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utterlyazriel · 5 months

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an eternity, my love

eep! this is a bit longer than the last at just over 6k forgive me... but thank so much for all love on the first piece 🥹 and thank u for all your lovely ideas! i hope this does sum justice to the nonnie who asked for further miscommuncation... <3 part one here but u don’t need to read it to read this :)

How does one even begin to decide what to wear to dinner with a person, the person, who matched your soul perfectly?

When your friend had hunted her way through clothing stores of Velaris and stashed away a custom dress — far fancier than anything you owned — for the first date with her mate, you had laughed at her.

Now, staring at your closet in only your undergarments, you were beginning to envy her preparation.

Seriously, how are you supposed to choose?

You pick up your latest addition to your closet, a glossy dress the colour of red wine that reveals the length of your legs and planes of your collarbones— perfect for a night out dancing.

With a grimace, you place it back on the hanger. It was far more scandalous than you would want to be on a first date, even though — well, you’re sure that, being mates, Azriel would like anything you wore.

You heave a sigh. An uneasy prickle beneath your skin has you crossing your arms; it was almost alarming how badly you wanted to impress him. But… mating bonds were rare and powerful.

Almost as if you had summoned it — in fact, maybe you had — there’s a soft shimmer in your chest. Your beautiful glow, the bridge between you and Azriel humming to life. In a way you can’t explain, it’s as though you can feel him soothe across your mind, his soft touch full of assurances.

He’s comforting you. All your emotions must be shooting down the bond without your permission. Gods, that would take some getting used to. You wonder if he can feel your resounding pang of embarrassment as well.

You do your best to push back something less nervous, more of your excitement for the night to come — and you know, without even seeing him, he’s smiling.

After another moment of fussing, you decide on something simpler than your glossy night dress.

Comfortable black slacks with plenty of flow to them and a shirt you thought was one of your nicer ones. With the slightest touch ups to your makeup, you rush yourself out the door before you convince yourself to change all over again.

The Sidra keeps you company, a rush of water beside you as you wind through the streets of Velaris, eyes flicking up to take in the darkening sky. The sun was sinking below the mountain tops, rays tickling across the ridges.

And while you could admit that Velaris was very beautiful in the daytime, you were a true Night court citizen— and believed its true beauty came out at night.

Somehow, despite the lack of concrete plans made as you had ushered the male out of your office, you knew resolutely that you would be able to find him. You weren’t even worried about the timing of it all. It was… what was the word? Absurd. Insane. Utterly, breathtakingly incredible.

Sure enough, as you exit the alley and round the corner, your eyes falling on the sage green building you reside in for work, there he is; waiting for you.

You inhale a sharp breath. A thousand cells in your body fizz, hum, and glow, at the mere sight of him.

It's easy to understand just how he had garnered his dark reputation, the image of him every bit of the Spymaster of the Night Court — a title like Shadowsinger has never been so fitting for him.

He’s blurred at the edges, a thousand tiny wisps that blend him into the shadows of the nighttime. His wings stretch up behind, towering over his already tall frame, black as ink, and beneath his darkened attire, you can spot his tan skin. Your eyes drag up his neck, tracing his adam's apple, along the scruff of his sharp jaw until you reach his hazel eyes.

Your heart burns.

In the depth of it, you know, if he doesn't love you, he will undo you completely.

It's wholly terrifying to come face to face with — the intensity of the mating bond scorching through your mind like a fierce wind, burning embers left in its wake.

It's enough to make you pause, the definitive thought that doing this, offering him your heart and trusting him, could very well lead to your ruin.

Your chest squeezes tightly. You let your eyes drink in the Illyrian, the Male who waited so patiently for all those years and was prepared to wait years more, if you had asked.

Focusing, you pluck up that golden thread in your chest and hold it tightly. It heats and melts, hotter and hotter, and you know that any fear you have, you can conquer to be with him.

Ruination be damned.

—

Azriel notices you the moment your frame exits the alley, notices the moment you pause — has been able to feel you drawing nearer to him this whole time. Your every emotion is transparent to him through the bond between you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

You must not have the tightened mental shields he had come to be so familiar with over all his years. It makes sense; you are no warrior. Mental walls over your mind are not something you have ever had to concern yourself with.

Azriel vows it to be one of the things he teaches you. You deserved the privacy of your emotions, at the very least.

But... for now, Azriel can feel them all. It's why, as you round the corner, Azriel can feel your eyes on him and then, then he feels it.

The wash of fear that spills over your bond like icy water.

An old enemy rises within him. He grits his teeth, even as he feels the fear from you slide away and he tries to ignore the sting from an unhealed wound. But self-deprecation never seems to drown, no matter how much he tries to suffocate it within him.

He shifts his hands, relieved suddenly to have them covered up beneath gloves. His wings tuck in tighter, if possible, and he wills his shadows sternly to contain themselves. Something in the slightest baring of his teeth has them obeying. They shoot to his sides and make themselves scarce.

All this in time to greet you pleasantly as you bounce into view, sidling up before him with a shy grin. It's only been a few hours since he got his proper look at you and yet, you're every bit as breathtaking as you were earlier. More so, in fact.

It feels as though Azriel has never seen the sky before and you before him, are the first sunset of his life. You look so pretty that Azriel could probably gaze at you all evening if you so allowed him to.

And then, he remembers the pang of fear.

He doesn't waste time mulling over which detail of him had made you afraid — only that he would dim or change or hide any part of himself to stop it from happening again.

"Hello, again," You say, your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You have to tilt your head back to look up at his handsome face. His shadows swirl around him and despite his strict instructions, one still slips away to touch you.

You don't notice it circling your ankle, tentative and shy.

"Hello, again." Azriel echoes your words, unable to help his own glimmer of joy.

He wants to offer you his arm, his hand. Can feel it within him, down to the very marrow of his bones, the craving to be closer to you, to touch you, however he can.

Azriel swallows heavily and does what he has done over decades, over centuries; he takes the wanting and pushes it down, down, down.

The two of you begin to walk, side by side, with no destination in mind. Aimless and content at the same time.

Azriel doesn't need the bond to see the flittering of nerves hidden in your expression. The shadow still circulating around your ankle climbs higher, like it wants to comfort you too.

Azriel wills it to still, desperate to not scare you again. He drops his shoulders from his usual warrior posture in hopes of making himself a little smaller.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” He says reassuringly.

You steal a glimpse at him, your smile breaking into a grin. Your nerves are still potent but less so.

“Who says I’m nervous?”

Azriel smiles gently, his eyes dancing across your face as he reads your lie easily. “I do."

There's a scrunch between your eyebrows then, like he had seen during his time in your office earlier. Azriel places a hand on his chest, over the place where the glowing tug is strongest.

"I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at his gloved hand, the cogs in your brain spinning and turning at a rapid rate. Still strolling, your hand rises slowly and touches to the same spot on your own chest. Azriel can feel his heart stutter at the sight, you holding the spot that connected you to him undeniably.

"You can?" Your gaze lifts to his face, puzzlement adorning your features. You frown and focus for a moment, staring hard into the distance — and Azriel feels a sudden twinge of disgust through the thread.

"Did you feel that?" You ask, eyes wide and curious.

Azriel nods wordlessly and he can't help but ask. "What is it you were thinking of?"

You look embarrassed for a moment, eyes averting to the ground. You chuckle awkwardly and tuck your hair behind your ears, glancing back up at the Male with a sheepish smile.

"Brussels sprouts."

Azriel blinks once, twice, and then has to turn to hide his smile. He tries to cover his laugh with a cough. It doesn't work, given how you make a small noise of indignation. He turns back, his politest expression on.

"Don't laugh at me!" You whine, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder. Your touch radiates through his body like a drop of golden sun, blazing warm.

"You're right," Azriel hums, his lips twitching as he presses back his smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is important knowledge I should be filing away. I swear on my life I will feed you no brussels sprouts this evening, or any in the future."

He wants to nudge your shoulder with his own, just to touch you, wants to reach out as easily as you had. But his shadows slip before his self-control does, skittering out along onto your shoulder and giving you a small shock and Azriel remembers himself. His fists clench tightly at his sides.

You walk side by side all evening, like two planets in orbit — close, oh so close, but never quite touching.

—

The first date you share is nothing short of… wonderful.

Resolutely and overwhelming good, the entire date you can't help but feel as though your very soul is singing, a thousand particles blithesome at the nearness you get to share with Azriel. He's surprising in a manner of ways.

Firstly, he's terribly quiet.

Next to him, you look quite the blabber-mouth, no matter how much he insists he enjoys it. His dark eyes are intense as they watch you closely, soaking in every word that passes your lips, and yet, beneath it, his dry sense of humour comes out to play. There's the occasional tease, almost as if just to see if he could make you flustered. (He could, easily).

With a Male as beautiful as him, suited to your very being in every way, it's nearly unbearable how much you ache for him. How much his very attention creeps down your neck and makes every nerve along your spine tingle.

You know it will take some time to get used to his unwavering and devoted attention.

There’s… just one small, itty-bitty, tiny problem.

He doesn’t touch you.

Throughout that whole first evening, you had noticed it somewhat— a flex in his gloved hands, a moment where his wing strayed too close only to be pulled back in a flash, even his shadows, darting out to be near you but never quite touching you as they had on that first meeting.

His hands reach out but they do not find you.

At first, you believed it was a first date thing. Azriel was, first and foremost, a gentleman, and you thought perhaps, his skirting touch, like his hand lingering over the small of your back but not touching it, was to be polite. Courteous and gracious.

Then, you had seen him just two days after that date, all bundled up in your giddiness that it had managed to slip your mind.

The two of you had spent the day together, traversing through the market — before you quickly found a quieter space for your mate as it became clear that large bustling areas, such as the Palace of Threads and Jewels, were not so suited to his tastes.

As you had tugged him out of the crowd, laughing over your shoulder at how he fought to keep his broad wings from knocking into anyone else, the thought suddenly snapped back into you.

Though you yearned to link his arm with your own, to interlace your fingers with his, you remembered his hesitance. Remembered the hover of his gloved hand.

And so, you dropped his arm the moment you cleared the crowd.

A hurt warbled deep within you to so do and knowing you were not the deftest at schooling your expressions, you hid your face so you could contain your childish reactions. You huffed at your own upset. What matter is it if your mate has no affinity to touch?

Truly, it was a miracle to have found a mate at all, you tried to scold yourself. You would not take him for granted for a moment, not even if it was not quite the picture of perfection you had envisioned.

Rooted deep in you was a truth; you could abide by this, abstain to his level of comfort for years, for millennia, if it made him happier.

The fabric of the mating bond, connecting the two of you intrinsically, made it so you would not want it any other way.

It's a decidedly Azriel thing.

He always wears the gloves, he never touches you more than he has to, and he's got... this really specific look when you're doing a terrible job of hiding your emotions.

As he had vowed, Azriel had set about teaching you how to build the mental walls up within your mind, brick by brick by brick. While it would help you hold against daemati if that loathsome situation should ever arise, it would also shield you from your mate.

It would protect you from having your emotions ripped out for him to see, no matter how much you held back — if it was in your mind, it would travel down the bond.

So, the wall had to be built. It had been tedious, tricky, and tiring work. Yet every time you would feel yourself ready to throw in the towel, Azriel would lean in closer, his hazel eyes softened, and his hand resting upon your arm, thumb swatching up and down, to encourage you.

"I know it is tiresome," He had mused, that faint smile twitching at his lips as you scowled at the ground. His thumb was still moving, still drawing light circles on your bicep. The skin beneath it blazed with warmth. "But it is worth it, that I can promise. You deserve this privacy, my dear. I would never wish to take it from you."

My dear, my dear, my dear— the words had sunk into your sternum and bloomed, bright and golden.

It's enough to hold onto, his kind affections. The sweet shape of his mouth when it says your name. The way his lashes kiss in the corner when he can't hold back his smile.

It's enough to soothe yourself over. To take the lack of touch on the chin and swallow down your desire for more.

It's why— why you can't help yourself— why you couldn't tear your eyes away from Azriel's hand where it touches Cassian's arm.

You're meeting his family today, which you've quickly realised doesn't mean his mother or father but instead means... the literal Highlord of the Night Court.

There are several warriors crowded around the cramped entrance room to the River House. Each of them is taller than you, and two of them with the very same huge wingspans that you've come to revere on your own mate.

Your usual talkativeness has been dimmed in your shock, though, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Azriel is a force to be reckoned with, honed over decades, and the Spymaster of the Night Court. You know these things. The company he keeps makes sense.

Somehow... still, seeing them all together leaves you strikingly speechless. The legion that protects your home — a family.

Rhysand greets you first, dapper in his dark attire, his violet eyes equal parts calculating and welcoming as he steps forward and offers his hand.

Despite the fact you have never bowed to him before, you still have to repress the urge. His power is overwhelming, the very night lapping at his edges and you're suddenly very grateful to be meeting him as a friend and not as a foe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rhysand's voice purrs out, soft as silk. When you place your hand in his, he brings it to his lips and presses a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

"Any friend of Azriel's is a friend of mine."

You can feel your own heart thundering in your chest. Azriel hovers behind you, his presence soothing in itself. You can't see it but his wings are outstretched towards you, cocooning around you ever so slightly. A shadow hovers behind your shoulder, just out of sight.

"I— the pleasure is mine, my Highlord." You manage to make yourself speak.

You almost wish you hadn't when your words inspire a burst of laughter from one of the others behind Rhysand, the other Illyrian. He's tall, his hair dark but longer than your mate's own.

As your hand is dropped, Rhysand turns to scowl at the Male laughing, and you only grow further perplexed when he gives a whack against the other's shoulder. They begin to squabble for a moment — and you don't even hear Azriel move until he's speaking, his lips right by your ear.

"You'll have to forgive Cassian." His voice is low, raspy in a way that sends a zing down your spine. You shiver lightly. "He can be well-mannered at the best of times. But I promise he isn't laughing at you."

The two Males seem to tune back into Azriel's words, even though they had been whispered for you specifically.

"It's true!" The Illyrian, Cassian you now know, pipes up. He brandishes a devilishly handsome grin at you, with his hands held up in defense. "I apologise. It just still makes me laugh to see someone address this one so formally."

You blink. "But... he is the Highlord."

Azriel speaks again, bent over still to talk in your ear, but much less of a whisper this time. "Rhys is our Highlord but he does not bother with such formalities."

"And," Cassian interjects, lugging a punch into Rhy's shoulder, much like the other had done to him not a moment before. "Before he was the o'mighty Highlord, he was our friend."

Cassian says the word o'mighty with such an air of sarcasm that you can't help but glance at Rhys, sure he wouldn't take such disrespect. But around you, there are only easy grins.

"Might we move to somewhere more comfortable than the doorway," Azriel speaks up from behind you, his voice dry. "Unless that is, you're all hoping to do one-on-one greetings with her?"

There it is, the dry sense of humour you've come to adore. The group before you seems to grumble, as if they were quite keen on the one-on-one meetings but begin to move through the house.

One of the group dips back to walk beside you and you do your best not to repeat your past mistakes, even as your eyes widen almost comically. Azriel chuckles silently to himself, feeling your polite astonishment down the bond.

"It's so great to finally meet you.” Feyre, your Highlady greets you, her pretty face rife with glee. She seems genuinely very happy to make your acquaintance. "Azriel has told me all about you."

You stumble in surprise, your eyes casting back to Azriel behind the pair of you. His eyes are fixed on Feyre, narrowed at her blatant betrayal, his shadows swirling around him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and you smother a laugh.

When his eyes shift over to you, you're positively delighted at how his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of ruby.

"Feyre is very persuasive when she wants to be." He murmurs, almost grumbling. You turn back to the Highlady and she grins at you, devious and captivating all at once.

It’s a whirlwind once you reach one of the many living rooms, each member of Azriel’s family all very eager to shake your hand.

Cassian grips it firm, his grin still on the side of wicked as he tells you he’s been waiting years to find the woman who could contain Azriel. Nesta, his mate as you find out, is a fierce kind of pretty with a grip as strong as Cassian’s. She tells you welcome to the family with the smile of a shark.

Morrigon is next, breathtakingly gorgeous, and every bit as charismatic as Azriel had described. You don't catch the glimpse between Mor and Cassian, not the beat of relief they both feel at your arrival in their lives— in Azriel's life.

It's swallowed up in her words, going a mile a minute. She jumps about, like popcorn in a pan, overly keen to finally speak to the one whom the Mother deemed worthy of Azriel’s heart. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet?

“Mor,” Azriel warns, after her twelfth consecutive question about your life. He hasn’t moved from his protective position behind you, close enough you can feel the heat of his body. His wings had brushed your shoulder just once.

“Yeah, Mor,” Rhys jeers. He nudges his cousin in the side playfully and Cassian snickers behind the group. “Give the girl some time to breathe.”

Even with all of Azriel's masterclass on who you would be meeting, it's still terribly overwhelming just trying to keep track of them all. They're each such strong spirits, each with seemingly a thousand battles in their past and far more years with Azriel.

On top of this is the fact you met both your Highlord and Highlady so casually in one single afternoon. It's difficult to not be daunted by the group that is so clearly intertwined with each other on a deeper level altogether— bonded by devastation and choosing each other through love.

Try as you might, you can feel the seed of doubt, of insecurity, make a home between your ribs.

You clamp down the shields you've spent the last few weeks learning, building the wall up and holding it tight. It's silly to feel dismayed because these Fae, these friends, know your mate better than you do.

Azriel had told you he had been waiting for you for five hundred years. For the first time since you've met him, you wonder if he was ever disappointed.

And then— then, you see it.

Azriel's hand on Cassian's arm. Then the half embrace they share, a hand on each other's neck as Cassian grins, wild and fierce, and presses his forehead against Azriel's own; brothers, sharing a moment of euphoria at the other finding his long-deserved happiness.

You should be soaking in the smile Azriel hides from you too often, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes. But instead, you can't see past it, can't stop the loop in your own mind as it prints a fact over and over and over.

It isn't an Azriel thing; it's a you thing.

He doesn't touch you.

The mental walls in your mind feel paper-thin as a fresh kind of agony ripples through your chest. The soft rejection of a mate stings, a papercut on your very heart. You can feel it warble through you and know, terribly, the exact moment that Azriel feels it too.

His head whips around, his dark shadows that surround him suddenly spinning and flitting faster than before— a couple dive across the room to you.

You stand up and the chair scrapes noisily beneath you.

"I—" You say before you realise you haven't planned an exit or an excuse in the slightest. Azriel's gaze burns into you. You turn to Feyre instead, who had been talking across from you when you rudely stood up.

"I'm so sorry, I just—" Some excuse, any excuse! "I think I— left the stove on."

It's a lie. A complete utter lie that fools no one in the room as you retreat from it hastily. None of them try to stop you though, which you're thankful for. Each of them watches, every expression slightly concerned as you hurry out of the room, your feet walking backward rapidly until you bump into the door frame.

You pass through it with your eyes on the floor, knowing that all of the eyes are on you. You know the ones you can feel searing into your soul are Azriel's.

You leave the River House. You walk along the Sidra, your steps hurried and your chin tucked low. It hurts. It hurts the feeling inside you. A tear streaks down your cheek, unbidden, and collects on your jaw. You wipe it away meanly.

The sight of your apartment door is an overwhelming comfort, one that has you sighing aloud as you rush up to it, your fingers already digging around in your pockets for your key.

And like always, you never hear him coming.

"What happened?" Azriel asks, his voice almost pained.

You give a little yelp of surprise and whip around, remembering half a second later that there's still evidence on your face of your tears. Azriel grows characteristically still, his hazel eyes fixed on yours as you sniffle for a moment, aggravation beginning to creep in.

He could feel everything from you and you got... what? Whatever he deemed fit to offer? How is that fair?

His usually wispy shadows are inkier than usual, almost tornado-ing around his shoulders. They keep leaping out towards you before being caught in an invisible net, a barrier between you and them.

Even as Azriel remains motionless, his eyes are the opposite—they jump around, searching, hunting, begging to find the cause of your pain. Had it been one of his friends?

"Please," He tries his words again.

His heart throbs painfully when you finally find your key and turn your back on him without a word, unlocking your door and pressing your way inside. He follows quickly, wings tucked in tight, unable to keep his shadows at his side this time. They whiz to you, circling your ankles protectively.

"Please," Azriel says, an anguished growl to his words. "What hurt you? I will— my friends, if they said something— if it was someone, I hunt them down and make it right for you."

You inhale sharply and when you speak, your tone is cold in a way you have never used before with Azriel. You say the words without thinking.

"It would be impossible to hunt yourself, Azriel."

Regret howls through you like a hurricane the moment you say the words. You don't mean to be mean, jealous, or whatever unseemly emotion you can't stop from sprouting in your chest, growing in size, tangling into your heartstrings like twisted gnarled vines. It hurts.

You turn back to him, mouth open. No words come out.

Hurt is slashed across his face, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, his shadows tucked in tight. It's as though he's blended into the very air, the wispy edge of him threatening to retreat into his own shadows.

All his emotions on display just for a moment, before they're schooled away. Tucked away, hidden, not for you to see.

Inside, your hurricane howls again, this time in pain.

You can tell he feels it, even as you mentally gather your bricks. It isn't fair. How can he have every bit of you and you get what he pleases to return?

You want to know him completely, want to see every part of his rugged, weathered soul, and love him anyway. It's an untold type of agony to have him deny you.

"My love," His feet finally move, his wings almost dragging on the floor as he steps forward, slowly, as though he was afraid he might spook you.

"Tell me how to fix this pain." He pleads. His gloved hands are held out, palms up and suddenly, he looks nothing like a warrior. Just a Male, afraid of losing what is most dear to him. You shake your head, like a child, and keep building your brick wall.

"Please don’t keep this from me," He takes another step forward, his shadows sent awry as they dart across to you. You can feel them on your calves, on your arms, feel the tiny kisses they leave. Azriel speaks again, voice low. "My love, I can feel your pain.”

You can't help how you screw your eyes closed, the ache in your chest unbearable— made worse when you know he can feel it too.

"That is my problem." You utter the words quietly, eyes still clenched shut, knowing he can hear you. He takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat of his enormous frame, his wings bracketing around you. "I cannot hide anything from you."

Azriel makes a noise, a punched-out wounded sound that reverberates down the bond.

"My love," He murmurs for the third time. Down the bond, you can feel his sweet love, his golden gentle feelings travelling along to assure you. "I would not wish for you to hide anything from me."

“But you hide everything from me." You whine, eyes finally crinkling open. Azriel stares down at you, his eyes softer than they've ever been. You can see the hurt swimming in them, the hurt you've caused. Still, you speak.

"You hide your emotions. You hide your touch, yet you give it willingly to your friends." You share each ugly thought with him, whispered as you gaze into his face to search for your answers.

Lifting your hands, you curl your fingers around his wrists tentatively. Azriel swallows heavily, his eyes dancing down to where you're touching him. You slide your hands forward, dragging the pads of your fingers over his pulse, along his palm, til your hands are holding his gloved ones.

"Is there some test I don't know about?" You ask, your focus on your intertwined hands. "Is there— do I have to earn this?"

"No," Azriel chokes out the word suddenly. You look up at him. He clears his throat and you feel his hands grip yours back, surer and stronger than you had. "No, I'm sorry. There is no test, nothing to prove you deserving of this. I just..."

His words trail off and you watch as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if gathering his courage. His hands slide from yours, pulled backward and you nearly feel the urge to cry once more— before you realise he's removing his gloves.

The skin of them is warped, you realise acutely with horror. The skin of his hands is swirled and mottled, an injury long healed but scarred for eternity. Azriel is watching your face closely, holding his hands close to his chest as though he was prepared to hide them away at the first flicker of fear.

You're grateful for the link between and all your shoddy attempts at blocking him out. Your love and your unwavering devotion drifts along the bond.

Azriel shudders, his wings giving the tiniest shiver. Slowly, gently, he reaches out towards you. You feel his hands, the unruly scarred feel of his skin sliding along your jaw to hold it tenderly. He has never held you like this before.

He cradles your face gently — like his hands have never held weapons of war, like they aren't twisted and marred with a memory he can't forget, like they're worthy of holding something so precious.

Azriel holds you as if you're holy — and he's come to kneel at your altar.

"I was afraid of what you would think." He admits. His voice is hoarse, gravelly as he fights off the lump in his throat. "I— on the first day we met, I felt your fear along the bond and—"

"It was not of you." You interrupt him, your hands jumping up to cover his own where they hold you. Azriel inhales sharply, eyes darting to watch.

But you pay him no heed, the palm of your hand covering his like a lover would. You let your thumb soothe up at down the ridges of his skin. You let your love ripple along the bond.

"It was not fear of you, Azriel." You repeat, your voice soft. His eyes are still fixed on your joined hands. His wings have begun to pick up, no longer drooping behind his back— you're not sure if he even notices.

"It was fear for how strongly I already felt for you." You lean into his hand and Azriel lets you, lets the length of your nose nuzzle into the touch of his hands — something no one in all his years of living had ever done before.

"It was fear that you already could ruin me," The words are murmured. "And that I would let you."

You whisper his name to pull his wide-eyed gaze from where his hands touch you and his hazel eyes burn into yours. Every whitened scar on his skin, every eyelash, the adorable pinch between his eyebrows; you drink it all in and smile at him. Azriel, your mate.

"Azriel, I chose this despite that fear. I choose you.”

Azriel quivers at the words, at your unflinching tone and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, time moving around you, untouching, with such a perfect grace.

“I choose you too,” He murmurs, an emotion so strong a fire of possessiveness streaks down the bond. This time, you can feel his wall melt away, allowing you access to all he feels — his mountain of fear and his melting relief.

“Forgive me—” He begins and you laugh without meaning to, cutting him off.

“Stop,” you say, the word light and as pretty as your grin. “We keep doing this to ourselves, tying ourselves in knots over and over.”

Azriel laughs, his lips twitching into a smile as he allows himself to stroke his thumb lovingly over your cheek. The way you melt beneath it, your lashes fluttering and heart burning so brightly he can feel it in his own chest too— Azriel knows this longing will long outlive his body.

“We do,” He agrees. He dips his head a little lower, probably the only apology you’ll let him have, and inhales shakily. His hands shift across your face, down to hold your chin, his fingers pressed together tightly to hide the way they quiver.

“Then let me apologise in another way,” He murmurs, his voice closer to playful. “In a way I’ve been selfishly depriving you of.”

And when he kisses you, it’s with a reverence that softens all your corners.

His lips are plush and sweet, and with the way he dedicates himself to your bottom lip, you can’t help how you sigh into his mouth. He finds home in the curve of your mouth.

It’s delirious the way he kisses once, twice, three times like he’s hungry for something found only in your lips.

Your hands stagger forward, leaving his own to wind over around his neck. Your fingers curl up, raking through the hair on the nape of his neck — feeling the shiver that travels up his spine, his wings giving a little flare out.

He kisses you breathless, one hand abandoning your jaw to wrap snugly around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, something within you glows molten gold at the panting that leaves his lips. He’s gazing at you, his hazel eyes alight in a way you haven’t quite seen before. His wings shift behind his shoulders, curling forward to wrap the two of you together, not quite touching.

Your heart thrills. You grin, your lips still just an inch apart as Azriel nudges forward, his own twitching in that way when he fights his smile. His lips brush yours, his smile barely held back.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He says, sweet and low, allowing the smile to finally pull his pretty mouth up at the corners.

“Or should I make it up to you a little more?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, chaste and gentle.

“Mmm,” your eyes are bright as they peer up at him, full of playful mirth and adoring affection. “You're forgiven but... I think you should make it up to me, just a little more.”

Azriel willingly obliges, his smile as sweet as the moonlight.

—

some people i thought might want to be tagged :)

@strangerstilinski @astoriaviviane @lana08 @florence-end @lportes-22 @torrick17 @florencemtrash @sidthedollface2 @seafrost-fangirl @goldenmagnolias @jeweline16 @meshellexplosionmurder @michellexgriffey @susiekern @toobsessedsstuff @fxckmiup @littlebookbengal @elenapril0502 @glitterypirateduck @hnyclover @technoelfie @itsapunklife @coffeecares

#it got very long... i'm sorry!#we can't talk about bad miscommunication and then me not set up valid reasons for miscommunication tho #i can't DO IT #azriel a big softie in this one...#i mean he always is :)#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel hurt/comfort #miscommunication #idiots in luv <3 #i need a writing tag.....

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captainfern · 5 months

Note

fern I have horny thoughts to help! soft!simon who cannot keep his hands off reader EVER. but especially during sex, whispering so much fucking praise while he fucks reader all gently :((

(i need him so bad)

soft!simon is the best simon <3

18+, fem!reader

simon had one large hand on your hip, holding you nice and steady beneath him as he rocked against you, cock rutting gently in and out of the heat of your cunt. his other hand held your own near your head, your eyes locked onto his.

his pace was slow— you could feel every subtle ridge and velveteen vein along his cock as he fucked you, your walls squeezing around him. his cock split you open, stretching you open, but he was so gentle with you. he always was.

simon’s grunts were morphing into whines as he pressed himself against you, his pelvis rubbing up against yours, your nipples brushing over his chest. he ducked his head to kiss up your neck, sucking at the curve of your jaw as his cock continued to pump in and out of you.

he moaned quietly in your ear. “god, y’just such a good girl, sweetheart. you’re bein’ so good for me, aren’t you? my good girl, takin’ all ‘f my cock.”

you whispered and nodded as he continued rutting into you. his pace was so slow and gentle, each drag making you keen against him. the head of his cock jutted up against the base of your womb, pulling more and more airy sounds from your throat.

your fingers gripped and squeezed at the pliable, muscular planes of simon’s bare back. he groaned into your neck, kissing and sucking, fingers holding your hand tight, the other rubbing soft circles on your waist.

“my perfect girl, an’ this perfect body, hm? aren’t you just the prettiest thing? an’ all mine, too. this pretty body’s all mine—” simon’d pulled out of your neck now, looking down at you with love in his eyes. his hands wandered now, flitting over the soft curves of your tummy. he continued to hold your hand. “just perfect, baby. so fuckin’ pretty.”

your cunt squeezed around him, arousal already leaking down the soft flesh of your thighs. simon moaned loudly, feeling the wetness against his own legs as he fucked you leisurely into the mattress. he swooped down to kiss you— sucking on your tongue, biting at your bottom lip and moaning into your mouth.

simon’s hand was back on your hip now, holding you as his cock split you open. his thrusts hadn’t picked up, but they struck deep. each roll of his hips knocked the head of his cock against that sweet spot inside you, making you moan out for him.

he moaned your name too as his release built. “i love you so much, baby. just love you— ah, ah fuck— love y-you so much. takin’ it so well, my gorgeous girl. this pretty little pussy’s takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well— oh, fuck— fuck, yeah baby, that’s it, give it to me. come all over my cock. that’s a good girl, there you go, come all over my cock, baby.”

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #cod ghost #call of duty #cod smut

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daughterofyore · 1 year

Text

George and the Pond.

King George x f!reader

[[Queen Charlotte (Netflix)]]

category; heavy smut, fluff, angst (lil bit)

wc; 2,249

music inspired;- apocalypse

a/n:: George has a manic episode by the pond, you manage to calm him and he’s so thankful for you he fucks you to show it :)

TW!: NSFW, George porphyria episode (Venus), heavy smut, breeding kink, Good ol fast sex

Venus begged George to find her. She pleaded with him to search, to save her. She was his one true love. She needed him! He ran through the palace grounds, in the distance behind him there was a cacophony of shouts, someone begging for him to turn around. It was Venus’ ex lovers, surely. They didn’t understand the love they shared, the adoration of their coupling. Her beautiful, pale skin and blemished face. Glowing like a fading star against the ebony blanket of the night sky. An infinite amount of white blazing stars surrounding her like a halo in all her glory. Oh, how he longed to be by her side. How he dared to get closer to her. He needed to feel her glow upon his skin, so without a moments hesitation he ripped his clothes from his skin. Silk pyjamas made of the finest lapis lazuli blue discarded into the mud of the pond. He raised his arms to her, crying for her to join him on this mortal plane. For the goddess of love to bless him with her prowess. He could feel her compassionate deposition seep into his very pores, touching his bare, sculpted body. Casting shadows along the dips and ridges of his muscles.

“George!” You cried out to him, watching as he bared his body to the entire garden. Reynolds raced ahead of you, reaching before you could. You were still adorned in your glittering evening gown. Made of a deep fiery scarlet, as if it was made of the last embers of a great fire. Silver lining cascaded down its centre and bodice, elaborate lace adorning the contrasting peachy cream underskirt. It flew around you as you gathered the skirt into your arms, heels clicking off the cobbles and then sinking into the finely kept lawns. You stumbled and struggled to reach your husband, you could see his eyes glistening as he stared at the planet Venus. He cried of his love to her, his devotion. How is it I don’t receive that love? You scoffed, a moment of clarity as you were still unsure as to why he acted this way. You had suspected it for some time now, his comings and goings from Kew. The secrecy surrounding him and the protectiveness of not only Reynolds but his mother too.

Your voice was like an arrow through the fog, piercing the hazy clouds in his peripherals. Venus seemed to fade into the background as he spun to look at you. You weren’t Venus, you were you. Shining brighter than she ever could. As he watched you approach, the sparkles glittering from your dress enraptured him. He felt himself falling in your direction, before a voice called him to turn around. Venus, competitive as always. She challenged you for his attention. He laughed incredulously, how lucky was he to be fought over by the Goddess of Love and her rival? Reynolds stood at his side, begging helplessly for him to return to the castle. He gathered his clothes in his hand, looking at him with a pleading gaze. Continuously he requested for the King to go inside, tried to reason with him. You knew you had never seen this before but maybe, just maybe he would recognise you.

You reached his side, letting go of your dress. It fell on his feet and pressed into his calves. He turned to you, eyes wide, hyperventilating. “You won-“ He whispered looking at you, as if it was the first time he truly saw you. He turned towards the sky, laughing. “You lost Venus! Imagine that!” He returned to face you but upon seeing your worried expression, his celebrations halted. “How come you are not happy? You have won, have you not?”

“George, it’s time we go inside now.”

“What, why? The night is beautiful we-“

“George, Venus has lost this game but I would prefer to celebrate with you indoors.” He stood very still for a moment, dark brows scrunching together as he tried to concentrate and discern exactly what you were implying. His brain felt jumbled, mixed and confused. Like he wasn’t allowed to understand, as if there was a black alabaster wall separating from the here and there.

“I wish to stay here. Let’s celebrate here.” You paused and gazed at him, studying him carefully. You spun to Reynolds.

“Cover the windows and leave his clothes here. Ensure nobody enters these grounds or can see us.” Reynolds pressed his lips into a thin line before muttering a ‘Yes, your majesty.’ He left, grabbing Brimsley by the elbow and guiding him indoors. You turned back to George, your husband. Your king. You rested a gentle hand on his chest, and he stilled. He sucked in a devastating shaky breath before raising his arms to hold your shoulders.

“You, you saw- oh, wife I- oh I am so sorry.” His eyes began to water, a new clarity crossing them. His face slackened, now an evident frown replacing his once maniacal smile. You hushed him, gently guiding him to your chest as you snaked comforting arms around him. You held him in your embrace, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he let silent sobs escape him. He sniffled, clutching onto the fabric of your dress as he eventually sunk to his knees. “My dear I am so sorry, I am sorry I have avoided you. That I have tried to hide I-“ He couldn’t get his words out but you put a comforting hand on his head. Intertwining your fingers with his brown locks, you gently massaged his scalp.

“Do not apologise George. I understand you. I am here for you. Come, let us lie and look at the stars together.” You smiled at him, holding his hand and laying on the lawn. He tentatively lay beside you, he finally noticed his nakedness and his hands rushed to cover himself. You once again shushed him, grabbing the many layers of your skirts and draping them across his waist. “No need to worry about what I have seen before darling.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled, sucking in a breath after as he looked to the sky.

“I could be married to a pompous wench right now, who wouldn’t give a damn about me. Who would run in the opposite direction if she saw what I did tonight..” he turned his head, gazing at you. You met his eyes and smiled. “Yet you stay, you lie with me. Why?”

“I believe I see myself in you. Trapped, misunderstood.” You took a shivering breath. “Sometimes all we need is a little kindness and a show of stability. I wish to be that for you.” His eyes began to glaze, he sucked in his bottom lip as it began to quiver.

He turned on his side, a new light coming to his eyes. Slowly he raised a leg to bend at an angle across your thighs. Bracing himself on an elbow he gazed at you. His face inches from you. “I do not know what I have done to deserve a woman such as you.” Slowly he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You reciprocated it, lips merely mingling before he slipped his tongue across them, asking for entry. You obliged, parting your lips as his tongue slipped by. He licked the bottom of your teeth, before dancing around your tongue with his. He sucked on your lip, biting it gently and sucking the sting away. You gasped, a hand travelling up his side. You could feel his muscles shiver at your touch, he manoeuvred over you, straddling your hips. His cock pressed against your stomach, hardening. His hands travelled up your sides before reaching your breasts. They were secured behind the corset of your evening gown, yet he managed to push a hand down its front and grope one. He massaged it in his hand, loving the mass and softness of it. His kiss deepened, he peppered them along your jaw and to your collarbone. Reaching your cleavage he looked at you mischievously, recalling his hand and replacing its absence with long, sensuous licks across the top of your breasts. His tongue travelled over them, then between. He licked up from your cleavage to your throat, to your lips. Kissing you again before he backed down, grabbing your skirts.

“And I you, my queen.”

You were breathing heavy, barely able to control the growing heat intensifying between your legs. A steady throb as it begged for attention. Your core tightening in angst of what was to come. This was what your wedding night should’ve been, but you didn’t care. This, this was better. Laying on the cool grass beneath a bright moon and stars that reflected off of a still pond. This was bliss. George hiked your skirts up, laying them across your midriff. He bowed down again, grabbing your pantyhose and pulling them down to expose bare thighs. He looked at you over the mound of skirts, smirking. “Are you alright my love, may I continue?” You nod, breath escaping you. You peered up at the stars between the foliage of the cherry blossom tree. George dipped his head between your thighs, gently pushing them apart. He kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin, licking the sting away again once more.

Agonisingly slow he made his way to your centre, licking over the underwear covering you. He raised a hand, rubbing a finger between your folds and feeling the wetness seep the fabric. He grinned, pushing a finger into you and watching you arch your back. He kept the underwear on, watching you squirm as he teased you. Ever so slowly he retracted the finger, dragging it up and pressing it to your clit. Your juices soaked the fabric now, it clung to your very shape. You jolted at the contact, the pressure on your clit making you pull away. He grabbed your left leg, putting it over his shoulder and gripping your thigh to hold you in place. He spread you with a knee, continuously exploring you over the whimsy barrier of your panties. You moaned, trying to move but he held you firmly in place. “Are you ready wife? Ready for me to take you?” You nod feverishly, his ministrations have built a fiery ache in your core. Begging for his attention. Your cunt wept as it pleaded for him to enter it, to give it attention. George smirked, gently taking your hands and pulling you up. He stepped behind you and made short work of the lace up your back. He quickly pulled the dress off, then the undergarments until finally you were bare before him. He smiled, standing back and admiring you. “My beautiful wife, in all her glory.” His eyes were ravenous, without a moments hesitation he was back between your legs. He kneeled, grabbing your hips he hoisted you into an awkward position, your legs dangled above his shoulders while you lay only on your shoulders and head. He held you in his grip, his lips placing tender kisses across your cunt. He licked, slow as of tasting your every essence. His tongue slipped into you, to which he began to lick inside you. He left it begging for more and turned his attention to your clit again. It throbbed for him, and he knew it did. He wrapped an arm around your leg, balancing your ass against his chest as he spread you with two fingers. He began to taste you, sucking on your clit. He nipped it, sucking it better straight after. You squirmed in his grasp but he still held you firmly, refusing to let you move. He lapped at your pussy like a thirsty dog, drinking you up. He turned his attention back to your clit, sucking intensely on it. You moaned, cried out his name. He seemed to only grow more excited and you could feel his length pressing into the small of your back. He sucked, and sucked, and sucked until finally the growing tension ruptured. You screamed his name, yet he continued to suck and lick you through the orgasm. You were trembling at the end, and he lay you down, kissing your stomach. He looked up at you as you threaded fingers through his hair. “I’m going to put a baby in you, my queen.” He smirked and you swore it nearly undid you again. He sat back on his knees, his cock long and hard as it stood. He grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. He grabbed his dick, rubbing it’s tip along your slit. He pressed a firm hand down on your stomach as he slowly pushed his way in without any warning. You stretched, moaning around him. His sheer size pushing you close to ecstasy.

Once he was in he let loose a shivering sigh, looking back to you. “Are you alright my love?” You nodded, placing a hand on his as it pressed into your stomach. He could feel the faint mass of his cock in you, it turned him on even more. Slowly, he pulled out and pushed back in again. Keeping a slow and steady rhythm till you had adjusted. Once he could feel you relax, he began to pound into you. Growing in intensity. Gasps of air escapes him each time he fucks you. You were a moaning mess, barely able to breathe. Your breasts bounced up and down at the ferocity he pounded into you. His balls clapped off your ass, sounding through the garden. You felt like you were in heaven. He looked up at you and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it. He pinched your nipple, pulling it slightly as he fucked you. You were in ecstasy. Every inch of your being burning, yearning for his touch. He grabbed your hips, spinning you around to be on all fours as he stayed inside you. He gripped your hips and continued his merciless fucking. “George! Oh fuck George-“ You screamed for him, moaning his name.

“I’m going to cum inside you pretty queen-“ He moaned your name, deep and guttural. “And watch you grow with our child, our heir.” You cried out for him again, and it was all he needed to slam himself into without mercy, he reached a hand around you, rubbing your clit with no remorse. It was so intense you couldn’t think straight.

“George I- George I’m going to cum!”

“Do it, do it for me my queen. Do it together.” He moaned above you, continuing his ministrations. The pair of you cried out, heads thrown back in ecstasy. You orgasmed, and he spilled his seed into you. It’s warmth spreading through your core. He stayed in you for a moment, breathing deeply. You were gasping for air below him. Eventually he slid out, pulling you down to lay beside him. He held you close, running a lazy hand up and down your side.

“My beautiful Queen, fucked by the garden pond.”

#king george iii #king george bridgerton #king george x reader #king george x f!reader #queen Charlotte #queen Charlotte x reader #king George smut #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton series #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton fanfiction #queen charlotte fanfiction

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pinkrelish · 10 months

Note

Eddie and miss mouse doing missionary with his hands beside her head and she grabs his wrists moving her head side to side moaning and him begging her to look at him in the eye 👁️

ugh, yes. 18+ sweet, romantic smut [wc: 1.4k]

humming praise along your jaw, he asks from his husky throat not yet warmed from dawn, “please, baby,” and you nod, “—don't wantcha missin' your god.”

oh, how you explore him without sight, skimming your fingers over the smooth length of his back, planes of muscle filling your palms with steady breaths. from the sway which dips with each long draw of his hips. up bumps of spine, curve of ribcage. contrasts of solid strength feeding into the hidden lurch beneath his skin, subtle contours shifting and flowing in sync with his lazy thrusts. shoulders. working man shoulders, broadened by time and labor, flexing under your loose grip. hard shapes for your hands to find; groove of his delt, swell of his bicep. strong arms beginning to shake.

you lower your sightless study to his forearms. fingertips grazing through prairie grass hair leading you over the ridge of an at-home tattoo and through the field of faint scars. upon his knuckles, you widen your reach to encompass them all, falling short. falling weak. falling, falling.

stability was found in his mighty palm to your cheek. stifling hot, big, and rough with character. everything familiar you sought in a home, cherishing the doorway between forefinger and thumb, trailing open kisses to the bed of his palm—three pecks for good luck, and one to grow on—then feasting on the meat above his wrist, and bathing your warm tongue over the rest.

"makin' you feel good?" eddie checks to inflate his ego, brimming with amusement. "or's here better?" his abs brace, his knees move in, and your body clings to a shiver. "mm, right there, huh?" his tender tease flows into the kindest sigh.

he peels his stomach off yours, chilling your combined sweat and tightening your nipples with the rush of air. sharp teeth flirt on the pulse beneath your ear as he adjusts, uncoordinated, rocking an arm under your shoulder and tugging the fitted sheet loose on the mattress; his other hand slips up to cradle your head, protecting you from the old oak headboard while your pillow lifts your hips.

the position loads his weight where he pins you best—embraced in his arms, wholly respected. your leglock around his ass restricts him down to a fraction of his long draw from before. he understands. the ache he stirred with his practiced fingers crooked between your thighs reached a yearn for something bigger, and when he sank into you, half an hour ago, you expressed your satisfaction in a whisper-thin gasp. "that's it," he kissed. to be stretched by his head notched at your opening, easing in, splitting you, fulfilling you, reaching a depth which was made for him. "that's fuckin' it," he moans in the present when you clench firmer around him.

the pretty noises you made then, when he could last, earned his pride. now, they spur his pace.

you dig your heels into his backside and cradle him close, tilting your hips; wet friction grinding bliss against your core. the warmth of his body smothers you, and the wiry hair above his solid base follows the same quick roll, lapping at you like his tongue. you seek foundation beyond the darkness of your eyelids, turning your mouth to the hand on your shoulder, sucking a kiss on the peak of knuckles. his polished skill between your legs spark deep, fluttering moans. the angle was a work of trial and error over the years, but eddie was ever diligent to learn—eager, you'd say—to delay his release, and build yours.

consuming throbs of hot pleasure pulse within you. each stroke is better than the last. the pillow, the angle, the extra twitch of his cock when you squeeze around him just right. you were—"eddie, i'm—"

"look at me, baby," he asks, and you switch to pursuing his other hand, slotting your small fingers through the gaps where he worsened your bedhead. "open your eyes. wanna look at you," he laughs, mashing his nose along the blooming fever on your cheek, draping his curls over you both. it takes all your strength to answer him in an inarticulate whine, nestling into his palm until he understands the message and caresses his thumb over your temple. "please," he begs. you try. yet, he demands, stern voice pooling molten lust where he delivers relentless smacks of skin, "look at me when i'm your god."

your eyes fly open.

sleepy blue on the cusp of yawning orange presses through the thin curtains. light floods his smugness in swings between his long hair, stupid shadowed grin glinting in the daybreak. his curls tickle in sweeps across your cheeks, and at once, your weak limbs are threaded in the space where your chests press, and you're bringing him down for a rough kiss, teeth to lips, dirty like the sounds drowning out the birdsong.

muffled moans grow loud as he pulls away, just enough to adore you in the cage of his arms, watching you battle the haze while his eyes shine from vanity. his muscles burn from fatigue, and his smile interrupts his panting, cutting each labored breath with a stutter, but he keeps going, chasing the reason your expression pinches.

it comes on so strong, so fast, you clamp down on him hard, and though he expects it, eddie's whine is punched from his lungs, surprising you both. the pretty sound lends you strength, and he nearly collapses from every wet ridge massaging him as he grinds slow and steady in your heat, driven deeper by your assertive legs forcing him to bite his tongue as you rode out your high. he's dying. "baby," he pleas, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, sweat mixing on his damp bangs, soft body squirming under his, "y'look so fuckin' hot. can i?" poor boy asking to finish.

you soothe him in circles scratched on his scalp while he stills from motion, sighs jumping in time with the aftershocks pulsing on his length. the feeling of weightlessness was taking over. showing mercy, you release him, and he rises. careful as he can be in this state. fast, fast, fast, hiking you higher on the pillow and keeping you in place with one hand on your hip and the other cupped under your thigh, dimpling shadows in the sunrise. strong torso between your legs, top of his stomach flexing on every slap, sending ripples over your skin. light penetrates the center of the curtains to paint his beauty. flushed red, head dropped forward, messy hair kissing his shoulders, long lashes marrying, succumbing to whatever his body decides. watching himself slide into you, mouth hanging open at the sight of your pussy gripping him as he rocks back, upper lip lifting at the sheen of cream coating the base of his slick cock, eyebrows scrunching from the honor.

he picks up the urgency in which he's fucking you, each moan cracking higher.

"look at me," you break his concentration, voice not as powerful as his. he obeys, and the connection races an extra heartbeat in your chest, throat gone tight from the sense of accomplishment.

nothing compares to the flattery of his lidded gaze fighting to stay open as his warning comes late, already spilling into you.

wicked heat spreads in waves, burning your cheeks, pumping your reward in arrhythmic pulses. his tip is oversensitive and red when he pulls out, covered in a beautiful shine. he gives you the pillow, and adjusts himself so his length follows your stomach; though he takes a sharp inhale at the sensation; and lays on top of you, stretching his legs between yours. the magnitude of his understated working-man muscles go lax. amalgamating scents of sex encompass the tangle. birdsong rings through the blood rush. you hum, he hums.

"love starting our days like this."

"mhmm."

you revisit discovering him without sight. his weight limits your movement as he catches his breath from his efforts, but you encircle his middle. trace the tacky skin along his spine, roll your head to feel his curly hair sticking to the dew on your neck, rub your foot along his hairy calf. you lean up to press your lips to the salty crest of his shoulder, and end the motion when thick honey drips to the bedsheets. his spent self softens on your belly. you almost drift into a dream. "you're so corny with the 'god' line," you complain in a whisper, only a tad annoyed, and he sweetens you with his full lips smacking a noisy kiss to your cheek.

"yeah, but it worked," he replies, voice retaining its rasp from sleep, yet sporting a teasing rise, "and you still love me."

"and i still love you," you yield, rolling your closed eyes.

"do you?"

"i do."

"good," he huffs, "didn't wanna lose my grocery shopping partner."

you roll your closed eyes harder.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #the yes policy

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fayeriess · 6 months

Text

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ ON A PILLOW OF

GRASS AND DANDELIONS ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

astarion ancunin x fem!reader

summary: you and astarion take much-needed time to yourselves in a field kissed by the sun. blueberries are the fruit of the occassion, as messy and sticky as they were. sometimes though, messy is a good thing.

warnings: 18+, smut, oral, ejaculation, deep-throating (??), a bit of nipple play if you squint hard enough, astarion's very vocal ( i don't make the rules ), astarion licks fruit juice off reader's chest, slight worshipping, not proof-read

a/n: wrote this at two am with a foggy mind and rusty smut skills. but alas, here's a small gift of an idea that refused to leave me. now, i can rest easily, bless.

The sun - a ball of fire in the abyss of the sky - is the brightest star. It burns the surface of your skin in vibrant rays of light, warming you from the inside; and setting you aflame. It wasn’t a foreign feeling, just one you learned to appreciate in the years you’ve been on this plane, a hug without drastic intentions, a heated embrace. Aside from the fruit in your hand; cobalt in color, soft-skinned, ripe, and dripping sour juices. It pools on the surface of your tongue alongside sugary essence once the sharp ridges of teeth puncture through; mixing in with warm spit, tricking down the chin and onto the expanse of your chest, loose, low-cut blouse leaving little to the imagination.

The feeling you get from it is almost erotic, you think, as your lover laps at stray sweetness making its way to the base of your neck, right under the spot he adored so very much. The wet muscle of his tongue skims across your collarbone, his long, cold fingers hovering above your hip, the other keeping himself steady, hand sinking into the softness of the sheet below. His touches give off a certain urgency although his actions show otherwise. Astarion wants to take his time with you; albeit having seemingly all the time in existence to do so.

A sigh escapes your lips involuntarily, airy as the hairs on your arms raise every millisecond that his body inches closer to yours, craving skin-to-skin through the thin layers of fabric. It causes you to straighten your spine, almost as if you were a stick wedged in damp soil, letting it mold further into you, keeping your soul in place. Every single bone within you was practically screaming. They didn’t mind being constricted like this, a small jumble of voices bouncing back and forth.

It made you chuckle, a sound that had him humming against your skin in curiosity. “What’s so funny, my love?”

Smiling, you lock your irises onto a cluster of stray curls above you, hand moving to twist around them - an action that makes him visibly shiver.

“I’m supposed to be feeding you.”

With a raise of his head, you could see just how big his pupils had dilated, ruby eyes just a shade or two darker than usual. His low-lidded gaze traveled down toward the valley of your chest, a purple tint left in streaks adorning your collarbone; evidence of his affection. “Are you not already?”

You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you shuffle about next to him on your side, propping your chin on the palm of your hand, elbow digging into the ground beneath the white linen of the sheet. “No, you’re far too busy being a tease.”

At your words, he chuckled, face dropping to the left side of your neck with such swiftness that you raised your hips further into his at the feeling of plump lips on your pulse point. Although you couldn’t see him anymore, the way his fingers squeezed at your clothed hip told you everything you needed to know.

“If you wanted me to bite you, all you had to do was ask.”

A breathy sigh left your lips, nails moving from his silver curls down to his back, his tunic wrinkling under your touch, preventing him from escaping. Hot white heat pooled in your lower stomach; a longing to have him touch you in your most intimate of places - desperately. Desire envelops you whole, just like the sparkle of the sun.

“Please Astarion….”

Shivering at the coolness of his lips against your neck, your face grew hot in sudden embarrassment. The organ that was your heart hammered erratically in your sternum as he sucked on your flesh, setting your skin ablaze in a way where it was somewhat painful… a delectable pinch as his fangs pierced the skin.

Astarion was no stranger to drinking your lifeblood, and the act itself wasn’t a rare occurrence. He enjoyed it - no, he craved it as if it were the finest, most expensive brand of wine he had ever tasted in all his years. It satiated his thirst.

His cheeks hallowed as he sucked once - twice more before pulling away, thumbing at the corner of his lip before parting his lips, tucking his bloody thumb into the heat of his mouth. “Delicious…”

Astarion was sure that his body had started to relax as your blood flowed through his veins, sloshing around in the confines of his belly as if he were a drunkard.

The ridges of your front teeth sunk into the pillowed flesh of your bottom lip, and you watched cautiously as he toyed with the edges of his tunic, lifting it to his naval. Slight hesitation embedded itself in his hands before he flexed them a bit, ridding himself of the fabric completely. Despite having been bare in front of you countless times - even if not fully on display, he found himself growing somewhat small under your fixated look, opting to stand and plop himself in a bed of grass a couple of feet away.

He extended his arms outward, blades of deep green tickling his knuckles, creating an itch that he refused to scratch. Filling his mouth with fresh air, his chest rose before deflating, the hairs in his nose burning. “Sometimes, I forget how to breathe.”

Lashes fan against his skin as he closes his eyes, his undead lungs trying to find a comfortable rhythm, steady. You can’t help but admire him from your place, eyebrows unfurrowing from their constant state of distress.

The light had moved in his direction, clouds changing their position to make way as it shone down on his figure, drawn to him like magnets to metal. It casts shadows on his face, carving out every gentle dip of his abs, the flexing of his biceps as he raises a hand in front of his face, blocking his vision from the viciousness of it all. Instead of irritation filling his undead heart, it was a foreign sense of calamity. A feeling that he held dear for as long as it lingered.

“This feels nice.”

His ears perk at the sound of your feet crunching grass, alongside the periodic chirping of birds perched on enormous tree branches above. A gust of wind weaved through tendrils of curls, seeping into his scalp, metaphorically dousing him in cold water. For a second, he indulged in the thought of bathing in a nearby lake wherever camp was set up for the night, taking his time to let it take over every inch of his body.

A clench of his stomach muscles sends his eyes shooting open, neck craning to stare down at your hand traveling down the ‘v’ of his naval, tracing patterns on the way. Your unexpected compliment was nothing but a whisper in the wind that made the tips of his ears grow as red as his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” Leaning down between his wide legs, your sticky lips graced his icy skin, sending a jolt of heat through him, a gasp caught in his throat as you painstakingly peppered his abdomen in an abundance of kisses.

Astarion was by no means ashamed when it came to eliciting pretty noises in response to your touch; need apparent in the way his head fell back, cushioned by grass and a halo of dandelions, his adams apple bobbing as your fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants.

“Let me worship you Astarion. You deserve to be tasted.”

He propped himself on an elbow, staring down at you with an expression that could only be described as that of some sort of challenge at your request, his unoccupied hand stretching out to grip your chin loosely in his hands, fingers tapping on the fullness of your cheeks. “Needy little thing.”

The low tone of his voice caused you to rub your thighs together, trying to soothe the developing ache between them, a feeling you knew wouldn’t go away unless he helped you - until he conjured every single facet of his love and adoration for you to the tips of his fingers. “Who am I to refuse my love’s desires?”

Loosening his grip on your face, he allowed you to tug at the fabric of his pants, lifting his hips slightly as you shed them off of him completely, fingers dancing up his thighs, eyes greedily taking in his cock that lay hard before you, slightly curved and sensitive. His tip glistened with wetness that formed a waterfall of saliva in your mouth to coat him with.

It practically begged for attention, some sort of relief that you were more than willing to give by darting out your tongue, bobbing your head down his length, and taking him down your throat as far as you could.

Through spit-covered teeth, Astarion hissed lightly as you palmed him gently, the extra layers of skin doing little to help him catch his breath. It stretched at every tug of your hand, at every bob of your head as you took him further in your mouth, cheeks hollow and mouth wet, shining under mustard yellow hues from the surrounding landscape of the hidden field.

He was fucking perfect lying beneath you like this, devoid of any sharp remarks, and scandalous comments - just a blubbering mess. A man formed by all things precious, and a subtle sort of stunning.

“Gods, just like that, pet.” He bucked his hips upward, hitting the back of your throat so violently that you gagged, an encouraging hum causing his cock to throb in the expanse of your warm mouth.

He could stay here forever, your lips closed around him, cheeks stained with tears, fingers from your other hand tracing figure eights on his pubic bone to occupy yourself further with pleasing him. Even with a brain filled with endless fog, the pale elf couldn’t recount the last time you had sucked him as if your entire existence depended solely on his pleasure.

Hell, he wasn’t complaining at all. The noises escaping his esophagus were more than enough proof, and you were more than happy to make it known.

You swirled your tongue around his tip, gathering the taste of him, pubic hairs tickling your nostrils as the tip of your nose made contact with the base of his shaft. His lower stomach couldn’t help but clench tightly, only contracting when your lips widened, jaw slacking as you quickened your pace.

White heat coiled in his stomach, a sensation so euphoric to him that his back arched slightly, brows furrowing, a chorus of broken, muffled cries leaving his parted lips. He released his seed, spurting his arousal down your throat, something you swallowed without hesitation as you pulled away from him.

Finding the strength to open his eyes, Astarion narrowed them at the white puff of clouds painting the sky above through vibrant leaves, a tingle vibrating throughout his body as you straddled his hips, rocking against him gently as he peaked at you. “Isn’t there something else you crave?”

The flesh of your mouth meets his pointed ear and his spine grows rigid, then he shudders in anticipation, in desire. His hands are under your blouse before you can utter anything else, following the dip of your lower back as you press yourself against him.

“I want to be inside of you.”

There it was.

The seven words you’ve been wanting to hear ever since he took your hand and whisked you away into the horizon, a basket full of berries that currently sat discarded somewhere around the crumpled blanket, rotting away in the heat.

“I’d rip this off of you if you’d let me.” He whispered, thumbing at your shirt, hair tousled and out of its usual format of precise placement.

He looked like heaven. He tasted like heaven. He felt like heaven.

It was a mantra that you repeated in your head as he discarded the shirt that covered the swell of your breasts, nipples perking when he pinched them between his fingers, taking one of them in his mouth almost immediately after as if he were still famished.

Fidgeting with the ends of your long skirt, you bunched the fabric up your thighs, fingers disappearing under the material to move your soaked underwear to the side, throbbing with need. “You know I would if the circumstances were different.”

Ah, yes, the fact that you two were fucking like rabbits out in the open. A thrill that never ceased to make your heart beat quickly no matter how many times you both found yourselves in this position.

“Yet you’re letting me take you in broad daylight.”

It was hard not to smile at that.

After all, he did have a point.

tags: @tallymonster, @astariongf, @scandalcus

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #astarion x you #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion smut #astarion x tav

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anantaru · 11 months

Text

— how he kisses you

including alhaitham, heizou, scaramouche, xiao x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, xiao's is kinda embarrassing idk he doesn't have a clue, making out mwah mwah

— alhaitham + easy but calculated

focus, please focus, alhaitham was divulging inwardly, and he was aware that if you noticed the slight nervousness perching in his settling limbs and muscles right now, you would most definitely have an ecstatic blast of embarrassingly badgering him for what would feel like an eternity.

in the general run of things, he took most things in his life vastly easy and tremendously undemanding, without overthinking them under any circumstances. your boyfriend alhaitham has long since grasped on that adding unsought energy into individual aspects in his life were mostly never ensuing in good results.

but he cannot shake off the calculated nature of himself, not even when he rounds his lips on top of yours. essentially the route he took, holding your face gently in his large palms before pulling you a tilt closer for about three seconds, pressing his lips on you just a teeny tiny bit more, before leaving the pressure to decline.

you sigh out heavenly, then slant forward into his body, your lips spaciously molded around his own as alhaitham sneakily gnaws down on your bottom lip, pulling away before catching a hold of his own breathing. the subtle ridge of a blush, brilliantly red— describing the passion in his heart that he experienced when a magnetic force pulled you together.

it's always stronger than anything you’ve both felt before whenever you kiss, whenever you find yourself comforted by his lips and trace, his thumbs crowning your cheeks and the implications of it all.

seeing alhaitham like this— how he was enjoying himself with you and how much you reveled in benevolently watching him.

you answer the fullness of his tongue demanding entrance as you slightly part your lips, shaping your wet muscle against him while extending your hands to find true haven in his soft hair, sculpturing your nails into his scalp, distantly, but enough so he'd heave out a deep sigh. occasionally you're pulling him back by his strands, so you could look at him low lidded, out of breath with bleary eyes, something which will stuck in your mind forever.

— heizou + fast and exciting

heizou might get lost in your kisses, just a little. because while he was kissing you, he never felt more alive and his mind rewired when you hug him tight, traversing your physical distance in less time than it took to blink yourself into a marvelous dream.

for that, he will forever be yours.

your erratic breaths weave together at each new amassed sweep of his tongue, your eyes remaining latched shut while you litter your arms around his neck to keep him as near as possible, meantime his rosy fragrance— scenting of sweet sakura blooms on a warm evening in inazuma city, was planing over your flaring nostrils and made his impressive presence feel all the more intensely.

all the more— meaningful.

directly, you ruffle your fingers into his hair in midst the obvious heaviness of heizou's expressing and dominating kisses, while his thumbs stroke along the outline of your cheek to shift you into him.

you can taste it, a little smile bridging over his lips, anew, when you tug on his hair, although gently, he sought after feeling it again. he gasps at another tug and you take the opportunity to nip on his bottom lip, only gently, but adding a dot of pressure for good and sweet measure.

with the nuance of this spontaneous act, which was usually quite unplanned and all over the place— wether it be the shy, awkward giggles or his eagerness to touch and cherish every inch of you, he was also skilled and indulgently exciting to you and whenever it was you doing something like this to him instead, heizou could see himself become consigned to oblivion.

it makes his mouth water.

no thoughts, no focus, only passion and the pain of wanting more each minute.

he's devilish, bending you forward into his lap, and his depictions of love were never idle. in outline, your expression must've been telling him that much, that you wouldn't want it any other way.

— scaramouche + nervous but passionate

if it were somehow possible to him, scaramouche would certainly scream into a pillow right now, over and over until his lungs would give up on him. he‘s abstrusely nervous— profoundly frazzled in his shoulders and lower back as he notices how you‘re inclining into his chest, fractionally, one at a time until perfectly screened in his arms.

he doesn‘t want to mess it up nor overdo it or screw it up or what about exaggerate it or— hold on, kuni's panicking again, quite jittery as he pulls away from you for a second, catching you off guard— it‘s twice as much embarrassing now, when you look at him disoriented.

what a damned nonsense, he huffs out, how hard could kissing possibly be?

"are you okay?" the concern was trammeling in your frame and manifesting in your tonality, "we can stop if you want."

but how does he tell you that there was nothing in this world he'd genuinely loathe more than stopping this right now, not when it felt so bloody exhilarating to him.

"no." scaramouche coughs, "no, no." although realizing he answered a little too quick.

you back away a little to give him enough space but he holds you in his gentle arms instead, as if scared you'd leave entirely, "don't stop." and he closes his eyes now, taking a deep breath before pulling you back into his lips. audibly this time, you whine into him but let yourself float in his content motions.

once you're in his warp, you leave it to scaramouche to control and manage how he saw fit, so he could experiment but also focus on what you preferred.

you slowly lick across his tongue, tilting your head a little, and something in your chest unbuttons when you place attention towards the feathery whines your boyfriend would huff out ever so lightly, signalizing that he's unhurriedly finding more confidence now.

another shiver quells inwardly, a slight weakening of the knees and you're on a thread— he's flawless at it, passionate and so content that you were surprised on how skilled he was at kissing and soothing your lips, still nervous but wanting, wanting to show you how insatiable you really were to him.

— xiao + erratic and eager

for xiao, it‘s all about learning and understanding about what you would be more partial to— yet he forgets about himself and entirely focuses on you, more often than you'd prefer.

which, in hindsight, wasn‘t a bad thing per se, but, you had to repeatedly mime and indicate that you wanted him to feel good and loved as well. to a large extent was kissing something very intimate and it's shared by two, not kept to one.

his bare lips are hot on top of yours, scorching and eager, while his movements were erratic and modestly sloppy at first, but your boyfriend was a fast learner and refrained from bumping his teeth against your own pearly whites. yet you're patient, very much so, kissing silent words into his mouth as xiao adds his tongue, muffling, almost pleading, motions telling you things words never could scratch on.

his hands tremble against your hips, each gnaw of his fingers digging past your flesh brought every nerve in your body to a complete standstill and your brain locked in electricity— up till now, why he was holding onto you this strongly was not necessarily due to nervousness or due to him being anxious, but xiao simply did not know were to put them or what to do with them.

but it's cute, his actions and shyness, you want to kiss and kiss and kiss him forever.

once more have you pulled away to plant a playful mirage of kisses on his parted lips, worshipping his pretty features— your sweet lover was wholly out of breath while leaning back into the couch, exposing his bobbing adams apple to you and taking note to go a dab slower next time, or well, after you kiss him again.

but when you do, when you plunge back into this lips at last, a deep, simmering sort of proclamation saunters into his chest, taking him by surprise and building in gentle enlargements of transparent love into his body.

xiao truly longed to burn that feeling into his mind forever and reminisce about it whenever you aren't together.

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brainddeadd · 6 days

Text

Worshiping Him

smut - body worship, praise kink, slight overstimulation, kinda subby yoongi/dom reader

Yoongi is lying down when you come home. He's sleepy, wearing some shorts you bought him and nothing else.

"Hi baby," his smile is dopey, his body relaxed, and you smile when you see him. "How was your day?"

"Better now that I've seen you," your voice is teasing, but you mean it.

"What's that look on your face for?" He knows what you want, he can tell, but he wants to hear you say it. Instead of answering, you pull off your work clothes and sit next to him on the bed, huffing from the effort after a long day. He runs his palm up your back soothingly, he knows you'll answer him when you're ready.

"I want-" you flush bright red.

"Baby, it's me." He's gentle, encouraging. "Nothing you say will be embarrassing or shameful."

"I want to worship you."

He blinks slowly. That's not what he thought you'd say. Fucked dumb? Probably. For him to use your throat? Maybe. Cockwarming? Possibly. But to worship him? That never would have crossed his mind. He could have been given a million guesses, taken years, and he'd still never have guessed that.

"If you don't want me to that's fine-"

"Woship me?" He's confused, voice coming out strained. "Why?"

It's your turn to blink at him stupidly. Why? Why? WHY?

"Min Yoongi, have you seen yourself?"

He splutters, and you roll your eyes, climbing over his lap and settling yourself onto his lap.

"Your lips are so kissable and pouty, I adore them," you press a soft kiss to his lips, and he holds you to him with a hand on your cheek.

"Your cheeks get so round and soft when you're eating, it's so cute." You give them a little pinch, making him swat your hands away before you press a kiss to each of his now blushing cheeks.

"Your nose has this cute lil freckle on it and I really just wanna boop it all the time," so you do.

"I love your hair, even more now that it's growing longer. It suits you, and I can pull on it easier," he shifts his thighs under you, and you can feel his cock slowly growing harder under your weight.

"I love your jawline, it's so sharp and defined." You trace your finger across it. "I'd say it could cut me, but you wouldn't like that."

He nods, and shrugs- you know him well. He never wants you hurt. Even if it is from his own jaw.

"Your neck is so hot, I love the way it looks when you throw it back in pleasure and the sounds that come from deep in your throat - rapping or otherwise." He moves to push his hard cock into your clothed cunt, and you move away. "Nope, no pussy until I'm done worshiping you."

He whines and you shut him up with a kiss before continuing.

"I love your collarbones and the way you're so sensitive there." You kiss each of them before pushing him so he's lying down again. You trace your finger down his chest and ghost over his nipples, causing his hips to buck up into nothing.

You giggle slightly and press slightly onto his nipple, causing him to whine again.

"Fuck baby." He's about to beg, so you remove your hands entirely and let him relax onto the bed again.

When he's somewhat relaxed, you place your hands on his stomach, running your fingers over the hard planes of toned muscle and smooth skin.

You move, so your face is in line with his stomach, and you place kisses over his skin, tracing your tongue along the ridges of his muscles. He squirms, hands moving to your head, wanting to push you down to his hard, leaking cock that's leaking and making a mess on the inside of his shorts. His hips buck up, seeking friction that he fails to get.

You trail kisses down his stomach to the waistband of his shorts, letting him get his hopes up, before you place a kiss directly over the growing patch of precome and you stand up, hearing him whine and watching him shudder.

"Baby, please, need you." Yoongi is begging.

"Patience baby, I'm not done yet." You fake a pout. "You don't want to ruin my fun do you?"

Yoongi shakes his head, and you smile at him, "good boy."

To say Yoongi whines would be too kind. The noise is guttural and deep, and you can tell from the way his stomach is tensing and hips are bucking, that he's cumming, untouched. You decide to be nice, and press your hand to his cock, letting him rut up into it until his orgasm is over.

You let him catch his breath, keeping you hand pressed to his still hard cock, knowing he likes the warmth, and smile softly at him when he opens his eyes.

"M'sorry." He whispers, chest heaving.

"It's ok baby," you kiss the closest patch of skin, his knee. "But we're not done yet."

He sucks in a breath, and you move your hand from his cock.

You place a kiss on his left ankle, trailing your lips up his leg, occasionally bringing your tongue out to trail on his smooth skin. You repeat the process on the other side, kissing up his inner thighs and stopping just before you get to his cock.

Standing, you pull a noise of protest from him before you pull him up to a sitting position and slip into the space behind him. There, you kiss the space between his shoulder blades and each of the scars from his shoulder surgery before you pull him back to lean on your chest.

You reach around in front of him, kissing his cheek and ghosting over his nipples again, before you - finally - slide your hands beneath his shorts, your fingertips meeting the cum from his previous orgasm.

He leans his head back onto your shoulder, already breathing heavily, and you grip his cock, making his breath hitch in his throat.

Slowly, you start to move your hand along his cock, making sure to apply pressure to the veins on the underside and to run your finger along the slit in his tip - something you know drives him wild.

Soon enough, he's panting, his bucking and moans falling from his mouth. You kiss his cheek again before moving on of your hands to his balls, squeezing gently and tugging his cock, which makes him let out another guttural noise, his cum flowing over your hands and making more mess in his shorts.

"Good boy, so good for me." He whines again and bucks his hips one last time before his body goes slack, and he tries to grab your hand through the material of his shorts. You smile and bring your hand out, licking his cum off first, and taking his hand in yours.

"Thank you." His voice is quite, relaxed.

"I love you." You let him rest on you for a few moments before you nudge him gently. "We've got to clean you up, baby."

He groans but moves anyway, knowing you're right and helps you off the bed, his hands coming up to undo your bra and pull it off your body.

You moan as he moves to touch your nipple and pull his free hand up to yours, taking his fingers into your mouth and sucking like they're his cock.

"You're gonna be the death of me."

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cambion-companion · 3 months

Text

Ridges

Hey so yes this is SMUT please DNI if you're under 18.

Um...I am obsessed with Raphael's body ridges. Wanted to write a ficlet exploring how they'd feel etc.

Raphael x gn!reader

Everything about Raphael was sharp.

His intelligent wit, the words he used when you prodded a little too much.

His teeth that left claiming marks upon your soft skin, your fingers tracing along the planes of his infernal body so hot to the touch.

You murmured his name and leaned over him to kiss his lips once more, feeling his tongue snake into your mouth, the stinging of his claws digging against your hips.

His horns felt thorny beneath your exploring hands, he made a low snarling sound against the kiss as you curled your fingers around them, paying no heed to how any errant movement would break skin.

"Playing with fire suits you, pet." Raphael smiled slyly as you continued running your hands along his body. "Intrepid as ever."

His words barely registered, you were occupied tracing the hard striated edges weaving along his ribs. His hips had the same feature, you brushed along them all while he watched your face.

Below his hips, well, his member was also adorned with ridges, your mouth watered at the thought of having it inside you. Raphael chuckled, reading your expression like a book. "Do I please you?"

You gave him a narrow coy look from under your lashes. "Yet to be determined."

His body was beautiful, you couldn't deny it, though something deep within your soul quelled at what you were doing. You pushed aside any doubts, your body impossibly hot as you took initiative.

The connection between you and your cambion burst into searing heat as you pressed down on Raphael. The muscles of his torso flexed under your palms, and he instinctively gripped your waist, those large hands enough to lift you like a doll. Instead, he allowed you to adjust and begin moving yourself experimentally until the pace was right.

You felt every ridge inside your sensitive body as the two of you moved as one, your lips parted, and Raphael curled himself up to kiss them roughly. His tail wrapped around your waist and his wings folded like a crimson cape around the two of you as you rocked together.

The heat increased to an almost unbearable temperature, everything cast in a reddish hue through the wings surrounding you.

You felt the rough edges along his broad back, scraping your nails along his skin and reveling in the sound he made.

Entrapped within the devil's embrace you found your pleasure, within hell there lay a piece of heaven. With Raphael, you rose to great heights before the inevitable fall.

#raphael bg3 #fanfic #raphael x reader #smut #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #gender neutral reader

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noosayog · 7 months

Text

just a nanami thirst hehe

wc: 300

It’s early evening when you come home. There’s a lonely quiet that is reserved for the gap between when you arrive home and when Nanami does. The bedroom door is slightly ajar and you can’t quite remember if you left it that way.

You make your way there, ready to change into comfortable clothing and shower the day’s exhaustion away but something makes you stop.

There, on the bed, is Nanami, shirtless and back exposed, snoozing away. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm under your pillow and sheets covering only his bottom half. The setting sun shines through the window, lighting up his pale skin in an orange glow, shadows draping over all the divots on the expanse of his back. Your eyes shamelessly trace the ridges of the muscle, the lines of definition rippling with any particularly deep exhale. They follow the lines all the way down to the dimples at the bottom of his spine, only stopping when the sheets obscure your view of anything lower. Each breath makes the broad triangle that forms his torso expand and shrink. Occasionally, his breath comes out in a quiet groan or short sigh.

Even with his face only half visible, the other half squashed into his own pillow, his jawline is sharp. The everpresent scowl on his forehead remains, though halved in force. You can’t help the fingers that reach out to soothe the tense lines. It makes his eyelids flutter open.

In one sweeping motion, he pulls you into the confines of his arms, caged against his broad chest. He crushes you against his body, your lips mouthing against his pectorals. He curls a bit more around you when your legs squeeze between his, the heat of his cock simmering against your center. He falls back asleep to the feeling of your hands exploring the planes of his naked body, one hand trailing down to memorize the curves of his abs, the other rubbing aimlessly across those striations on his back.

#noos writes #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n

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bakerstreethound · 1 year

Note

namor thots u say,,??? well I feel like he’d rly be into you leaving marks on his back. he also loves it when you moan into his ear 🚶🏽‍♀️

mmm yes Namor thoughts...yeah so uh this is a blurb now...

To Claim a King

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites)

This is my first time writing for Namor so please go easy on me. I tried my best to stay in character as best I could. Also, idk the relationship here but we can go with one of the members of his court and reader is gender neutral. Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 🥰

Namor relaxed as you gently rubbed his back. He'd had a long day and requested that you help comfort him, more like he requested your company. How you ended up here with him on his stomach, his bare back before you rippling and melting into your touch, you had no idea but the sight alone was astonishing. Hell, it never failed to astonish you.

You’d been called upon to attend him other times of course, but something about this felt more intimate even though you’d memorized the planes of his body knowing the ridges and the spots that made him falter with the simplest of touches.

Carefully you continued in your conquest, glancing at him periodically to try to gauge his reaction to your touches. You slowly worked your way up to the back of his neck, working out the knots in the soft spots only you could reach.

You were certain this was the only reason he kept you here, to cure his aching joints, to pamper him like the king he was.

As far as you knew you were the only one to see him like this, to feel him, and oh, the thought crossed your mind countless times what it’d be like to kiss him properly, bed him for one night. If you were worthy enough of that even, but you could dream and what thoughts they were.

After you heard him groan you press a kiss to his back waiting for a response but it’s quiet you think he’s stopped breathing which isn’t ideal but you do it again and feel the muscles tense beneath your touch as you make way to straddle him to work his shoulder blades.

“Ku’Kulkan?” Your voice was barely a whisper and your throat felt dry despite being in the cavern surrounded by his lovely murals, and yet the sight of him on top of his bed, his eyes meeting yours with a tilt of his neck upwards sends a shudder down your spine. Your hands continue dutifully working behind his shoulder blades and you squeeze your thighs to steady yourself from his slight squirming.

A soft grunt escaped him at your maneuvering but despite this, you don’t know it but he grinned to himself, shifting again.

You squeezed harder trying to steady yourself despite knowing you were straddling his waist from behind and you nip the side of his neck in retaliation. “My King, you’re usually not this…”

Before you could finish your sentence, he flipped you under him in a flash and you squeal, heart racing, you’re sure your eyes are blown wide staring into his magnetizing gaze.

“I…still haven’t finished, yet…” You try to regain your bearings, cursing your rapidly beating heart and yet he still didn’t pull away, pinning you against him where every perfect inch of his body somehow fit into yours like you are made for him.

“There’s no need, I have you where I want you….”

You gasped, your lips barely brushed against his as he cupped your face. “Ku’Kulkan…” is all you could manage to say, too overwhelmed by your position, the red hot desire that had been brimming for months rising to the surface.

He smiled oh so gently at you, watching you as if you are one of his greatest treasures and still he leaned closer to you as you lean up into him, grasping him by the nape of his neck. Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you moaned his name softly, causing his grip to turn vicelike on your hips.

You knew you signed your death sentence sealed away your fate, but the shudder coursing down his back made you realize he wanted this all the same, delighted in the noises you made for him.

And you would make more for him throughout the night, as he lavished you with greater care than you could have bestowed upon him, but no one else could claim that you had indeed marked your beloved king. And how he wore those marks with pride.

******

@bakerstreethound @starks-hero @feral-for-strange @wint3r-h3art @lilythemadqueen @novaracer27

#jakecockley #namor x reader #tenoch huerta namor #wakanda forever #namor smut #namor thoughts #gender neutral reader #writing request

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yorshie · 13 days

Text

Nightmare

Bayverse Mikey x GN reader

Summary/warnings: SFW but mentions of sex, Mikey turns violent waking up from a nightmare. - hurt no comfort, violence, reader in peril, unhappy ending

The jostle of a heavy limb against your stomach woke you, and at first you didn’t understand what was happening.

The room was still familiar, lit up enough by the little nightlight on the dresser across the room for you to know you were still in Mikey’s room, still in a safe place, even if your brain was slow to process anything else. You were about to drift off again, certain it was just a fluke sensation that had pulled you from your dream, when a quiet little snuffle grabbed your attention once more.

Mikey was still curled up next to you, between you and the edge of the bed, half on his stomach and half draped over you. If you craned your neck, you could just just make out his expression, just see the way his brow ridge was furrowed low over his eyes, the way his beak was scrunched up tight.

He was having a nightmare. The stilted way his arm tightened over your waist confirmed it, the motion sharp and jerky and not at all like how he usually handled you.

You rolled in his grip, letting him pull you closer, hands raising to tap along his cheekbones in the little dance you’d picked up from him in the months dating. The first time you’d fluttered your fingers at him, he’d all but dropped what he was doing to pounce on you and fuck you flat on the nearest surface with a low chance of getting caught, but over time it seemed to have morphed into a sweeter gesture to him, and was one you used to your advantage instead of trying to out puppy dog eye him.

Mikey rumbled in his sleep, the sound pained and low. You frowned, not expecting that reaction, slowing your tapping in favor of running your hands soothingly over the planes of his face, down his neck to push against the upper scutes of his plastron. “Angelo? Baby?”

Mikey hissed, starting to roll away, and without thinking you followed him, reaching across his chest, intending to shake him again in hopes of waking him up.

Your fingers grazed the line of raised scales along his side, some age old scar whose story you had yet to hear, when Mikey let out another low growl, hand snapping to your own in a grip that had you crying out in surprise.

You were pushed to your back in a flash, no time to kick out or process the fact that a very angry Michelangelo was now straddling you, knees tucked in tight over your hips and one strong arm pressed under your chin.

Your head was forced back, and though you reflexively took a breath, the air never made it passed your throat, choked off as his arm pressed you further into the mattress.

His eyes were wide open, unseeing, his pupils tiny pinpricks swimming in the baby blue you loved so much.

You blinked, and realized half the swimming was you, trying to wheeze in oxygen and failing as your vision started to wobble and grey out. Your free hand feebly tried to scrabble along his shoulder to no avail...

you blinked, trying to clear your vision, trying to think of a way to get through to him before you passed out.

You were slipping…. Sliding… all you could see was blue, your heart thundering in your chest, diaphragm heaving even though there was no air escaping past Mikey’s choke hold…

If there was noise, if he was saying anything, you weren’t aware, but suddenly the light was on, and Mikey was pulled off you.

Your throat expanded, your voice gasped, but it was like hearing it from another body. That couldn’t be you, crying and sobbing hysterically. That couldn’t be you, trying to drag yourself through the various blankets and pillows strewn on the bed, desperate for the grounding touch of rough concrete walls instead of all this plush comfort.

Someone hovered over you again, blocking out the orange toned lamp on the dresser by the door, and you reacted violently, too scared to realize it wasn’t Mikey coming to finish what he’d started, the outline too tall, too lanky.

Donnie took a closed fist to the snout. Another time, you might have been proud to get past his lightning fast reflexes, but here and now you were still crying, tears blocking your vision, throat starting to burn.

Voices, aimed at you, aimed at Mikey, you didn’t care. You’d found the concrete wall, and you were now pressed against it, content to hide from whoever else was in the room. Your throat burned.

Voices filtered through your ringing ears:

“Need to check her out-”

“I’m working on it, give me some space!”

“Goddamn, Mike, snap out of it-”

And beyond that, another gasp, this one cutting through the noise in the room like a knife. The next word question had tears of a different flavor slipping down your cheeks.

“Angel?”

The bed dipped, before you heard a low growl and the sound of a shell hitting the floor, a solid thump that caused a hitch in your chest.

“Stay down for a moment, Mikey. Give her space.”

“Fuck you, Leo, let me up!”

Hearing the anger, the crack in his voice, had you moving, hands slapping away the proffered arms trying to keep you contained. Your feet were shaky, soles hurting from how bone cold the floor was.

The cold stabbed into your inflamed airways, making every breath painful, making you gasp with every step, but nothing compared to the pain in your heart at the way your name cracked from Mikey’s mouth when he saw you were leaving the room.

#my writing snippets #tmnt bayverse #tmnt michelangelo #bayverse michelangelo #tmnt x reader #bayverse mikey x reader

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thetypingpup · 9 months

Note

Yk, I've had this thought for a long time about dragon Mingi, and idk if it's in anyway accurate to dragons, but I was thinking about ab riding with him, and he's enjoying the sight of you on top of him, but he's also partially in his dragon form; his wings spanning across the expanse of the couch, while his clawed hands rest on your hips, loving to feel the way you use him for your own pleasure; but at some point, you accidentally rub yourself over one of his more soft scales that are close to his v-line, and unbeknownst to you, a dangerously sensitive spot for him, and all it takes is you brushing over it twice before his eyes roll back and he cums hard, growling out curses and cries of your name, and you realize you've unlocked a new level of pleasuring your dragon boy.

I am unwell 🥲

omg this is immaculate. just imagine seeing those dark amber scales tracing the v-line chiseled onto his hips, etched onto the sides of his rippling abdomen. you see his scales glint in the light, a golden sheen tracing the overlapping scales when his hips roll up to meet yours. you're transfixed by the sight, watching where your core meets with his waist every time you sink down on his large cock. you feel every swell and ridge inside you, stretching to take in the knot at the base every time you slide down. you bounce on him at a brisk pace, used to his size, wanting to feel the ferocious power of his size and the fervent pleasure of him filling you to the absolute brim. your half lidded eyes rove upwards, tracing the defined planes of his heaving chest, the large wings that stretch across the back of the couch, and his smoldering emerald gaze fixated on you. you bounce faster on his cock, panting harshly at the stretch and the full feeling of him reaching innermost depths you didn't know existed. the tip of his cock rubs over your sweet spot, the rest of his cock stimulating every tender patch of titillation within you all at once, and you clutch his shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscle. chasing your pleasure, you grind down on him almost deliriously, your clit rubbing over the scales on his belly just beneath his naval. a smooth softness meets with your sensitive bundle of nerves, offsetting the intense bursts of pleasure from within you, making you cry out as your back arches sharply, your body craving more.

you're brought out of your haze of frenzied pleasure when you hear him growl, so sharp and loud it borders on a roar. his hands clutch your waist tighter, claws pressing into your skin, as he brings you down on his cock again. his head tilts to the side, unable to keep upright, and he growls out rough, animalistic grunts as he bucks his hips up into you. smoke puffs from his nose in time with his erratic breathing, his inner fire burning so hot that beads of sweat form atop his furrowed brows.

"fuck, don't stop don't stop don't stop." he chants through clenched teeth, keeping you sheathed on his cock and just grinding against your silken heat, pressing himself against your points of pleasure while your clit rubs over his scales. deep, bellowing growls rise in his throat and rumble in his chest. his wings flutter and flap behind him, making him arch off the couch. it's intense, so intense that tremors overtake his entire body as he cums, unexpectedly and uncontrollably. a flood of liquid heat pours into you in spurts, heated spurts of seed amplifying your pleasure. your own eyes roll back as you tighten around him in spasming pulses, milking his orgasm right from him while your own pours down his length in clear rivulets of ecstasy.

"that..." he tries to pant, struggling to catch his breath, "felt really really good."

"i could tell." you chuckle, your chest heaving and your heart racing so fast you can feel it, even as you remain perched on his cock. neither of you move, trying to come down from such an intense high, feeling that he's still hard and still pulsing inside of you.

"want me to do it again?" you offer with a tease, your hand meandering down to those soft scales you were just grinding against.

"i need a few minutes." he waves your hand away, far too sensitive for such contact right now, before sitting up to meet your gaze with a smirk, "but yes, we're definitely doing that again."

#ateez smut #ateez mingi smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #mingi x you #mingi x reader #dragon!au #never thought of dragons this way but yknow what #this is elite i love it

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

Text

Just Come Home

✦Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Father Figure Jake x Y/N Son

✦Word Count: 1.1K

✦Warnings: Light angst, fluffy Jake, nightmares, child crying

✦A/n: I loved writing this, Jake is super soft and I'm a sucker for dad!Jake.

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

An alarming cry jolted Jake from his sleep, waking him from the peaceful dream state that always consumed him whenever he had you in his arms. Listening out the silences of the house was calming, though as another cry is heard Jake knows that it’s Mathew.

You slowly stir awake, going to get up, though before you can Jake pulls you by the waist back to the bed.

“I’ve got him darlin’” He places a kiss on your head, and you can’t help the sleep-filled smile that settles across your lips. “You need your sleep.”

You go to protest, knowing that he needs his sleep just as much, if not more, than you do. But he is already up, pulling his sweats and t-shirt on. Sleep overtakes you again, as the silent form of Jake heads out the Mathews bedroom. Your heart fills with love, this past year with Jake had been a dream and you couldn’t imagine a better father-figure for Maty.

Jake hears Mathew’s quiet whimpers as he nears the child’s room, the darkness of the night incases the house as Jake passes the kitchen and a bright 2:13 am blinks in red.

He wipes the sleep from his eyes, yawning as his body is still wrecked from the pass week. He’s thankful that it’s a Friday night, the past five days the Dagger Squadron had been running drills with a new set of recruits. Each of the team member switching off teaching positions, depending on the days needed skill set.

Mathew’s door is slightly ajar and the light from his moon lamp, seeps into the hallway. Pushing the door open slowly, as to not scare the child, Jake sees Mathew sat up clutching on to the blanket that Jake had gotten him before going on a mission last month.

The light blue material, littered with planes, had easily become Mathews favorite comfort item. Jake couldn’t have been happier when he saw how much Mathew loved it, always having it during their nightly calls. It didn’t matter that Jake was on carrier in the middle of the ocean, every night they called and read a bedtime story. Though two weeks didn’t seem all that long, it had been a rough two weeks for all three of you.

Jake had officially moved in, and Maty was used to his presence every day, and those 14 days were hell. Maty was constantly worrying about Jake and was afraid that he wouldn’t come home.

In the last two weeks that Jake had been home, Mathew was attached to his hip. Wanting Jake to do everything with him, school drop-offs (which worked perfectly, as Maty was now going to school on base), nightly homework, and you even lost the privilege of bedtime stories.

Jake couldn’t have been happier that Mathew wanted to spend so much time with him and grew to love their newly formed routine.

Slowly walking over to the side of Mathew's bed, Jake softly sat down not wanting to startle him. Jake realized that Mathew's eyes were still closed, and he was in fact still dreaming. Jake slowly reached out for the boy, moving to bring Mathew’s shuttering form to his lap.

Rocking Mathew ever so gently, Jake slowly pushed back the hair on his head. Quietly muttering sweet nothings, hoping to calm the child, or slowly ease him from his dream state.

Mathew slowly started to wake up, his body going ridge, until he realized that it was Jake holding him. Rubbing at his eyes Mathew slowly looked up and found a smiling Jake staring back at him.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” Jake quietly questioned, still afraid of startling him.

His little head nodded, giving Jake a silent answer. Which only meant one of two things; Mathew was still half-asleep, or he’d been having a horrible nightmare. Jake had a gut instinct that it was the latter.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Another silent nod without a reply, Jake new that Mathew would open up in his own time. Moving the five-year-old off his lap, caused a silent whimper and tiny hands to clutch onto Jake’s shirt.

“I’m not going anywhere bud. Let’s just lay down, I won’t leave you bubba.”

Mathew’s body instantly relaxed and moved over as much as possible to make room for Jake to fit into his small bed.

Once they were both comfortable, with Jake laying down and Mathew laying on top of his chest listening to his heartbeat, Jake slowly started to fall back asleep.

Though he was quickly awoken by Mathews small voice.

“You didn’t come home.”

Confusion painted Jakes face, unsure of what Mathew was referring to. Lazily stroking the child’s head, Jake urged him to continue.

“In my dream, you didn’t come home.”

Jake patiently waited for Mathew to continue, still not understanding fully.

“You never got off the big ship. You died and me and momma were all alone again.” Though his sniffles and whimpers had subsided, Jake didn’t miss the one that came from the small body as he talked.

It broke Jakes heart to hear that he was the reason that Mathew was crying, he hated that his little 5 year old boy could have such fears. That the thought of losing Jake, had caused him so much pain and that there was an actual chance that one day Jake wouldn’t come home.

He couldn’t tell Mathew that, he would do everything in his power to come home. To be here with you two, even if that one day meant retiring from flying.

“Buddy, I will always come home to you. That’s something that you don’t ever have to worry about.” The little hands clutching Jakes shirt released slightly, though Jake could still tell that Mathew wasn’t full relaxed.

“I’m never going to leave you and your momma, Mathew. I promise.” Jake held up his pinky finger for Mathew, to which the little boy wrapped his own pinky around.

The duo had started doing pinky promises, a promise that could never be broken, or so Jake had told Mathew. It became their silent code and comfort language when Mathew got worried or stressed.

With their pinkies wrap around each other, Mathew brought their hands together to tuck under his head, resting peacefully against Jakes chest.

As Jake started to drift off to sleep, cradling Mathew, he heard the boy let out a last whisper, before falling asleep.

“We’re never gonna leave you either daddy.”

Jake's heart stopped for a moment, like a bucket of water to the face, he realized that maybe it was time to hang up his wings.

#jake seresin #jake seresin fluff #Soft!Jake Seresin #dad!jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin blurb #jake seresin fic #top gun fluff #top gun maverick #hangman #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #hangman fluff #hangman x reader #tgm #pure fluff

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lilyrizzy · 9 months

Text

continuation of my outsider pov fic i wrote a million years ago. maybe someone will enjoy! cw: medical drama

When Sophie comes back to the waiting room, Daniel is still sleeping. He’s not wearing the Red Bull Racing t-shirt anymore, her son’s she’s since realized, and has instead replaced it with a non-descript grey jumper. Only the oversized sweatpants have stayed, his top long enough to cover the tiny 33 stitched into the pocket.

Arms folded tightly over his chest, there’s a frown creasing his brow that gives away the tension that must be holding his body tight, even as he sleeps. The strange white-blue light from the vending machine opposite bathes his face, making him look more tired than he did earlier in the soft orange glow of Max’s kitchen. Their kitchen.

It adds to the guilt twisting itself up into knots inside her stomach, the thought of waking him up, but he’s twitching, uncomfortable, and she wants somebody to talk to.

It’s late. Victoria is on a plane.

“Daniel,” she says, touching his shoulder as gently as she can. It’s enough to have him jerking awake anyway, eyes darting around the room before landing on her face. There’s a moment, a flicker of confusion, then-

“Max?” He asks, his voice cracked down the middle with sleep-tinged terror, and- “is he-”

“There is no change Daniel,” Sophie assures him quickly, “we are still waiting for him to wake up.” Then, because he’ll want to know, “the doctor has been though.”

His expression clouds, the sky before a thunderstorm.

“You should have woken me up,” is all he says, but she can hear the words he doesn’t speak.

I deserve to be involved.

Gone is the man who just hours earlier stayed home in Max’s clothes. Since being in the hospital it’s been all vicious demands for information, for medicines, for miracles. As though proximity and looking through the window into the hospital room they aren’t allowed to enter yet reminded him of his rightful place in Max’s life.

That, or fear.

“I- I thought you would like to sleep,” She tries, but it’s only a half-truth. Max is her baby, and she is not used to sharing him with anybody but his father, who has already flown home to his new wife, his two new babies.

She expects more of a fight, but Daniel eventually just nods, shoves his thumbnail into his mouth and starts to chew at it’s edges.

“Right, yeah, of course- Sorry,” he mumbles around it, eyes glancing between the door, the clock and the floor.

Standing over him, for a moment she feels lost. Uncertain of what to do, what to say.

“I brought you some food though,” she settles on, remembering what made her wander away from the room in the first place. She takes the two prepackaged sandwiched out from under her arm where she’s been squashing them. “You should eat something,” she adds in what Victoria calls her mother-knows-best tone when Daniel just stares at her. “I did not know what you would like, but I thought everyone likes cheese, yes?”

She holds it out to him, and to her surprise, that gets him to smile. Awkwardly, hand touching the back of his neck.

“Actually, um- I’m lactose intolerant,” he says like an apology with a shrug.

Of course.

“Oh.” Then holding out the other packet instead, “here. I have this one, also. Roast chicken.”

Something flickers over Daniel’s face, and for a moment she’s worried he’s about to tell her he’s a fucking vegetarian, when she realises it’s softness. The deep lines of his worry momentarily smoothing.

“This is great, Sophie,” he promises softly, taking it from her outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

She takes a seat beside him in the plastic chair, feels every uncomfortable ridge of it press into her skin. A constant, aching reminder of where she is and why. An inescapable reality. Daniel opens his sandwich, but the lead weight in her stomach makes her a hypocrite, makes her put hers down on the empty chair besides her.

There’s no one else around, it's long past visiting hours. She tries not to think about what that must mean, that they’ve let them stay sat in this purgatory. That no one has told them, ‘go home, there won’t be any change.’ There could be change, and they both know it could go either way.

There’s nothing. No nurses, no doctors, no priest in the hospital chapel. She already checked. Just the ticking of the clock above both their heads, driving her insane.

“Before you said, 6 years,” she plucks from the silence to stop it choking her. Beside her, she feels Daniel tense. “That is a long time.”

He takes a bite of food and chews for a long time in favour of answering.

“Yeah. It is,” is all she gets once he’s swallowed. She nods, turning her body towards him, to try to get him to meet her eye.

“And you are- You are happy together, yes?”

This time there is no hesitation.

“Yes.” As though it could be anything other than the truth.

He still won’t look at her though, staring instead at the crusts of the bread.

“Even- Even though you race each other?” She pushes, because even an argument right now would be better than silence. Would help each of them to feel less alone, give them somewhere to lay down a little of the hurt.

For a moment, Sophie thinks he isn’t going to answer. Then, Daniel dumps his food onto the chair next to him too and finally turns to face her.

“Look, it’s- It hasn’t been all smooth sailing, I won’t lie to you,” Daniel allows, after another beat. His eyes search her face, as though looking for permission to go on. She nods again, but doesn’t speak. “This, ah, this season hasn’t been great for me. It might be my last, but Max, he- He helps. He calls me on my bullshit when I need it, he- Well I would be a lot less happy without him.”

He cringes then, like he’s worried he’s said too much, then continues quickly, almost defensively-

“But I look after him too, I do. I do a good job of making him happy too, I-"

Shaking his head, he breaks off before lifting his hands to bury his face into his palms.

I look after him too, Sophie turns over in her brain, and isn’t that all she ever wanted for Max? How badly has she failed for him to question that enough to feel he needed to hide from her.

Whatever she was looking for, she hasn’t found it in making Daniel look defeatedly back at the floor.

“I am sure you do,” she promises, though there is a mountain of undeniable evidence against her having any idea. She reaches to touch his shoulder, tentative. “Max is not somebody to do anything he does not want to. I think you would not have lasted 6 months if you did not. 6 years, is- “

It’s a lifetime, when you are twenty. She knows people who have married, separated and divorced in less time.

“I’m glad he got to have that,” she finishes, words forced past the tightness of her throat, “if- I’m glad.”

Daniel's head snaps back around to look at her. For a moment, his face goes perfectly still, before awful realization crests over it.

“Incase-“ She tries, but she doesn’t get another word out. Daniel is jumping to his feet, coming to crouch in front of her. Hands on her knees he looks up at her shaking his head.

“No, no, no,” he says, firmer than she’s heard him be before now, “Sophie, no. None of that okay, I cant- I can’t hear that right now. Max is going to be fine.”

The taste of salt at the corner of her mouth surprises her. She’s crying. When she speaks again, shaking her head too, her voice is cracked.

“But-“

“He’s going to be fine,” Daniel interrupts, and she doesn’t know who he is trying to convince more. “In a couple of hours they’re going to take us to his room, and- And he’s going to laugh at us for being so worried, okay?”

She rubs her fingertips over her eyes, smearing her tears across her face. All she wants is Daniel’s words to be true. It’s all she wants in the world.

“You do not know what,” she says because it’s what makes him seem so cruel to her right now. How can he promise a mother that her baby will be fine when he knows nothing more than she does?

But when he hangs his head, hand still clutching her kneecaps, she feels guilty for trying to take his hope from him.

“I love him,” he tells the tiled hospital floor. “He has to be okay, Sophie, I- I love him.”

#urgh idkkkkkk #if this is okay or not but #posting anyway #fic #max/daniel #happy ending to come...i promise...

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tojifm · 3 months

Text

- just enough (m.) -> g. satoru

*𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: gojo/reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖"words": 1k ‧₊˚contains: orgasms, overstimulation (m), masturbation (f, m), bondage (not graphic), whiny gojo, vibrators, a choppy plot, and honestly pure smut. ‧₊˚

i. | ii.*

Gojo is pretty. Like really pretty.

Yes, you cannot believe you are saying this but his sooty white lashes fluttering against his red cheeks, hips convulsing into your hand, he looked like a vice.

“If you had been nicer to me…” you throw your words back at him, feigning sympathy.

After wiping out the curse you both had initially headed out to do, your return was leisurely, laid out comfortably in the back seat of Ijichi’s car, too tired to try anything.

That didn’t mean you had forgotten.

“C’mon,” his hands pulled taut against the ropes, the bed frame creaking, and although the echo made you nervous, you managed a giggle.

“No way.”

Gojo’s needy whines echoed in the room and the sound only seemed to spur you on, glad that you were in the privacy of his flat instead of the office on campus.

“C’mon, just give it to me!” His cock is fattened up, looking red and sore from overstimulation, bulging out of the vibrating cock ring, and you are sure if you don’t stop soon, you might unleash a new monster.

You were still fully clothed, sitting on your knees, mattress dipping to accommodate your weight, occasionally fisting his cock, only to pull away when he seemed to reach his peak.

“I thought you were stronger than this,” you jeered and Gojo’s blue eyes flashed. His jaw clenched, the skin along his throat and collarbones dipped.

“You challenging me?”

There’s cum painting the flat planes of his stomach from before which became misty from inattention. You find it bizarre, the insolence he has managed to upkeep despite being so vulnerable.

“Of course not.”

He had swam through his orgasms, a manic smile gracing his mouth followed by soft groans before he’d look at you for more.

You were not surprised. He’d always been a little sadistic. His chest heaved and his mouth pouted before another shudder ripped through him at the click of your remote. You grinned, ankle discreetly massaging against the spot that was becoming wetter by the minute. “Fuckin’ hell, Gojo. Are you gonna cum again?”

He doesn’t answer but his cheeks puff, eyes fluttering shut, and you knew all too well to ignore the sign. The hum of the ring stopped.

Gojo grunted. “No, no, no, no-“ He didn’t know what he was asking for, eyes glassy and blown, he just wanted this to be over.

“What’s the problem?” You inquired, eyes wide. You were rocking against your foot, consumed by the friction. You licked the corner of your mouth. “Y-you want something?”

He was so pretty, laid out for you to control.

His body flailed, desperate to orgasm just once more. He’d lost count of how many times you had robbed him of the privilege, driving him until he was oozing but not combusting.

“Are you trying to get your ass torn apart?” His jaw was clenched, muscles standing to attention, but it wasn't from anger. No, it was from restraint.

The ridge of the bone rolled against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. In your haze, you failed to notice the flash of renewed lust across Gojo's face. His eyes widened, nostrils flared.

“No way.”

You huffed, rocking harder.

“Are you fucking yourself right now?”

“No,” you protested weakly.

Gojo didn’t mean to sound angry, but he did. “Are you serious?”

You were breathless, the throb between your legs becoming too much to bear. You raised your skirt, Gojo’s breath rattled, and slipped your hand down, tracing the edge of your panties.

“Hey!” His complaint was half-hearted, feeling ferality lick the edge of his consciousness. “Stop touching yourself.” Once again, his legs thrashed and arms pulled against the restraints, wondering when you had learned all this.

“Gojo,” you keened in response, fingers rolling the bundle of nerves, falling forward against his chest.

“Untie me. C’mon. I wanna cum too.”

Your hand slipped past the barrier and rubbed your fingers against your lips, coating them before you plunged your middle finger into yourself, breathing out in relief at the ease with which you began to pleasure yourself. Your heated breath brushed against his pink nipple.

He watched, cock standing rigid. He hated this. He wanted nothing more than to stuff your mouth, pound into it, and coax your throat open until it was leaking nothing but sweet apologies and his ropey cum. “You fucking bitch,” he gritted.

You felt tendrils of pleasure caress your nerves until your body was wracking and shaking against him. Mouth wrapping around his nipple, rocking against your hand, dragging out the aftermath.

Gojo’s back bent at the sensation. “W-what are you- hah- s-stop that!”

Flushed and worn out, you grinned, his skin was cold and your tongue just sizzled kissing it. You find yourself tracing a path, nuzzling into the column of his neck, kissing and sucking until he was groaning. A string of drool followed your mouth, when you leaned back, admiring the purple bruises you had left behind.

“So pretty.”

“I’ll make you regret this,” he promised, an untamed smile on his mouth. The blue of his eyes glowed against the contrasting white of his hair that was matted against his forehead from the sweat.

You laughed, trying to maintain the illusion of dominance you had fed him. “No, you won’t.”

His skin was buzzing with pleasure so when the click of the remote resounds, it took him a moment to process what was happening.

The room fell silent, the kind of silence you hear before the thunder cracks down and lights farms on fire. When it registers, inside Gojo’s racing mind, a fresh gush of precum shoots out of his slit that you are quick to occupy your hands with.

“Fuck, I swear-“

You squeezed his cock, dragging out a low moan from the man’s throat. “You like this?”

“Go t-to hell.”

You pretended to pout, squeezing harder, watching the translucent liquid dribble out and onto your hand. “But I want to give you something.” Your other hand flicked the button on the remote control. The cock ring hummed at the new speed and Gojo’s spine arched and twisted, like he was just about to die.

“Come on,” You cooed, “Come one, you fucking slut. Give it to me.”

With your resounding words, lips wrapping around the leaking swollen head, licking across the slit, you kiss the top of his cock.

That’s all it takes for an earthquake, an avalanche, a tsunami to roll through his body, shivering and bucking, chasing the pulses of his orgasm, feeling the ropes loosen unbeknownst to you. He choked on his breath, flooding your mouth.

as beyonce once said, if you like it than you shoulda put a ring on it

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