’t let you go! Not now! Not ever!

Once he was satisfied he replaced his tongue with his fingers, pumping two digits in and out of your soaking entrance. His tongue looked for your clit and swirled around it, sucking at times and flicking at others. His reward were your screams, moans and sighs of pleasure. They were only for him and no one else.

“T… Toru… I’m gonna come”

“Come for me princess, give me all of you my love” Satoru asked quickly before his mouth returned to your slit and his thumb took care of the bundle of nerves at the top.

You screamed, arching your back when your orgasm washed over your body and completely overwhelmed your senses. Taking his time to taste and swallow your juices Satoru finally emerged from between your legs. Your eyes darkened with a desired that matched his.

Your arms inviting him to come closer encouraged him to lay on top of you after wiping his chin with his hands. Long legs surrounded his waist while you looked in each other’s eyes. “I love you…” he said at the same time he slid his cock inside you, slowly until he was fully sheathed and his balls slapped your ass, making you scream his name.

Satoru was not a small man by any means, taking all of his impressive length at once would have been impossible had he not prepared you beforehand. He knew it, so he moved slowly at the beginning, allowing you some time to adjust while he whispered sweet nothings on your ear.

The moment your legs pulled him closer and deeper he knew you were ready. Without a word he rocked his hips, retracting all the way until only the tip was left inside before he went all the way back in making you body jolt.

The rhythm was slow and purposeful at the beginning but as the minutes went by, the both of you became hungrier, more demanding, more… needy. Your hips met his thrust by thrust. The slapping of your skins intensified as did the moans.

Your tight and hot walls squeezed his cock so deliciously the man was having a tough time not behaving like an animal and rutting you through the mattress like a beast in heat. He wanted to show you he loved you.

He held both your hands in his, pushing them against the bed at both sides of your head. Looking into your eyes he moved deeper “I love you…” he said again and you couldn’t help but feel how the tears escaped your eyes “I love you too…” you admitted in a tiny voice that could barely be considered a whisper.

Satoru eliminated the distance between you both and kissed you, pouring his heart in that action. Your climax was close, he knew this so he angled his hips to continue pummeling your sweet spot while he drove you over the edge.

You came around his thick cock, your walls tightening around his member as if they never wanted go let go “I’m gonna come princess” he moaned and then with a few hard thrusts he spilled himself inside you, painting your walls with his cum.

Your worn out, sweaty bodies stayed still. Trying to recover. Satoru refused to remove himself from inside you.. Not yet, he wanted to savor this moment, the intimacy and the love he felt.

You didn’t protest, instead you did what you used to do back when you both were still together. Cradling his head between your breasts you stroked his hair, lulling you both to sleep.

Your last coherent though before sleep claimed you being… That once again… you fell for it.

Guilt settled in.

————-> Chapter 11

-

Tags:

@sleepyamaya

@cloudsinthecosmos

@jxvajxy

@satoruhooraaa

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

@thatsharklovingwoman

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@syynnaaah

@shaylove418

@coldvillainess

@vampgguk

@sukuna1stwife

@tampon-earrings

#jjkgojo #gojo angst #gojo x you #jjk #geto x y/n #gojo saturo x reader #jjk suguru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #softdomgojo #Youtube

[djarrex]

So I was wondering, how was rex and reader first kiss, and also the first time they’d slept together? I loved that story about how they met!! I’m genuinely curious

!!Yessssss :’)

Ok, so for anyone who hasn’t read their first meeting/first date, I’ll link it here. Previously, I had included a little bit of their first date in one of the main installments/chapters as a flashback scene during Priya’s birth and you can find that here.

Find the rest in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

I’ll pick this up from when they’re riding in the taxi on the way to reader’s apartment (from flashback scene found in second link)

18+ only! dry humping, heavy makeout sesh, groping, non-descriptive sex, piv sex, maybe just a hint of ‘first time’ awkwardness but... y’know. overall, Rex is a caring sweetheart. about 2.9k words #Carried Away

<<<>>>

The back of Rex’s hand, the gauntlet plate, that is, lands on your bare thigh - his gloved palm upright and waiting, fingers relaxed. You can’t help your wide smile that grows upon noticing the gesture accompanied by his unsure, yet confident expression as you gladly lay your hand within his - fingers locking into place. 

"Is... this okay?"

So considerate, appropriately cautious, cute.

You lock eyes with his, making it a point when your tongue barely darts out to wet your lower lip while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curl at the corners - a little chuckle seeping through his nostrils before turning his head to watch the streaks of lights fly by outside the transparisteel. The ride isn’t very long, but it’s nearly silent. It must be late enough for the driver to have long surpassed the point of wanting to engage in light conversation, thankfully so, and the music is turned down to the lowest volume - just light pulse of a beat coming from the tiny speaker. The whir of the vessel gliding through the air lanes hums throughout the interior, along with the heavy beat of your heart in your ears. Your fingers stay intertwined with Rex’s the entire time. At one point, briefly, his thumb started to absentmindedly brush back and forth over the thick knuckle of yours, and caught himself when the the taxi slowed to halt as it pulled in front of your complex.

Rex scoots out first - extending his hand towards you and helping you out of the seat and onto the duracrete. As you lean into the taxi’s opening to toss the driver some credits, Rex watches the way you move - the way even the miniscule muscles flex underneath your form-fitting dress and with the movement of what skin is exposed. A sudden breeze catches him off guard when that familiar scent of lavender coming from your hair hits him just like it did back on the dancefloor. His own heart is pounding uncontrollably beneath the protective shell of plastoid, though he’s sure you can hear it. Your hearts mirror one another’s tonight - anxious, eager, sure, ready. 

It's quiet after the taxi speeds off. It's late, and the two of you stand just outside the complex entrance in silence, facing one another and staring deep into each other's eyes. There’s a whole bunch being said, without any words actually being spoken. It’s insane the way Rex is just pulling you in without laying so much as a finger on you right now; his gravitational pull is far too strong for you to resist, not that you’re trying to resist. You want to get dragged into his orbit, burn up upon skirting through his atmosphere. That connection... it’s so noticeably there and it’s making your legs weak - weight settling in the back of your head, pushing you forward and closing the space between your faces. You know it’s affecting him just as it’s affecting you. There is no escape, though neither one of you is trying to flee. 

“Is... this o-” 

Rex is unable to echo his question from the taxi once the remaining space between the two of you quickly vanishes. When your lips meet his for the very first time, something just clicks - like two missing pieces from a puzzle that you didn’t even know were absent have just come together and completed it, effectively ending its drawn-out hiatus. You’re sure there are better analogies out there with deeper meaning but it’s hard to think with how wrapped up in him you’re becoming with something as simple as a ‘first kiss’. Your arms flying to wrap around his neck, Rex pulls you closer - his fingers gripping the fabric at your hips and holding you close. A heavy breath escapes from him and you take the opportunity to poke your tongue out to be immediately greeted by his own. It’s medium-paced; not desperate nor casual. The dance you share with the light clashing of teeth, the rhythm that’s set with every little movement of the muscles in your mouths - it’s just right. 

When you move to break away, panting, your eyes quickly dart to the building standing tall to the right of you before they quickly return to his. An overt cue... 

“Do you wan-”

...One of which Rex takes swift action.

“Yes.” Rex didn’t need for you to finish that line; he was already way ahead of you, and was somehow starting to believe you’d never ask. Any nerves of his have long since vanished, as well as any notion of sleep - other, more exciting things urging him on. He knows where he’ll be waking up in the morning, and it’s not on that bedroll in the barracks that he was practically dreaming of back at 79′s before he’d laid eyes on you. For once, the clone captain will allow himself to indulge in what this night holds. 

The two of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves during the brief ride in the lift up to your floor. Rex holds you impossibly close, hands pressed into your lower back and practically carrying your floating body through the corridors until arriving at your front door; you’d murmured the directions into his lips along the way. With your back pressed against it, your hand swings behind to blindly input the access code. After a few incorrect entries before hearing the musical awarded access, the door slides open, and your fingers wrap around the dip at the top of his cuirass - pulling him to follow you in. You make it as far as the couch, pushing him down to sit as you descend with him, your mouths staying connected in the process. Rex sinks into the cushions, and his hands begin rove your body experimentally from where you’re straddled over his armored lap. You’re melting into his touch, rocking yourself over the hardness of his codpiece, letting the curve of it rub into your clothed heat as his lips trail wet hot down your chin and jaw.

Never had you previously allowed a night like this to get as far with anyone else. 

“I don’t...” Rex pauses as soon as the words leave you - lifting from your neck and meeting your eyes with a flash of concern sinking in his own. “I don’t usually do this, uh, sort of thing,” you elaborate quickly, your hands gesturing to the current situation - nervous, for some odd reason, even though your mind is very made up. His expression softens and a sweet smile creeps on his lips as he traces your own with the pad of his now bare thumb - the touch featherlight, admiring. “I just- just thought I should clear that up.” You’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re clearing up; perhaps you’re afraid that Rex thinks you’re one of those clone groupies, a woman who frequents 79′s to show her appreciation for the brave soldiers of the Republic. Or maybe that you’re someone who often fucks on the first date, just to be casted aside in the morning or the one who does the casting aside. The look he’s giving you, though, as he gazes up at you with something within his eyes that you can’t yet translate, is leading you to believe that he doesn’t put you into any of those categories - didn’t, from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes against your jaw - the foreign-sounding word completely unknown to you but making you clench all the same - the shape of it forming on his lips and pressing into your tender skin. “The same goes for me. I... don’t wanna do anything that’ll scare you away.”

“And here I am thinking that I’m the one coming on too strong too fast,” you jest. Sure, it has only been a single, incomplete night of knowing him, but as silly and cliché as it sounds, it honest to Maker feels like you’ve known him forever. Normally, you’d conclude that allowing yourself to think that would more than likely end up biting you in the ass in the near future, but you truly don’t think that would be the case this time. Not with him.

“Rex...” Breaking from his lips for a breather and cradling the curve of his cheekbones within your hands, you look deep into his kind eyes, searching for the answer to the question you have yet to ask. “Have you ever...?”

“Yes, yes. It, uh, was always quick... when I did.” Rex chews his cheek - his brows pinching together in unwarranted contrition. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“For?”

“I don’t want you to think-”

You cut him off with the hard press of your lips to his - grinding yourself down on his lap with a little more purpose. Anything he was about to say, any inhibitions, dissolves like sugar inside your mouth. Minutes crawl by. Maybe longer, you’re unsure; too lost in this milky euphoria to give a damn about something as complex and currently unimportant as time. Your body is on fire; the heat that radiates from his flesh even from under the armor envelopes you in a different kind of warmth. You find your own hands mapping out the parts of his body that aren’t shelled by a plastoid exterior, landing on the piece that you’ve been grinding yourself on since arriving.

“Can I take this off?” Rex peers down at your hand laying over his codpiece; his perfect pout glistening, eyes darkening - the black orbs nearly swallowing the warm honey they reside in as he begins to look you over. 

“Please.”

If it wasn’t already a known fact that you’d never done this with someone like him before, then the way your fingers fumble around the plastoid in a blind search for the clasp - or whatever is holding this Maker forsaken thing in place - sure as hell gives it away. Sensing your evident struggle, Rex’s hand brushes over yours and the hindrance is unfastened in an instant. You raise a brow at him, and he only grins as you lean down to kiss him again.

Rex stands - your arms and legs squeezing him as he walks you to the bed, his erection teasing with its firm press against you. Laying you down on your back, he watches as you shimmy off the rest of your clothing. His breath catches in his throat upon your removal of your bra, eyes widening and fingers drumming at his sides, and you have to urge him to unfreeze so he can finishing undressing and join you.

“I... really want this,” he informs through heavy breaths - a hint of sheepishness engrained within the gruffness - finally moving to climb on the bed between your legs after stripping nearly everything from him and stacking it all in a neat pile. “You. Really want you.” You smile - the gleam reaching your eyes - and grab his arm to pull him on top of you. He’s still wearing his under-armor bottoms, and your hand shamelessly trails down to palm at the hard bulge from above the skin-tight material. 

“I want this too, Rex. You.” He groans - husky and deep - taking a few moments to relish the way your hand feels as you massage him before making quick work to remove the only thing that’s left covering his beautiful body.

It takes you by complete surprise - his extraordinary size. The way it was trapped within the compression bottoms was totally misleading. You swallow a clump of dry air - your tummy tingling and heart racing at the sight of him now completely nude and in the process of climbing back into position. 

“Maker...”

You say the most prominent and immediate thought out loud, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What? Is everything okay, is- is this okay?” Rex becomes mildly frantic, concerned - just about to climb away but you grab at his shoulder, fingers pressing into the toned, corded flesh where it curves into the base of his neck at the back. 

“Yes,” you sigh - astounded. “I just... you’re, um...” Your eyes remain glued to the erect, throbbing appendage standing at attention between his legs, noting how it curves slightly upwards at the tip and is aimed at your clenching heat. “You’re big, Rex.” When your eyes flicker back up to his, his brow is raised and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he doesn’t already fucking know how well-endowed he is. 

Shutting your eyes and sighing quietly, your face stings from the sound of your breathy voice uttering out such truism. He shifts his weight between the arms that are caging you in on either side and looks down at himself - considering. 

“I - uh-”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle with a quick nod of your head as you spread your legs wider with a slight roll of your hips. Your mound briefly brushes the hot, velvety skin along his shaft when you lift your hips again. Your abdomen involuntarily tightens upon noticing the length of him hovering over you, practically marking how deep inside he’ll be.  “I need you, Rex.”

You learn quickly that you needn’t repeat a thing to an esteemed captain of his merit. 

He prepares you, like any true gentleman would, getting your body ready to accept him fully. Licking, touching, sucking, prodding; it’s all so exquisitely slow, intricate, surprisingly good for someone who has had little to no experience in the arena of foreplay. Thick fingers work you open in deep, pleasant strokes - his knuckles knocking into the most tender and pleasurable tissue with every pass. Rex’s lips go from attending to your breasts and trailing along nearly every inch of your skin before reuniting with your own. He inadvertently works a mild orgasm from you from his delicate tongue and purposeful touch alone - the build-up a soft crescendo until you’re moaning his name in the most breathy voice you’ve ever entertained.

You’ve never felt so safe and cared for during moments like these; now is a whole different experience than what you’d encountered in the past. You don’t have an extensive list of previous partners, but all of the ones who had made your short list were boys. Immature, needy, desperate boys. Boys who could never compare to the man who’s currently breaching you with a very gentle roll of his hips laced with all the care in the galaxy. Not to mention, his size. In that alone Rex is unmatched. 

Your lips barely disconnect; the soft whimpers and moans shared between the two of you are breathed into one another and swallowed. You’ve never experienced anything so tender yet deliberate at the same time - the combination of soft meeting its opposite making your head spin and toes curling. Nails forming small crescents indenting into his skin, you hang on to Rex’s broad shoulders as he rocks into you. It’s a steady pace he sets right from the get-go and he keeps that all the way up until your second orgasm flows through you, consequently causing a hint of resistance put up by your clenching walls, affecting his length’s repeating reentry. Not much is said, but a lot is spoken through eye contact. Neither of you want this to end, but when it inevitably does, you’d want to do this again. You want to do more than this; you both want to see each other again. When he finishes, it’s the gravelly, drawn-out groan falling out of his throat that causes you to see the stars from where they’re hung outside Coruscant’s orbit as if you’re sitting directly in front of them, just an arm’s length away. 

You’re cleaned up in such a meticulous and tender way that only Rex could provide. He falls to your side - taking you with him as his strong arms wrap around your torso. It’s insane; the way you fell into each other earlier this evening is comparable to fate itself. You think you’re going crazy, that you’re feeling all these things only after having known Rex for less than several hours, that you’re diving into something too hard and too quickly.

“Do you feel it, too?” 

You don’t know what possessed you to ask him instead of keeping it locked up in your buzzing mind, still keyed up from the best sex you’ve ever had, but it’s out there. Unable to see his face from your position, your heart starts racing with nerves, and in the several moments of silence and lingering regret, you mentally curse at yourself for being so forward.

“Yeah,” Rex says with a soft smile evident in his tone - a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders and tossed aside. “I do.”

With that, his arms hold you just a little tighter and he places a chaste kiss on your temple. It’s not long before the sound of soft snoring fills the otherwise quiet bedroom, and minutes later you’re right there alongside him - content, fluttering heart and all.

<<<>>>

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#once again. I got Carried Away #post-order 66 rex #djarrex writes #inbox #Rex Gayiyla #captain rex x reader #captain rex x f!reader #captain rex smut #star wars fic #request(?) #request

[shootybangbang]

Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺

(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)

[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot

[Rating]: Explicit

[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism

———

“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”

With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.

His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.

“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”

“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”

Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.

“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”

“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Immensely.”

“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”

“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.

“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.

He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”

A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.

You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.

“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”

You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.

The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”

Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.

Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.

“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”

“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”

His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.

“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.

He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.

You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.

His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.

When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”

You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.

“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”

You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”

“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.

Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”

“Too much?”

“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.

You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”

The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.

Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”

He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.

“What— how did you…?”

“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”

“But I double-checked this time!”

“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”

“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.

“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”

You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.

“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”

He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.

Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.

And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.

Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.

Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.

Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”

“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.

Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”

When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.

As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”

He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption #fic #smut #my work #this makes my kinks so apparent that i want to crawl into a hole and die #sorry for being gross :’^)

[wolffe-simp]

A Clones Padawan (18+)

Another 3am piece of work

Pairing: Reader x Wolffe

Warnings: Smut, established relationship, creeping around, marking, Dom!Wolffe, V in P, unprotected, Wolffe wanting to be a baby maker, Jealous!Wolffe

Wolffe can't control himself when someone tries to flirt with his Padawan.

The music seeped into the body of the female as she danced to the beat, her very being trembling with the vibration of the speakers. While her skills for graceful movements were usually used in lightsaber training with her master and other Jedi, (Y/N) enjoyed the rare moments where she got to dance and let go, to be herself in one single moment.

After many weeks spent on the battlefield, the Padawan of Plo Koon just wanted to enjoy a night out with her clones. Sinker and Boost had "persuaded" her to tag along, telling her that the whole squad, including Commander Wolffe were going to be there. The thought of her Commander, her secret clone boyfriend, giving into the pestering of his brothers had made her giggle to herself, telling her friends that she would see them later on. Moments of self enjoyment were rare but getting to spend time with her Commander were even rarer. She had spent the rest of the day picking out the perfect outfit, fixing her hair and applying the right amount of make up to try and drive Wolffe mad.

Her mission to tease her Commander was what had led her to the dance floor, moving her hips to the beat. She threw her hair over her shoulder, sparing a glance to the table where the Wolfpack usually occupied. Most of the lads were locked in conversations with clones from other squads that had decided to join them. Yet he sat there, eyes transfixed on her figure, fingers tightening around the glass in his hand, imagining her body beneath the dress that hugged her features. She made eye contact with Wolffe, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue as she threw him a wink. She watched his jaw tighten, trying to keep himself composed, not wanting his brothers to take notice of his slowly crumbling composure. There was nothing in this galaxy as beautiful as her, the second his general had introduced her to the pack, he had been transfixed by her sheer beauty. A goddess that had somehow fallen as deeply in love with him as he had with her, the fact that only he got to hold her, please her, made flames of arousal spread through his veins.

The music changed to a low song, causing her to let out a small breathless laugh. She moved away from the dance floor, heading to the bar to order herself a drink before she returned to her squadron. As she leaned against the bar, the air rippled around her, the force alerting her of the presence that appeared by her side. Slowly, she turned her head to face the person, raising a thin eyebrow at the man in the seat next to her. He wasn't a clone, that was for sure, from what she could see, he was a green, plump male of a race unknown to her and looking her up and down with dark beady eyes.

"Hello beautiful, can I buy you a drink?" He tried to purr at her, the words only coming out as slurred syllables.

"No thank you, I can buy my own," She replied as the bartender brought her, her drink.

She picked it up, moving to make a quick get away when the man suddenly took her by the wrist, jerking her in his direction. She leaned away in disgust as he leaned towards her, his breath stinking of both alcohol and rotten fish.

"Just one, little drink." He insisted.

"I said no, now release me." She snapped in return.

Before he could say anymore, the man was suddenly ripped away from her and slammed against the side of the bar. Wolffe practically growled and he held the man by his shirt, eyes alight with pure, burning fury.

"She said no, take the hint or you'll be swallowing your teeth." Wolffe snarled lowly. "Do. You. Understand. Me?"

The man was whimpering in the presence of the clone commander, intimidated by the sheer anger radiating from him. He couldn't find his voice, so nodded quickly, letting Wolffe know that he more that understood what would happen if he bothered you again. Wolffe slammed him into the bar again for one final measure before letting him go, watching the man stumble into the small crowds of clones scattered around. A few had seen the transaction and glowered at the man, while a few others came to the aid of their vod and led the man outside, likely to follow through with Wolffe's threat or to intimidate the man enough to ensure he never came back.

Wolffe was still shaking with rage, his hand clenching and unclenching by his sides. (Y/N) reached out a hand to rest on his arm but he recoiled from the touch and stormed outside. Worried that she had done something wrong or that he was going to get himself in trouble, the Padawan put her drink down and raced after him, wanting to make sure he was okay. She followed him a few blocks away from the club before he stopped, allowing her to catch up with him, his back still turned to her. Once she finally reached him, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the closest alley, pinning her to a wall.

"Wolf-"

His name barely left her lips before her was silencing her with his mouth, hot and heavy. She whined softly into the kiss, eyes fluttering close as her hands fisted into the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss was rough and intoxicating, arousal sparking in the pit of (Y/N)'s stomach. They were lost in each other, both we desperate to have the other, especially after not being able to alone for so long. But after her display and the audacity of that drunkard trying to take what belongs to the commander, the dam finally broke, their self control giving way to the need to feel the others body against their own. After a moment, Wolffe pulled away, dark eyes taking in the red, kiss swollen lips of his precious Padawan. She was breathless, panting softly with parted lips, making the Commander smirk down at her. His large hands stroked down her sides, sliding down to her backside so he could lift her up, giving her a moment to wrap her legs securely around his waist.

Normally, Wolffe would want to take things slow, to show (Y/N) how much he loved her, to tease her until she was begging for him to take her. But something feral had taken over him, making him want to do nothing more than fuck his love until she was screaming his name, until she was filled to the brim with his seed. The thought of her carrying his child suddenly crept into his mind, enticing a low, rumbling growl from the depths of his chest. His lips moved to her neck, biting harshly into the skin as he pressed his body into hes, his arousal grinding against her core.

The feeling of him grinding against her made her moan wantonly, her hands reaching down to push down his pants, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her. He groaned when he felt one of her hands slip past the waistband of his blacks, slender fingers wrapping around the hardened flesh of his manhood, stroking along his length for a few seconds before pulling him from his confinements. There was no slow burn, no teeth rotting romance, no dirty talk, no pleading, only one simple need.

She gasped, hand gripping his shoulders when she felt him push her panties to the side, giving himself access to her core. For a split second, he ran his manhood through her fold, allowing her juices to slick him up but to also give her a moment to back out. Instead, she pulled him into a seering kiss, whimpering as he slammed into her with one powerful thrust. He didn't wait for her to adjust, simply pressed her further into the wall, pulling almost all the way out before surging back into the depths of her sex.

She cried into his mouth, allowing him to swallow her noises of pleasure as he continued to slam into her, her legs tightening around his waist to draw him in more. Wolffe groaned, finger digging harshly into her hips as he took her, bruising her with the mark of his fingertips. (Y/N) pulled away from the kiss to bury her head in his neck, growing more vocal as began to thrust faster, plunging into her even harder.

He could feel her walls trying to clamp around him every time he went to pull out, felt them quiver in excitement when he brushed against them to seek out the spot that would make her scream. She was practically sobbing against him, feeling him fill her like no other, feeling the jab of his manhood against the entrance to her womb. The heat inside her was growing, building into a raging fire, growing hotter with every thrust. The alley echoed with the sound of skin slapping against the skin, the sinful voices of their pleasure bouncing off the walls and fading into the night. Both could feel themselves growing closer to their releases, it had been so long since they had done this that it was almost impossible for them to hold on for much longer. (Y/N) could feel the falter of Wolffe's hips, his movements becoming erratic. Wolffe slipped a hand between them, fingers circling her clit and making her keen. He toyed with the bundle of nerves, feeling her tighten around him like a vice, making it harder for him to push deeper into her. She felt his lips on her neck, feeling his teeth sink into her tender flesh, the pain and the pleasure making her cry out as the fire inside her erupted. Her insides quivered around him as he continued to fuck into her, riding her through her climax until he buried himself as deep inside her as possible, spilling his seed into her awaiting womb.

They stood there, panting softly as they basked in each others presence and the aftermath of their releases. (Y/N) left soft kisses along the length of his neck whole Wolffe ran his hands soothingly up and down her sides.

"I should try and make you jealous more often if this is what happens." She mumbled into his skin.

Wolffe chuckled softly, turning his head to place a gently kiss against the side of her head.

"I'll just have to start punishing you Mesh'la."

His words made her moan at the image of being punished, not realising how enticing the idea sounded until now.

Wolffe pulled out of her, setting her down gently before tucking himself back into his pants. They made themselves look more presentable before leaving the alleyway, making their way back towards the barracks and the Jedi Temple, both feeling more relaxed.

"You know I love you right?" (Y/N) suddenly blurted out, the scene of the creepy guy playing on her mind.

"Yeah, I know and I love you too."

#commander wolffe #clone wars #cloneshipping #star wars #smut #reader insert #wolffe x reader