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warrioroflondonbelow · 2 years

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II @dontcxckitup

“Shite. Shite, shite, shite.— We have to stop the bleedin’,” gasped Richard, immediately shoving his jacket off before pressing it against Mallory’s bleeding side. “There I think tha’ll do it, at least for now.”

“Nine…”

“Ye’ couldn’t just let me take the damn bullet, could ye’? No ma’er. You’ve had much worse anyways, eh? You’ll pull through this one.”

“Nine—“

“Righ’ ye’ keep pressure on tha’, and I’ll try and get comms back up. Maybe if I—“

“Mayhew! There’s no time!” barked Mallory. That was finally enough to shut Richard up. “If it’s not the bullet wound that kills me, the bombs will certainly have both our heads.” A beat. His frustration and tone softened now. “There’s no time,” the older man sighed, doing his best to hide back another pained wince as he kept Mayhew’s jacket pressed up against his side. “I need you to let it go. That’s an order.”

“Since when have yer’ orders ever stopped me before?” remarked Mayhew, forcing out an actual fear-tinged smile. “Look, just let me do this, a’righ? I can try and find a way to restart comms. If Q can do it I pro’ly have a shot too, righ’? I’ll restart it, we can find somebody who can deactivate the bombs, ye’ can contact Wendy, and—“

Mallory clutched onto Richard’s wrist. “Mayhew.” His words were steady. There wasn’t an ounce of anger or rage in them. Fear? Perhaps. But mainly it was acceptance.— Mallory’s collected gaze remained pierced at the other. Let it go. Let it go now.

All through Richard’s life he had been trained, no, conditioned to do one thing and one thing alone. Fight. He was a weapon who was not only built on it, but thrived on it. Yet, at the end of the day, when Death came knocking, there was truly only one thing left to do. Something that Richard ran from all his life. “… Yes, sir…” Acceptance.

With a silent shiver of a breath, Richard slumped down beside the other. “So,” he nodded, “this is it?”

“This is it,” replied Mallory, his tone as calm and sure as ever. Richard wasn’t sure whether he said it as assurance or a statement. Perhaps both.

“Was this how you imagined it then? Dyin’?”

“I always knew I’d die on the job. It was inevitable,” he winced once more. “But, no. I never imagined dying under this specific situation.”

“Don’t worry. Yer’ the last person I expected I’d die beside. ‘Guess we really are cursed to be stuck together ’til the bi’er end, eh?”

“Emphasis on ‘bitter’,” joshed Mallory, actually managing a small hint of a smile.

Richard let out a silent breath of a chuckle. “Funny. I always assumed I’d die on the job as well, but now tha’ I’m here I realized tha’ my trainin’ prepared me for none of it.— Wha’ the hell do ye’ do to pass the time when yer’ dyin’?”

“Sit in silence.”

A beat. “Mmm… Ye’… Ne’er really did silence. Not really in my area,” teased Richard. “We could always try the honest route. Reveal our deep and dark backstories at the end of it all. People find tha’ poetic, righ’?”

“You forget, Mayhew, I’ve had years to pour over your files. I know everything there is to know about you.”

“Mmm. Righ’. Maybe not. Wha’s left then?”

“… Small talk, I suppose,” shivered Mallory.

Richard wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Och. Tha’ sounds like my personal hell. I’d actually prefer silence in tha’ case.”

“Well, that’s certainly something we can agree on,” hummed the older man.

“Us? Agreein’ on somethin’? It truly is the end of the world,” Richard teased back.

Their time was running out. Richard could feel it in the weight of his breath, and in the fragile silence of the room. Any moment now their world would go in a final swan song of blood and fire. And here he was thinking that he’d have more days ahead of him. More adventures. More time with Mia… Oh god, Mia. He truly thought he had all the time in the world with her and their wee girl. For a moment there he actually thought they could run from the shadows and whittle their life a new. But that was the thing about Death, no matter how far you ran from it, or how many miles you stole, its silent hold would always eventually catch up, like that of an old and waiting friend. Hell, not even the likes of Gareth Mallory could evade it. Truly, nobody had all the time in the world. Might as well make the most of it while one still had it, no matter how little left there was.

“There is somethin’ ye’ don’t know,” began Richard, his voice nothing more than a rasp. Mallory didn’t even have to say anything, but the Scotsman knew he was listening. “I know it will seem hard to believe— and durin’ a time like this you’ll pro’ly think tha’ I’m sayin’ it outta’ pre-death adrenaline or somethin’— but… despite it all…. I ne’er hated ye’. Aye, at some point I was angry, mainly ‘cause I didn’t wanna accept the truth ‘bout Mia, but I ne’er hated ye’.” A beat. Sincerity bled through his every word. “Sir,” he shivered, “I truly am sorry.”

“For what?”

“…. Everythin’…,” replied Mayhew, voice cracking. “Ye’ don’t have to forgive me. In fact, I don’t expect ye’ to. I just… I needed ye’ to know.”

A thoughtful breath of silence as Mallory slightly shifted in his spot. The blood just wouldn’t stop. “To say that you were a thorn in my side since day one would be an understatement, Mayhew. I had every right to terminate your position as a double-0, you know? And yet, you were one of the best agents MI6 has ever had.” A beat. “I know you felt like you had something to prove since the day you began training— Don’t deny it.— But, despite it all, you had absolutely nothing to prove to me or to anybody; and I’m not just talking about your skillset. You had nothing to prove,” he continued, his words careful and deliberate. “Do you understand?”

“… Yes, sir,” rasped the Scotsman, managing to hold back an almost-loose tear. “Thank ye’, sir.” Coming from the likes of Gareth Mallory, it truly was an honour. “… Despite it all,” echoed Richard under his breath. “We had a good run. Haven’t we?”

Gareth tilted his head back and gradually closed his eyelids, which seemed to grow heavier by the second. “I suppose we have.” Richard could hear a hint of a thoughtful smile in his words.

“It really is a shame we spent all tha’ time at each other’s throats,” frowned the agent. “Oh, the things we could’a done, eh?”

“The things we could have achieved,” muttered Gareth. “Perhaps in another life time.”

“I think I’ll take yer’ offer up on tha’,” chuckled Richard. His heart was pounding against his chest. His throat ran dry. “I’ll see ye’ then on the other side, old man.” The flame at the end of the their wick was blowing out, and they with it. This was it then. Their final bow. The final ascent. Time’s arrow waits for no man.

#//ok so i imagined this drabble taking place some years after Mia reappears and what not//#//but yeah I like to call this drabble 'What we did to Magneto That ONE Thread 2.0' 😅//#//my apologies for the angst and for my bad writing for Mallory but this drabble has been in my//#//drafts for months and it had to be done im so sorry and i really hope u like it 🙈 *hides*//#//also may i recommend a delicious pairing of the track 'Final Ascent' while reading this? They pair great together ahgjkdsg//#dontcxckitup #shaken not stirred;au #drabble;#//also also i really tried to find a good way to end the drabble but couldn't for the life of me//#//think up one so sorry if the ending is ehhhh but again i hope u like it eitherway! <3//

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dawntrailing · 2 years

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#ascent #hitoshi sakimoto #final fantasy series #final fantasy xii #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv: music #final fantasy xiv: stormblood #stormblood: final fantasy xiv original soundtrack

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belghast · 1 month

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AggroChat #470 - The Impact of Epoch

AggroChat #470 - The Impact of Epoch - This week we talk about the impact of Last Epoch on ARPG genre, Dwarven Realms, Spiritfall, Astral Ascent, Balatro, and FFVII Remake series.

Hey Folks we’re back! Sorry for the week off but we return with a full docket of topics. We start off with some more discussion of Last Epoch and how everyone is still enjoying the game. Bel dinged 100 for the first time and we talked a bit about buildcraft and approachability. From there Bel talks about Dwarven Realms an ARPG of a sort that has gained traction this week amongst some of the…

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#arpg #Astral Ascent #Balatro #Dwarven Realms #final fantasy vii #games #Gaming #Intergrade #Last Epoch #MMO #MMORPG #Rebirth #Remake #roguelike #Spiritfall #Video Games

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tswhiisftteedr · 3 months

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Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot

☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :

They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2330

Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!

Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.

Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’

And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.

Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.

As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.

Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had no idea what you had done to be a tease in this particular situation.

While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.

“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’

“Wait what— Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.

“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.

“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.

"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.

"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.

"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"

You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.

"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.

Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.

You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.

Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.

As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.

And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.

"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."

"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.

The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.

Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.

Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."

While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.

With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.

His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.

“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"

“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”

"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"

"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."

“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”

“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.

"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."

"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.

You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.

He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.

Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.

Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.

"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.

As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.

“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.

In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.

"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.

And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"

You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.

With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.

Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."

After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.

“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.

“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.

“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.

Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’

Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

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Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

#tswhiisftteedr #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #adam x you #adam x reader #adam smut #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam

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sayoneee · 3 months

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☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike).

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you.

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat).

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand.

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?”

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?”

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs.

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer.

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes.

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy.

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you��re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you.

percy laughs — a green light.

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt.

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar.

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up.

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him.

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms.

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus).

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #woc friendly #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson one-shot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson series #percy jackson x fem! reader #percy jackson oneshots #kashaf ki likhai

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tojisun · 6 months

Note

Biker! Simon x Reader

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8kNohx3/

I need this...

OH MY GOD??

him sliding her visor down for her, then the grab by the ass, the push down towards the fuel tank, then the slow ascent of his hand to choke her?? NO YEA BIKER!SIMON DOES THAT TO YOU FOR FUN. of course only in controlled, and somewhat private, areas!! after all, your safety goes above all else <3

BUT JUST.

imagining biker!simon helping you sit on the fuel tank, his eyes crinkled in delight when you whine how weird it is to be seated in front of him. he laughs when you tell him how you’re feeling somewhat shy now that you can actually see his face instead of just his back.

“it’s nice view though?” simon asks, his hands wrapped around your hips.

“it’s perfect,” you say, giddy smile widening as you giggle when simon finally pulls you closer to him, sliding you down from the tank until your ass falls to his lap.

“same ‘ere, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he slowly pushes you onto your back, his hands hungrily mapping your body, trailing burning touches from your hips to the sides of your ribs where he plants his thumbs just below your tits.

his eyes leave yours for a second, roving his gaze along your body, his nose flaring in desire. god, you’re just so beautiful.

he finally snaps his eyes back to yours, laughter rumbling from his throat when he sees the way you’re biting your bottom lip, nibbling it until it’s flushed and swollen.

he notes the way you look just as hungry, and he couldn’t help but bend forward to gently bump his helmet on yours. piercing the sudden loaded silence between you two, simon rumbles, “‘m lovin’ the view too much, actually.”

im gonna eat my fist

#anon #ask #biker!simon #RECEIVING THIS ASK MADE ME KICK MY LEGS N EVERYTHING PLEASE I NEED HIM SO BAD #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #suns

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comfortless · 5 days

Note

dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 24 days

Note

prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

#ley speaks #ley writes #ley requests #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #shy!reader #innocent!reader #fem!reader

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deunmiu-dessie · 1 month

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ⅵ▬ ⁽ 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₄˖₈ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, cringey, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, vampire/human, unprotected sex, creampie, whiny vampire, overstimulation, spit kink, sloppy kisses, aphrodisiac, blood, dubcon, reader is lowkey at fault but not at the same time. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : ya'll this is so rushed, m'sorry-- i rlly just wanted to get this out, probably won't be as good as the others but enjoy.

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: home for winter break, you find yourself with the house to yourself, right?

꒰subby male!vampire ₊⊹ dom afab!reader꒱

“ Thanks, Jaime, I’ll see you later. ”

𝒜fter bidding farewell to your best friend, you stand there, gazing at the car as it swiftly disappears into the night. With your trusty suitcase in tow, you make your way up the dimly lit driveway, carefully sifting through your bag in search of the elusive house key. A sense of relief washed over you as your fingers finally closed around the icy touch of the silver key. Clutching it firmly, you navigate the treacherous icy surface, mindful of each step to avoid any slips or falls.

Finally making it to the porch stairs, you exerted all your strength to hoist your suitcase up the steps, narrowly avoiding a couple of near-slips along the way. With a sigh of relief, you conquered the last stair, feeling a surge of triumph as you stepped onto the snow-free porch. With ease, you maneuvered your luggage towards the door, unfurling your hand to use the key. It takes a few attempts, but you eventually manage to insert it into the lock and turn the doorknob.

As you enter the house, darkness envelopes you, with not a single light illuminating the space. However, the comforting warmth enveloping the space indicated that your mother had considerately left the heating on for your arrival. Leaving your suitcase by the entrance, you closed the door and secured it with a lock.

As you flick the switch, the overhead ceiling light floods the living room with its warm glow, casting away the shadows that had shrouded the space. Eagerly, you venture further into the house, calling out for your siblings who were supposed to be there to welcome you home. However, the silence that greets you is deafening, and the absence of any movement from the game room basement or upstairs is disconcerting.

With a sigh, you kick off your shoes and settle down, making yourself comfortable in the unfamiliar solitude. Unlike your siblings, who seem to constantly rely on your mother's support without contributing much themselves, you have always been driven and focused on your education. Your hard work paid off, as you graduated high school with an impressive GPA and secured a spot in your dream college. Now, during winter break, you find yourself back in the comfort of your childhood home, enjoying a well-deserved respite from your academic endeavors.

The urge to change overwhelms you, especially with the discomfort of your clothes clinging too tightly and irritating your skin. With each step towards the staircase, you flick on every light switch within reach, flooding the house with light. You silently prayed that none of your siblings had invaded your personal space while you were away, either napping or snacking.

The creaky ascent up the stairs quickened your heartbeat, the loud squeaks echoing through the otherwise quiet house. A sense of unease washed over you, unsure of who might be lurking around. Finally reaching the top, you let out a sigh of relief upon seeing your room to the left.

Astonishingly, the room appears exactly as you had left it, save for a few garments strewn about, most likely belonging to your sister. Other than that, everything seems to be in order. Closing the door behind you, you proceed to delve into your drawers, hastily extracting an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

In a swift motion, you discard your jeans and let out a grunt as you struggle to remove the turtleneck that has somehow become entangled around your head. Finally freeing yourself from its clutches, you toss it aside with a frustrated huff, swiftly replacing it with the shorts and shirt you had chosen.

A sudden pang of pain and the rumbling noise emanating from your stomach causes you to grimace, prompting you to clutch your abdomen tightly; evidently, you were famished. Your plans of drifting off to sleep were quickly dashed as you reached for your phone and descended the stairs.

Unsure of the fridge's contents, you toyed with the idea of ordering food through DoorDash. Fortunately, to your relief and your wallet's delight, a couple of chicken breasts and broccoli were found in the freezer. Taking the frozen items, you hesitated at the thought of waiting for them to thaw. Without delay, you knelt down and retrieved a silver mixing bowl from the nearest cabinet.

You get up with a groan, muttering to yourself that you’re getting old. As you twist the faucet handle, you wait for the water to run hot, capable of scalding your skin upon contact. Placing a bowl beneath the gushing stream, you watch as it gradually fills up, before finally turning off the flow and submerging the chicken and broccoli within its liquid confines. Although it would require some time, it was certainly preferable to enduring hours of waiting for the ingredients to thaw.

Finding yourself in the living room, you idly scroll through the vast expanse of social media, feeling an overwhelming sense of boredom engulfing your very being. Your attention is not truly captivated by the screen of your phone; instead, your mind wanders aimlessly, causing your vision to blur as a whirlwind of thoughts race through the corridors of your consciousness. Your mind is practically blank, lost in a daze.

A sudden sound from the basement catches your attention, causing your ears to twitch and tingle. You snap back to reality, leaping off the couch in a heartbeat. The recent reports of vampires breaching human borders and the rising death toll flood your mind.

The Creatures of the Night, or maybe even Leeches, as they were sometimes referred to- didn't bother you all that much. They were just a tad different from the general population and usually didn't target humans— except for the rare cases highlighted in the news. You had never encountered one personally, but you weren't about to form an opinion based on how the media depicted them as monstrous beings.

Before you know it, your internal monologue has whisked you away from the sounds in the basement, the thought completely vanishing from your mind. You slowly make your way back to the kitchen, dragging your feet with each step. To your surprise, the chicken is already thawed when you inspect it, bringing a smile to your face as you remove it from the now lukewarm water.

While you may not be a master chef, you can still whip up a decent bowl of cereal or a tasty peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The concept of cooking has always been a bit intimidating for you, but the Air Fryer in front of you is a game-changer.

You carefully line the inside with foil, place your seasoned chicken inside, add a dollop of butter, and close the lid before hitting start. As the chicken cooks, you decide to skip heating up your broccoli for now. A sudden chill makes you shiver, causing you to furrow your brows as the cool breeze brushes against your exposed legs.

A sudden blast of icy wind makes you shudder and you instinctively turn around in search of its source. Your heart skips a beat as you catch sight of the slightly ajar back door, allowing delicate flakes of snow to sneak their way inside the cozy home. Taking a deep breath, you try to calm your racing thoughts, considering the possibility that your mischievous siblings might be behind this chilling surprise, as they often are.

You list off their names, telling them that you’re not in the mood for whatever game they’re playing, and then add that if they want something to eat, then come to the kitchen. However, to your dismay, there is no sign of movement or even a faint giggle, which sends a wave of unease coursing through your veins. The absence of their usual inability to keep quiet when plotting a prank fills you with a sense of foreboding.

As you stand there, your body tenses up, your muscles rigid and your palms sweaty. Reacting swiftly, you reach for a knife from the drawer, gripping it tightly until your knuckles ache. With cautious steps, you make your way towards the basement stairs, carefully descending the first four steps and finally reaching the landing where you promptly shut the door.

The frigid cold that once assaulted your skin is now left behind, but before you can proceed any further, an unsettling wetness seeps into your sock – warm and thick. Instantly, you freeze in place, pressing yourself against the wall for support, and slowly lift your foot to investigate. A wave of revulsion washes over you as you discover a bloodstain on your lilac-colored sock. Overcome with disgust, you swiftly remove the tainted sock and discard it.

As you descend the basement stairs, your eyes fixate on the blood trail that stretches all the way down, staining the carpeted flooring. A lump forms in your throat, causing you to swallow heavily, as you carefully navigate your way down, avoiding the blood.

The basement is not completely devoid of light, thanks to the LED lights left on by one of your siblings, but the crimson hue they emit adds an unsettling aura to the eerie atmosphere. The knife in your hand feels slippery, the perspiration on your palm evident against the black handle. Swiftly switching hands, you finally step onto the carpeted surface. In front of you lies a disheveled basement, with clothes strewn haphazardly and gaming consoles still powered on, emitting warm air.

No one is there, you can’t see anyone. Your mind drifts away, causing your eyes to lose focus and your senses to become more acute. Suddenly, a sound breaks the silence - the sound of labored breathing and faint, barely audible whimpers. Your attention is immediately drawn to a dark object on the floor, which you had mistaken for a bean bag chair.

Against your better judgment, you begin to cautiously approach the injured person. They’re obviously injured, and badly so. Without even realizing it, you release your tight hold on your weapon. Slowly, you lower yourself onto the carpeted floor and start crawling towards them.

The person appears disoriented, with their head swaying from side to side and their hand resting loosely on their injury. You carefully set your knife aside and move closer until you can hear their breathing clearly without any difficulty. Your hands automatically reach out towards their face, softly resting on their cheeks.

As you carefully tilt their head upwards, you find yourself staring at a pair of wispy lashes, set in a devilishly attractive face with pale skin. The sight of fangs delicately touching his full bottom lip doesn't escape your notice. Fear is not your immediate reaction, though there's a hint of it lingering in the background, it doesn't overpower your growing fascination with the scene unfolding before you.

With your left still hand resting on his cheek, your other hand moves down his body, and you suddenly gasp as you feel the presence of a large stake piercing through his stomach. How could you have missed such a significant detail earlier? Nevertheless, you choose not to dwell on it any further.

After careful consideration, it became evident that his current predicament could be attributed to a group known as the Hunters. These individuals, predominantly middle-aged men, harbored an irrational aversion towards coexisting with Vampires. Their actions were nothing short of despicable, as they embarked on a merciless killing spree, sparing no one, not even innocent children; they were sick bastards.

Despite your firm pat on his cheek, he stays incoherent, lost in a world of pain, you're sure. Although filled with trepidation, you understand that it's necessary to remove the stake, it isn’t doing him any good to keep it inside. With a surge of determination, you grasp the wooden object and swiftly extract it, allowing it to drop onto the floor, quickly placing your free hand against his wound. Tenderly, you caress his cheek with your thumb, providing solace as he emits a loud groan and breathes heavily. "It's alright, shh."

The sensation of his blood gushing past your fingers sends a chilling shiver down your spine, as it saturates the carpet beneath you without any signs of slowing either. A momentary wave of panic washes over you, prompting you to swiftly retract your hand and grasp the knife nearby. Trembling with fear, you bring the blade up to your neck, carefully making a shallow incision, the slippery blade adding to your unease.

Despite the struggle, you manage to pull his body closer to yours, your right hand, stained with blood, finding the back of his head and guiding it towards the column of your neck. It takes a moment, but eventually, he stirs, his lips parting and his tongue darting out to taste the crimson liquid trickling down your shoulder.

A shiver runs through your entire being, and you attempt to calm yourself. The warmth of his tongue against your skin is a soothing sensation as it leisurely glides over you, diligently lapping up the spilled blood. Your body tenses as his fangs graze your flesh before finally piercing it, yet surprisingly, there is no pain, only a mild discomfort that quickly dissipates.

You jolt when he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you closer to his body, his face nuzzled against your neck. You find yourself gripping his hair, fingers intertwined in his tresses. Time seems to stretch on endlessly as he continues to drink from you, leaving you feeling lightheaded. When you manage to break free from his hold, he surprisingly allows you to step back, though he keeps a firm grasp on your slumped body.

As you gaze at him you notice your blood adorns his lips like a peculiar shade of lipstick, and the sight of his tongue darting out to taste it causes the bite mark to throb, sending delightful tingles coursing through your entire body. Despite the gentleness with which he holds you, his verdant eyes are filled with unadulterated horror and fear.

You steal a quick glance at his wound, only to find that the bleeding has ceased completely, suggesting that the injury is already healing itself. Swiftly, he rises from the floor, effortlessly lifting you in his arms and laying you on the basement couch.

Your body quivers and becomes drenched in sweat, gradually sinking into the softness of the couch. What kind of bizarre scenario is unfolding here? You want to reassure this stranger that you're okay, even though he almost drank you dry. Perhaps it's the genuine concern and remorse in his eyes, but as soon as you hear his voice, you find yourself forgiving him effortlessly. His voice is gentle, and sweet. As the LED lights gradually fade from your vision, so does the presence of the vampire intruder.

You awaken to find yourself disoriented, unsure of how much time has passed. As you regain some form of consciousness, you notice the vampire boy beside you, his green eyes bright and attentive. His cheeks and eyes are red from crying and rubbing the tears away, you notice. His lashes are wet as well, his lips pouty and his knees tucked underneath himself. The red glow of the LEDs cast an eerie light on the scene, illuminating his features as you turn to face him, watching as he perks up.

“ You’re awake! ”

You remain silent, feeling the stiffness in your neck and the overwhelming urge to return to sleep. However, he prevents that from happening by placing his hand on your thigh, gently prodding you to wake up. Reluctantly, you open your eyes, questioning why you are so composed in such a strange scenario. As you reach up to touch your neck, you recoil at the two, very deep holes left in your skin.

Blushing furiously, the vampire boy fidgeted with his fingers, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours. "M'sorry, didn't mean to-- really." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. After a brief pause, he mustered the courage to meet your steady, stoic, and sleepy stare, his ears now tinged with a rosy hue. "I-I can make it go away if you want? My saliva has healing properties, b-but it's also, um--." The boy's voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words, too flustered to realize that you had tuned out his words completely.

Upon returning his attention to you, he offers yet another apology, his voice cute and soft. Feeling too weary to reply and not particularly inclined to elaborate on the injury to your loved ones, you emit a grunt of agreement towards his proposition. Although this turn of events was somewhat underwhelming compared to your initial expectations, you chose not to voice any grievances.

"My name is Elias, by the way," he reveals abruptly, his bottom lip finding refuge in his mouth as a sign of his nervousness. With wide green eyes, he hastily scans your face, his heart skipping a beat as your gaze meets his, seemingly uninterested. This lack of enthusiasm from you triggers a swarm of butterflies in his stomach, creating a whirlwind of emotions within him. You emit a soft hum and tilt your head slightly. He looks worried for a moment, but then, he leans in, resting his head in the curve of your neck, his warm tongue gliding smoothly across your skin like silk.

The sensation of your skin repairing itself is undeniably peculiar, and it's not something you'd willingly want to go through again. He pulls away slowly, swallowing nervously. "H-how do you feel?" Your eyes meet his, and a faint smile graces your lips, though it appears drowsy and unsteady, it still manages to make his cheeks blush. "I feel fine." The sound of your voice causes his breath to catch, it's both gentle and resolute, igniting a warmth that spreads through his chest.

A searing heat rises from underneath your skin, causing a scorching sensation to travel from your calves to your thighs, you can't help but furrow your eyebrows in response. The calmness that enveloped your heart mere moments ago is now replaced by a thunderous pounding, almost reaching a level of pain, within your ribcage.

Elias gazes anxiously as your skin becomes shiny with sweat, your lips parting to release warm, shallow breaths. Your face is flushed with warmth and a twitch starts in your eyebrows. The blonde sniffles and dabs at your forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, frowning softly. "M'sorry, I-I told you that this would happen." His tone carries a hint of accusation, but your sharp, unfocused stare prompts him to apologize softly. "Didn't want this to happen, sorry." You brush his hand from your face and let out a shuddering breath, your breast tender and achy. "Shh, you're so loud. What the hell is happening?"

The vampire with blonde hair appears momentarily perplexed, but then his attractive green eyes gradually widen, displaying a look of regret. "My saliva can heal people, but it also acts as a... s-stimulant," Elias swallows thickly as you sit up slowly, your shirt becoming sheer from the copious amount of sweat you're drenched in. ".. an aphrodisiac."

"Why didn't you say anything?" You rasp, allowing your head to rest heavily on the couch cushions. Elias pouts, tears stinging his eyes. "I did! It's your fault for not listening!" Tilting your head, your face contorts with anger, causing Elias to tightly squeeze his thighs together. "Huh? My fault?" Your words taper off slowly before you let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

Leaning in, you grasp his cheeks firmly, pulling him closer until your breaths intermingle, feeling a shiver run through you as he places his hands on your thighs for support, his cheeks flushed with color. "Regardless, you'll help me, won't you?"

Before he can question what you mean, he lets out a yelp when you pounce on him, lips pressing against his in haste. He lets out a soft whimper, gripping onto your shirt tightly, surrendering to your dominance. Elias savors the flavor of your kiss, finding it both sweet and familiar. You are completely in charge of this encounter, dominating him with your mouth effortlessly. Your tongue sliding against his own in a violent dance, your saliva is as sweet as your blood and pools down his cheeks. You are absolutely captivating.

With a gentle pull, you withdraw, your eyes hooded and your lips swollen, causing a flush to spread across his face. He lies there, surrendering to your touch, as your hands caress his body. A breathy, hiccuping moan escapes his lips when you firmly grasp him through his pants, while your mouth explores his neck, kissing and sucking on his pale skin. It seems effortless for you to mark him as your own.

"W-wait, you're not thinki-" In a moment of hesitation, he halts his words, captivated by the sight of you retreating, gracefully slipping the oversized shirt over your head— breast spilling out from the cotton. The vampire lies there, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his face adorned with a cute expression. Unable to resist, you lean down and kiss him silly again. You love the way he eagerly searches for your lips, moaning into your mouth and clenching his eyes shut.

Lost in the fog of your drugged state, you clumsily distance yourself from him, regaining your balance and enticingly sliding your shorts down your legs, with your panties obediently following suit. The vampire stares at you with pure awe in his eyes, begging for you to do something to him.

By now, he’s slightly sat up, looking up at you with expecting eyes. You nonchalantly approach him, barely able to contain your laughter as he attempts to guide you onto his lap. You proceed until you reach his craned neck. You confidently straddle his face, sensually lowering your dripping cunt onto his parted lips.

You run your fingers through his tousled blonde locks, gazing deeply into his eyes. With a condescending tilt of your head, you tighten your hold. "You'll behave for me, won't you? You can manage that, especially after what you did to me." Elias whimpers against your pussy at your accusation and nods eagerly with wide, teary eyes and flushed ears. Your pleased smile makes his cock throb within his pants and he instinctively squeezes his thighs together once more.

The vampire eagerly laps at your pussy, moaning at how good you taste on his tongue, his free hand gliding up your legs to settle on your hips softly. He adores the way your fingers entwine in his hair, gripping tightly, as your hips sway and gyrate against his mouth. You’re using him like he’s a toy, seemingly unconcerned about the possibility of causing him pain ( which you aren’t. )

The intoxicating sound of your moans fills the air, a tantalizing melody that captivates him completely. They aren't high-pitched or forced, but a velvety resonance, deep and alluring. The occasional hitch in your breath and the graceful tilt of your head let him know that he’s doing good.

As he takes your puffy clit into his mouth, a fang gently scrapes over your, the potent aphrodisiac intensifying the already heightened sensitivity. Elias whines as you cum, his mouth and chin drenched in your release. With quivering thighs you press against his tongue, grinding against it with increasing urgency, while a soft mewl escapes your lips, your pussy fluttering against his eager mouth.

With shaky legs you wiggle off of him, straddling his waist and claiming his lips in a sloppy kiss, groaning at the sweet, musky taste of your arousal on his tongue. Elias' cock throbs. It's thick and hard in his pants, and he needily rubs his bulge against your pulsating cunt, with desperate whimpers.

He’s moaning at the sound of your voice, it's mocking and patronizing. He looks up at you through bleary, pussy drunk eyes, drooling over himself. You giggle at this and wipe it away with your thumb, smearing it across his lips. His tongue eagerly darts out to kitten lick your finger. “Such a good boy, d'you like eating my pussy?” The vampire is nodding fervently, cock twitching in his pants when you snicker, brushing your lips against his teasingly. “I want to hear you say it, say you liked eating my pussy.”

He doesn't hold back, eager to please you. “I loved eating your pussy s'much. You taste s'good.” His cheeks flush at his explicit words, but the dark pleasure that resides in your eyes makes up for it. “Good job, was that so hard puppy?” Elias' cock jumps at the sound of your praise and he shakes his head, biting his lip, "Mhm mhn." He jolts, startled as you undo his jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly.

Your eyes stay glued to his as you drool onto your hand, hand slipping down his boxers. He's stiff, pulsating in your warm, slick grasp. He's long and thick but you think nothing of it. Your hand moves deliberately, rolling down his shaft in a slow, fisting motion, his green eyes blurry and locked on yours. Your thumb caresses his sensitive tip, gathering the glistening droplets of precum and using it as lube. Elias whines and bucks his hips, eyebrows furrowing and chest heaving.

You grin at his fucked out face and speed up, focusing your hand on his sensitive, leaky tip. "Does it feel good?" He’s nodding quickly, leaning forward to kiss you sweetly, sucking shyly on your tongue. He almost cums in your hand when you pull away, tongue lolling out.

With fervent kisses and fervid praises, you leave a trail of marks upon his body. His cock throbs with a delicious ache, his orgasm building slowly as you unknowingly edge him, tears prick his eyes as you swipe across his overly sensitive tip again. His moans are like symphonies, whining and begging for you to make him cum.

“ N-no more, I can’t, please, let me c-cum, please. I’ll do anything, just p-please.” His words stumble out, his hips jerking involuntarily. You pause for a second, then give in, planting a tender kiss on his lips. You press him down against the velvety carpet, positioning your sloppy pussy over his cock, and swaying your hips, sliding him through your swollen folds, his mushroom tip catching on your clenching hole.

Smiling at his tortured face, you slowly sink onto his cock, your thighs shaking as he stretches you out in the most delicious way. Elias buries his face into the carpet, a deep groan leaving his lips. Your gummy, slick walls squeeze him in a vice grip, reluctantly yielding to his thickness. "Mmph--!! You're too tight, wait, s'too much."

Ignoring his prattling you bring your hands up to rest against his stomach, lifting from his cock before dropping back down to take the rest of him inside of you. An overwhelming tingling causes your pussy to flutter around him, your cheeks flushing and a whine escaping your lips. "You're so big...you feel s'good." You halfheartedly snicker when he twitches inside of you at the praise.

Without waiting, you start a bruising pace, bouncing on his cock and grinding your engorged clit into his pelvis. His cock bullies your cervix, his hot and slick precum coating your womb. He whimpers, hands gripping the fat of your hips, you look absolutely stunning. Your breasts sway temptingly in front of his face and he can't help but draw a stiffened nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling, careful of his fangs against your skin.

Your hips are moving quicker now, your moans getting louder as you shower him with sweet words and adorable nicknames, pushing him closer to the edge. When you stop right on his sensitive tip and grind, he’s seeing stars. He’s cumming hard and long, thick, copious amounts of cum flooding your womb in hot spurts. He unlatches from your nipple, his head gently thumping against the carpet softly and back arching, his hips bucking and griding deftly into your spongey nerves, your pussy creaming around him. "M-mhmn! Cumming, m'cumming!" He whimpers, grip tightening on your waist.

Elias whines softly as you continue to bounce on his overly sensitive cock, his thick cum dripping onto his thighs. He tosses his head back and cries out, your cunt squeezing his member affectionately. “Such a good boy, you did so well.” The praise makes him flush and your lips slant over his in a kiss, your back bowing as your thighs shake, convulsing around him as you cum. You pull away, chest heaving.

"Are y-." He pauses as your eyes flutter closed and you collapse against him. Catching his breath, he let himself lay there, holding you close, the aphrodisiac must’ve worn off. His eyes start to slip shut after a few minutes but he tenses when he hears footsteps from upstairs.

"Honey! We're back!"

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