#like why can i see her inner thigh muscle? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

craisinsensation1029 · 2 months

Text

You Better Tr(eat) Her Right

Kento Nanami & Kishibe

saw a Kishibe and Nanami art by Yuana and it made me bite a wall. im a TsudaKen slut so ig thats also fitting :p

fem reader, smut, established relationship w Kishibe, voyeurism, cunnilingus, praise kink

1.3k

MDNI

The soft material of the velvet couch sinks softly beneath your weight as you squirm slightly.

The stubble on Kishibe’s cheeks drag along your skin as his lips suck on the most sensitive part of your neck. The prickling sensation is nothing compared to the pleasure his suckling provides, the perfect amount of pressure applied as he nips at the column of your throat, one of his large hands kneading a nipple between his fingers.

“K-Kis—“ you start to moan out, craning your neck to give him more access.

“Don’t be rude, baby.” His voice is muffled against your neck as his tongue licks a stripe from the base up to your earlobe. His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks again, “We have a guest, don’t make him feel unwanted now.”

The guest in question is the younger blond man between your legs, the palms of his large hands finding their home on the top of your thighs. Much like your lover his hands are rough, callouses contrasting the softness of the skin he’s grazing.

“Go on, Kento,” Kishibe encourages, breaking his attention away from your neck to urge the younger man’s face closer to your heat. Kishibe’s hand finds home on the back of Nanami’s neck as his nose brushes against your clit that’s bared to him, making your breath hitch. “I promised her that you would be a good time.” You feel your heart hammering in your chest as Nanami nods, his tongue darting out experimentally lapping at your slit.

His warm tongue against one of your most sensitive parts makes you writhe as your mind starts to wander to a place far off from reality, a plane where pleasure is the only thing that exists. Kishibe though, is pretty positive it can feel even better for now. “Don’t be all shy now,” Kishibe chastises, forcing Nanami’s head even closer to your cunt. “Eat her pussy like you mean it.”

“Fuck,” Nanami moans, palms squeezing the tops of your thighs tighter as your scent invades his nostrils, your taste beginning to ease the ache of his desire.

Kishibe is a prideful man, you see. He isn’t shy to boast about his strength, his wisdom, his most prized possessions. And you—his perfect, pretty little girlfriend and the treasure between your thighs always is incredibly important. So of course when he asked Nanami if he wanted to taste, he found himself agreeing, knowing that Kishibe wouldn’t settle for less than the best.

“O-oh,” you moan softly. Nanami really was being too conservative before, but as he moans against you and lets his tongue explore every inch of your slit, he realizes that he shouldn’t have tried to hold back in the first place. He sees why Kishibe can never shut up about your cunt.

“That’s it,” Kishibe praises, feeling much more satisfaction when he hears consecutive moans escaping your lips. He’d be damned if he shared with someone that wasn’t going to shower your heavenly pussy with the attention it deserves.

His palm moves from the back of Nanami’s neck to your inner knee, coaxing it open more as Nanami continues letting his tongue lave over you; slow licks as his tongue flattens completely against your slit, fast licks as he lets the warm muscle dip shallowly into your hole. “That feels good, doesn’t it baby?” But the answer is obvious from the way your back is arching off the back of the couch, from the way his hand is the only thing keeping your legs open.

“S-So good,” you manage to say through bated breaths, body trembling with the utmost arousal.

“Tell him.”

“A-Ah,” you breathe out, your hand taking the spot where Kishibe’s just were, urging Nanami’s head even closer to you as your hips begin to gyrate. “K-Kento that’s s’good.”

“Good girl, fuck his face just like that.” Kishibe looks down at Nanami as his tongue continues to work at you. Nanami truly does resemble a man starved, his eyes closed as his face stays buried between your thighs, the motion of his pleasing movements seeming like the most autonomous thing he has done. “Taste good, doesn’t she?”

“Mhm.” Nanami shameless moans against your cunt, uncaring of his struggle to breathe as he continues to lasciviously please with with his tongue. “So fucking sweet.” His other hand moves to to push your other knee outward, your cunt completely at his mercy as he continues to letting his tongue explore every inch of your cunt, wanting the taste to be forever engrained in his mind. The movement of your hips against his face fuels him further as he starts to feel your little hole quiver. “Fuck, she’s so sensitive,” he murmurs, every single one of your pants and moans making his cock confined in his slacks throb.

“Ain’t she?” Kishibe slings his arm around your shoulder, using the palm of his hand to make you look at him. It’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but the sight only makes Kishibe smile. Your glazed over expression is one he can’t really see in full when he’s pleasing you himself, and fuck is it an erotic sight. “Kento,” he says, eyes still on you while yours are fluttering shut. “Suck her clit.”

Nanami doesn’t bother to reply, silently doing as instructed as he closes his mouth around your clit, sucking the engorged bud into his mouth. Your hips writhe as your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Stifled moans aren’t what Kishibe is interested in hearing however as he frees your lip, running his thumb across it. “Come on baby, you’re better than that,” he coos, still watching you struggle to keep your eyes open, your body vibrating with pleasure. Yet, he continues his taunts. “What did I say before?” he tsks. “If it feels good, tell him.”

Your eyes widen, though its hard to discern if its from the electrifying sensation of Nanami’s warm mouth sucking on your clit like its a never ending piece of candy or from Kishibe’s insistence of you praising another man in front of him, but it doesn’t matter. He always gets what he wants. So of course his own cock throbs when you cry out, “K-Kento, fuuuuuuck.”

Nanami releases the bud from his lips to lick a stripe up your heat before sucking your clit into his mouth again, one hand rubbing over his cock as bottom half of his face gets drenched in your essence. “K-Kento, fuck, ‘M s-s’close”.

“That’s better, baby.” Kishibe leans in, pressing a rough kiss to your lips, content with swallowing your moans this time around as he lets his tongue barge into your mouth. The lingering taste of beer and nicotine parades across your tastebuds as your eyes fall shut, the bliss of two tongues dancing over different parts of your body, making their claim brings you close and closer to the edge.

Your legs shake almost violently as the coil in your stomach begins to rapidly unwind. It’s like a freight train hitting you, Kishibe’s tongue bullying your mouth as Nanami’s does the same to your cunt. “Fuck,” Kishibe groans against your mouth only pulling away enough to ensure that his words are audible. “Gonna come on his face aren’t you?”

“God, ye-yes,” you whine, hips still moving with a mind of their own, legs stretched open beyond what you truly think your flexibility is capable of. “K-Kento, gonna come, go—"

To your surprise, two fingers quickly plunge into you and curl against your g-spot, literally pulling your orgasm out of you. A long strong of moans leaves your lips as your back arches again, your walls spasming around Nanami’s digits as he begins to lick your cum. “So sweet,” Nanami murmurs, squeezing his cock through its confines once more.

“Tight too,” Kishibe chuckles, watching as Nanami doesn’t miss a single drop of you. “But you’re about to find out.”

#kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk x you #kento nanami #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #csm smut #csm kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe x y/n #kishibe x you #ebs writes

217 notes · View notes

jokeringcutio · 4 months

Text

STEPDAD!WILLIAM AFTON X READER “CINEMA” - MATURE/DRABBLE [ 2 ]

FNAF | William Afton (stepdad!) x (f) Reader | MATURE Warnings: Family Gathering, Secret Touching. AN: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader Universe

The cinema was dark, the action movie exploding on the screen in front of you. You were on a movie night out with your ‘new’ family. Your heart pounded in your chest as you sat sandwiched between your mother and stepfather, William Afton. Vanessa, your stepsister, sat on William's other side, engrossed in the movie. She still lived with her mom, so you didn’t see her as often.

As the protagonist dodged gunfire on the screen, you suddenly felt a hand on your thigh. You froze, eyes darting to the side to see William's fingers resting just above your knee. He didn't look at you, his attention wholly on the movie. The tension in your body skyrocketed, every muscle tightening as his fingers pressed gently into your skin.

"Can you believe this scene?" he murmured, a smile playing on his lips. Your mother nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen. It was like he wasn't even touching you.

But he was. You felt it.

His hand crept higher, inch by agonizing inch. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to jerk away from him. What if your mother noticed? What if Vanessa saw? You couldn't risk it, so you remained still, a deer caught in headlights.

"Such an incredible stunt," your mother agreed, completely oblivious to your situation. You tried to focus on the movie, tried to ignore the way William's fingers traced patterns on your inner thigh, but it was impossible. Why had you decided to wear a skirt today? Of all times?

Oh, you knew why. You had wanted to impress potential boyfriends. Heading out, even with your family, meant a chance to flaunt yourself. And as a lonely teenager with hormones raging through you, on the crisp of tipping your twenties, you had thought that dressing up like this was the best of ideas. Now you cursed your choice of wear. Because it meant that he could touch you as easily as this. Your breath hitched, and you prayed no one could hear it over the sound of explosions and gunshots.

"Are you okay?" Vanessa asked, leaning past William. Her concern only made things worse, guilt twisting your stomach into knots, but you managed a weak smile.

"Y-yeah, just a little jumpy from the movie," you whispered back. She nodded and returned her attention to the screen.

As the action movie played on, your heart raced for entirely different reasons. William's hand rested on your thigh like a coiled snake, waiting to strike. The feel of his skin against yours made you shudder, but you couldn't escape it. Your mother sat beside you, blissfully unaware. Vanessa's attention was focused on the movie as well. You were trapped.

William's hand moved higher, brushing the hem of your skirt. You held your breath, praying for the movie to end, for some kind of miracle to save you.

"Hey," Vanessa said suddenly, leaning over her father to address you. "Do you want some popcorn or something?"

William's hand retreated at once, like a guilty child caught in the act. You exhaled, grateful for the reprieve. "Oh, right," you whispered, your voice a little shaky. "I’ll have the usual."

"Oh, could you get me a soda?” your mother asked, and Vanessa nodded.

“I could come along,” you offered, stirring to get up. Beside you, William tensed, as if he hadn’t anticipated your action. For a moment, you thought you could escape your stepfather’s advances. Bonding with your stepsister seemed like a much better alternative than staying here and being subjected to this – and all the temptation it brought along with it.

But Vanessa cut your luck down, shaking her head as she moved away. “No, I have this,” she said, smiling kindly. “You just keep enjoying the movie, sis,” and your heart plummeted in your chest.

She was gone before you could get up to follow, and as soon as she left to fetch the snacks, William's hand returned to your thigh, creeping beneath your skirt with a newfound boldness.

"Amazing stunt work in this film, don’t you agree?" he commented casually, striking up a conversation with your mother while his fingers brushed against the delicate fabric of your panties. You clenched your thighs together in a futile attempt to stop him, but it only seemed to spur him on.

"Truly incredible," your mother agreed, completely engrossed in the on-screen action. Her obliviousness drove a spike of fear through your chest.

You tried to focus on the explosions and fight scenes, but every stroke of his fingers against your panties sent electric jolts through your body. He was relentless, smirking as you squirmed in your seat. Your breath hitched, and you prayed no one could hear you over the cacophony of sound from the movie.

"Is everything okay, dear?" your mother asked, finally taking notice of your discomfort.

"Y-yeah," you lied, desperate to keep your secret. "I think I need to, you know… visit the er…”

She nodded in understanding, finally allowing you a chance to get up. William’s hand slipped from between your legs just in time for your mom to notice. You caught sight of the way he wiped his fingers past his pants, not in a way that showed disgust but rather like he wanted to keep it as a treasure.

Startled by the action, you stared down at him. Vanessa returned just in time, her hands full of popcorn and soda. You excused yourself and rushed past them, taking your time in the bathroom and splashing your face with cold water before you returned. As the seat next to Vanessa was empty, you decided to sit next to her, avoiding direct contact with your stepdad.

As the movie continued, your mind raced with a thousand questions. It had become obvious that your stepdad was becoming bold, making moves on you while your mother was there. You realized you were lucky. How much further would he have gone if you hadn't changed seats? That thought sent a whole new shiver down your spine. Because...how much further would he take things?

During the remainder of the movie, you felt his intense eyes upon you. His pleasant conversation with your mom had ceased. And you smiled as you enjoyed your snack.

Let him gawk and be pissed, you thought. You wouldn’t be an easy lay. The old man would have to try harder if he wanted to get his hands on you again. ~

Taglist: @likoplays @2pacl0ve

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

#william afton x reader #stepdad!WilliamAfton #Stepdaughter Reader #stepdad x stepdaughter #William afton x you #drabble #age difference

260 notes · View notes

wandagcre · 7 months

Text

sam with a plus-sized girlfriend | headcanons

Request: Hello! Can I request Sam with plus size y/n (fem obvi!), hcs, please? (Sfw and nsfw, if that's okay?) - this is requested by a plus sized fem!💗

Hope this lives up to your expectations! as a thick girl dealing with body dysmorphia this felt good to write. Thanks for the request 🥰

SFW

sam honestly isn't shallow when it comes to physical appearances. meaning she didn't care whether you were ripped or not, she only took notice about how it was comforting and trust worthy you were, which made sam love you just the same

and you being plus sized wasn't something sam stressed about. it was like a simple attraction for her. soon as she knew her feelings for you, she immediately made it known by making advances on you like she normally would. her eyes often lingered towards you and hugs were definitely a must for her.

she says you give the warmest and best ones!

sam is literally your number one cheerleader when it comes to trying out new kinds of clothing on your wardrobe! she doesn't fail to compliment you. it was genuine, too. she loved seeing you smile and carry yourself confidently <3

she's so smooth with it. sam affirms you with "you should wear it more often" or "it looks so pretty on you, my pretty girl" with a wide pearly grin on her face ;( she adores you so much!

it wasn't like you were unattractive, either. sam realized that the whole "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" couldn't be more true because she literally perceives you like a greek goddess and you effortlessly had her hypnotized, full attention on you always.

when you open up about it, questioning her why sam felt this way with you, she simply grabbed your hands and kissed them.

"it's like- you know how you constantly say you like my muscles? that you can't help but zone out to them? the same goes for me. i think about how it's a part that beautifully encapsulates you. and of course, who am i to think less than that?"

cue the waterworks because you were sobbing right after sam said it.

if you were conscious about eating "more" than usual, sam will respect that. though because she was worried you might pass out so she convinces you how it wouldn't be good to deprive your body of what you need.

she often eats with you too. sam's got a crazy appetite and she simply says she can't function without any energy nor burn whatever she needed at the gym if she didn't at all. that idea helped you ease your conscious self.

if you were insecure with your thighs, sam made it known subtly how she loved them. she often laid her head down on your lap and sam says that she liked how comfy it was while you ran your fingers through her hair.

NSFW

sam also mentions how you looked so great in your jeans/shorts and she can't even keep her hands off you each time. you notice it with the glint in her eyes, like she's trying to eat you already. sam hates winter because you'd wear layered clothes, says that it takes away her beloved sight.

sam is a sucker for your thighs. if you were conscious about it, she'll remind you how much she loved being affectionally crushed with them as she devours you... sam vividly retells you how she loved having you ride her face

she also loves pressing kisses on your inner thighs!! how you react to sam's teasing and especially when she bites, it titillates her. it motivates sam to do more

so big with body worshipping!!

THIGH RIDING. sam teasing you with "i love how my pretty girl gets all desperate and needy for me" or "you like that? using my thigh to hump me and trying to reach your climax? of course you do..."

mating position (with strap) or tribbing is one of her favorite positions with you. sam caresses and holds onto your tummy rolls, absolutely adoring how they look. whether you're on top or underneath sam, something about your look of being lost in the lust haze caused by her and seeing your body react to her - it felt for sam that your flexibility is challenged so well as she grinds/presses onto you fervently

sam loves fucking you in front of the mirror and making you look in it as she fingers you 😫 whispers reassuringly how you need to see it. how beautiful you look. it's definitely a thing that happens way more than once ;)

bonus: she does it whenever you're insecure or she's jealous of someone getting too chummy with you. if sam feels threatened enough, she'd like to emphasize visually in the mirror how it should only be her getting to touch your stunning body and be the one to wreck you in the most sinful ways 😮‍💨

#headcanons #sam carpenter x reader #non g!p sam #wlw #lesbian #scream vi #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter smut #anon #request

271 notes · View notes

poppy-metal · 4 months

Note

you just gave me a place to talk step sibling jordan- i'm not okay.. i can see them using their fem form as an excuse to do things that wouldn't usually pass under the radar like sleeping together, trying on clothes in the same changing stall EVEN SHOWERING TOGETHER OMG

- 🐞

100% on the sharing a bed together - nd the shower.... oof. they come in quick under the guise of needing a quick shower because they have practice early and you always take long ass showers. just sliding the door open and stepping in, rolling their eyes at your shocked squeak and the way your arms come up to cover your wet tits. "oh, chill the fuck out out. we've got the same bits - scootch over i need the water."

and you're so flustered, stepping back at their command on instinct just open mouthed. jordan in fem!form is.... beautiful to say the least. her tits are perfect, firm and full, settled on her chest. nipples soft due to the steam in the room, pale skin like porcelain - they turn to let the water run over their hair and now you're looking at their ass. the muscles in the backs of their taught tighs, broad shoulders with sharp shoulder blades. you feel funny.

"you could have knocked..." you grumble, reaching for your favorite strawberry scented body wash, looking away from their body.

jordan turns to face you again, rubbing shampoo through their hair and now you're aware of their eyes on your body. "you're a hot water hog. I'm not about to freeze my tits off because you aren't used to sharing, princess."

you lather the body wash in your hands, hesitating because their eyes are still on you. you feel them on your breasts, sliding down your navel, to the space between your thighs. your face heats hands coming to cup over your pussy.

"you're bare?" they say is so bluntly, eyes trained down even though you're hiding it now.

"dont look!" you hiss, squirming. "it - it feels better this way." you try not to glance down at their own cunt, but you cant help it - a thick thatch of hair rests between their legs. you swallow and look away, dont know why your inner walls clench. "can you just hurry up. this is weird."

they do. the encounter leaves you confused and flustered. and jordan.... well. they have no material to jerk off to. the sight of your bare pussy - your pretty little tits. the shy way you cowered against the shower wall. and they dont bother to keep quiet either. room right next to yours, you could easily overhear if you pressed your ear to your wall, the sounds of their grunts and the slick glide of their hand over their cock. tight curses hissed through teeth, and if you really listen you might even hear your name said.

#ask #🐞 anon #tw: stepcest #yeah.... pussy throbbibg #jordan li smut

141 notes · View notes

be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Do it again. Please.

I HATE COMING UP WITH TITLES.

now this could be, a little bit, related to empty promises - or perhaps an AU off of it but you could also read it completely as a stand alone one shot. Fulfilling a request + prompt fill for ‘do it again. please.’ kinda imagining as if e + p’s month long honeymoon had gone so well they’d extended it rather than returning home 2 days later.

pairing: fem!reader x Elvis Presley (1967)

warnings : 18+,18+, pwp. As always a lil bit of foreplay, teeny use of the term daddy, p in v sex, e can't stop + accidentally cums in her, couple of spanks here and there, tiny bit of innocence play? I use the term labia minora idk I have no excuse.

wc: miss VERY concise smut! 2.5k.

The honeymoon period seems never-ending, you’ve been together now for almost three years, although only married for a little while - five weeks to the day tomorrow. You’re still celebrating every day like it’s an anniversary, wrapped in one another and cocooned in a bubble from Hawaii and now in California. Elvis hasn’t had to work for a little while, he’d taken the month off for your honeymoon, and extended that by a few weeks, despite the near-constant calls from the Colonel now. He’s talking about doing something new, something different, but for the moment you’re content to have him with you, even if you can tell he’s starting to itch to get back to the studio. He keeps it mostly to himself though, and you’re doing your best to keep him entertained in any way you can. Despite the months, years, of all the practicing and the training, the novelty of actual sex hasn’t worn off yet for either of you and you can’t deny that you use it to your advantage.

Nonetheless, just because you’d had sex now didn’t mean Elvis didn’t still like doing other things; your thighs were still slightly sore from where he’d pushed them together to fuck in between last week, cock just about bumping against your folds. He’d gotten you off with his tongue before, ensuring a slick passage - using your own wetness as lubrication. But still, he’d fucked you raw, your inner thighs red and rashed. You knew he’d felt a little guilty about it, watching you run around in your swimsuit, marks clearly visible but it hadn’t stopped him from taking you on the sun-lounger and palming at the marks while he did so, after he’d sent his father and the mafia boys he couldn’t live without away. You should have perhaps been more embarrassed, knowing that they all knew why they’d been sent on a sudden errand, but in actuality you wanted him as much as he did you. Any reservations you might have had had been quickly forgotten as soon as he’d revealed his golden skin in the secluded garden.

You’d been out to dinner tonight, a fairly casual affair, but still an opportunity to dress up a little - although that dress was now thrown over the back of the bathroom door. You loved to see him in his element, relaxed and happy and it hadn’t taken much, the briefest of touches from your pinky finger on the walk out of the restaurant, a thigh knocking against his in the car for him to get the hint that you wanted to go straight to bed once you returned. He’d stripped you almost immediately as the door shut - barely taking the time to appreciate your special underwear.

You’re swiftly laid back on the bed, his arms lowering you as he kisses you, and he pulls away to take a second to look down at all of you. You can’t help but preen a little, pushing your chest up and your hips back as you watch him watch you. He’s slimmer than he was at the start of the year, it shows in the thin corded muscle that surrounds his ribs and in the way his powerful thighs give way to slender shins and legs - you don’t prefer him one way or another, but with his summer tan, sweat glistening across his skin, catching on the hairs on his chest and arms he looks like a goddamn vision. An image you couldn’t have even dreamt up. His hair, that had been so carefully styled in the day, now falling across his forehead - flopping down, you can’t resist reaching up, breaking the lingering silence of both your gazes, twisting a strand in your fingers.

He presses a kiss to your mouth - going where your hands tug him, before breaking your hold as he pulls back, his fingers sliding into you as he does. You moan at the intrusion but you’re so aroused that they barely catch on your entrance, and a little part of your brain that’s still capable of coherent thought wonders how, barely six months ago you couldn’t even get a finger in and now he’s molded you to him, carved out a space to slot in so perfectly that his fingers can just slip in. He crooks them just so - knowing intimately the exact spots to make you writhe. He takes his time, somehow despite his impatience in literally every other part of his life, he very rarely rushes this - ensuring that you’re not only wanting him by the time he moves on but that you’re desperate. Today is no exception, his other hand comes up to fiddle with a nipple, and you’re already sensitive enough that by the time he rolls one between his fingertips you can’t help but clench on his other hand, a jolt being sent straight down your belly. He continues to slip his fingers in and out of you, spreading them a little before nudging at your entrance with a third. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done this now, his penchant for dirty talk still surprises you, he’s incapable of silence constantly muttering praise against your skin. He moves his thumb, rubbing up the slick inner folds of your labia minora to your hitherto neglected clitoris. He’s narrating as he does;

“That’s it baby, Jesus Christ look at how wet you are - all for me, ain’t that right? Just gotta, gotta find that lil’ button of yours, get the right spot.” And he does. A swipe of his guitar roughened thumb and your body lifts from the bed, hips jerking. He laughs at you, a little cruelly, as your breathing hitches, eyes closing about to beg for more before he pulls his fingers out.

You shift on the bed, still slightly aghast at how filthy he is - holding his hand up and spreading his fingers, a line of your slick still connecting the two. You watch, breathe catching in your throat as he puts them in his own mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Your hips buck of their own accord and from his position between your spread thighs he presses his other hand on your tummy holding you down. You squirm, and he pulls out his now spit-slicked fingers from his mouth, pressing them back down to your burning core. He slips between the folds of your labia, fingers catching the puffy, wet, skin.

“I’m…I’m ready - El, please - please.” He grins, eyes still focussed where his fingers continue to play with you. You groan, clenching around nothing, desperate for something - for more.

He steadies you, lining himself up and pressing into you. You feel every inch, every centimetre of him as he pushes into you until he’s pressed in to the hilt - your legs being forced wider to accommodate him. There’s the hint of a burning stretch, but with barely a finger over your clit you can feel yourself relaxing into him, Little Elvis burrowing into the warm little home he’d created for himself. A home that had lain dormant, until Elvis as Pygmalion had moulded it to his exact dimensions - your vagina, in fact your whole body, his own Galatea.

He thrusts into you, famous hips doing their job as he grips your thighs and knees. You crunch up, unable to stop yourself, at the mounting pleasure - even though you’re not convinced it could be that attractive to have you thrashing about below him. But he breathes a laugh - it turning into a groan as he pulls out and pushes into you again, your body arching back.

“How’re you -“ He’s breathless, gasping out the words, “how’re you still so goddamn jumpy, so fucking jumpy like a lil baby rabbit honey, like you still ain’t used to it,” he’s practically just rambling and you zone out, letting his words wash over you as you concentrate just on his tone and the movements of his body in yours. “God that’s fucking it, yes, oh lord, how’s your yittle cunt so tight still, fit me so goddamn perfectly.” You try to clutch at his arms, where he’s holding your waist, and he pulls out, briefly, flipping you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and back to him. You don’t have time to protest, even though you don’t like it on your front as much, your breath snatched away by his sudden manhandling. You turn your face,

“Oh - El, daddy, I don’t -” He just pulls you back to him though, forcing your legs apart again, and burying himself back into your warm heat.

“I know, I know baby, but just, just for a little while, give me this -” He sounds moderately apologetic, although not very sincere, its hard to hold a conversation with his cock rocking in and out of you with every roll of his hips but you do your best.

“Ok, bu-but, but tomorr- “ His hand comes down on your ass - you jump, but can’t help the moan that follows as he interrupts your attempts at bargaining.

“No baby, you’ll give me it because I want it.” He growls, “Because you’re mine.” His hand comes down again, you can feel the sudden surge of wetness at that, his voice so rough it’s like he’s talking straight to your core. “Say it baby, say you’re mine. We’re married now darlin’. You belong - to - me.” You repeat it back to him, stuttering, promising that you’re;

“I’m - oh - all yours, all yours daddy,” You can hear the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, and the feel of his hands gripping into the marks he’d just made, “I’m, oh god, I’m - I belong to you,”

“Good girl.” You can’t see him, but you just know from his tone that he’s nodded to himself self-satisfactorily.

Oh,” Your eyes are rolling back in your head as he continues to fuck into you, your nipples catching on the bedspread as your body is dragged back and forth. “Oh fuck, fuck.” He spanks you again,

“None-a that fucking filthy language from you baby.” You can’t hear the smirk in his voice, too lost in the sensations, babbling an apology;

“Sorry, sorry, oh-“ He pulls you out again, and you whine at the loss. But soon his hand is back, finger stroking down your labia where you now remain open, puffy lips slipping between his fingers, slick with evidence of your arousal. His fingertips stroke around your tender entrance and you moan, hips grinding in circles, so close to the edge that you can feel it building in your stomach, only he pulls his hand away just at that moment. Elvis flips you onto your back and lowers himself to be just above you, sinking into you again. You’ve been pretty well acquainted with a multitude of different positions now, but you know you both have a soft spot for the simple ones. The ability to watch his face, eyebrows scrunching and mouth falling open, pouty lips pushed forward when his own pleasure mounts. The ability to hold onto his shoulders as he rocks into you, or pull him into a - usually pretty messy - kiss. He’s been dragging it out for so long now that it doesn’t take long for you to feel the edge again, and he reaches down with one hand, slipping it between your sticky sweaty bodies.

You’ve not managed this many times, only once before - he’s had to get you off with his fingers or tongue before or after, but as he hits just the right angle again, fingers rubbing over your clit in little circles - the internal and external stimulation combining to send you over the edge, body clenching tight. Your hips grind down in circular movements as you clamp down on him,

“Oh fuck - fuck, fuck baby, that feels so - oh shit, shit.” You feel him suddenly freeze, twitching inside you, the pulse of his sudden spurt of ejaculate deep within you. You pant, interrupting his swearing even as his hips start to move again,

“Wha- What,” You swallow, trying to talk around a tongue that suddenly feels too big for your mouth, “What was that?” He groans, his hips pressing himself tight against you before he pulls away with a reluctant sigh, rolling over onto his back beside you,

“S’ok, baby, s’ok - just oh god I just, I couldn’t stop - god you’ve made such a perfect little bitty home for me, Christ darlin’, I couldn’t stop.” He sounds almost a little nervous, and you wriggle, feeling the way your combined wetness was starting to cool.

“Oh....” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, a steady pulse, you’d liked it. “….do it again. Please?” He collapses, head falling back onto the pillow -

“Darlin’ I can’t just go again,” You frown,

“Why?" You blink over at him innocently, watching the flush dissipate from his cheekbones, "You make me do it again all the time.” You writhe next him as if to demonstrate your point. His hair flips forward as he shakes his head, rosy cheeks evident.

“God, baby, men can’t just - I’d hafta, gotta get myself primed again, I can’t just do it again this second.” You pout, feeling it start to slip out of you, the strange combination of its thickness against the thinness of your own orgasm and the tiny bit of sting where it touches your slightly sore entrance.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind ‘bout that baby honey you gotta," He sounds like he's thinking fast, "gotta push it out at least.” You frown, trying to regain control of your trembling limbs,

“El- I don’t -“ He interrupts you,

“Shh darling, listen to me, promise it’ll be fine you just gotta, go on baby…”

He groans, holding your legs open, leaning over to watch it bubble out of you, dribbling down onto the bedspread. You moan,

“Oh, El-it’s I can feel it,”

“That’s it little, quick ‘fore they get swimmin’.” You groan, rolling your hips at the sensation, and he reaches over, long fingers scooping it onto your inner thighs. You feel your tummy twitch with interest and you squirm as he pats at you a couple of times before wiping his hand on the cover.

“I… I liked that. Maybe… maybe you could do that again sometime.” He chuckles at you, and you both lay there panting for a second, recovering from the exertion and excitement. He gets up first - rolling you off the cover, throwing a washcloth your way - you do a cursory swipe but can’t get up the energy to do much more. Content to lie there as he pulls all the sheets up to make up for the loss of the additional layer of the bedspread. He climbs back into the bed, joining you where your eyelids are starting to droop closed.

His arms wrap around you, as he rolls into you, pulling you close to growl into your ear, “Jesus baby, where did that come from? You goddamn little minx,” He puts on a high-pitched voice, “What was that Elvis? Do it again!” You were pretending to be asleep, eyes tightly closed but you can’t help but snicker, his fingers finding their way under your rib cage - digging in, tickling you as you give up the pretense of sleep, caught out, squirming around and giggling.

tags:

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @vintageshanny

#elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis x reader #be-my-ally #elvis x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #writing prompt game #elvis request fill!

271 notes · View notes

vibratingskull · 6 months

Text

"I’d like to follow that Thrawn x f reader with the breeding kink where reader is pregnant and Thrawn makes good on his promise to keep her happy so the baby is healthy, if you know what I mean ;)" -anon

Part 1

Thrawnxf!reader

tag: smut, pregnancy, p in v, edging, orgasm denial, fluff

You sigh deeply. The sun rays caress your skin beside the pool, on your deckchair you bask, yawning in your bikini. This retreat was such a good idea! Thrawn truly has a brilliant mind. You stretch and hear a grumble. You lower your gaze to see Thrawn holding your swollen stomach, head laying on your belly, laying next to you on the chair. You were so sleepy you didn’t even feel him on you. You raise your sunglasses

“Well, hello sir.” You smile.

He doesn’t respond, only caressing your big stomach with a satisfied sigh. You caress his hair, putting your hand on his luscious strands. He raises his gaze to you.

“Did I wake you up?” He murmurs.

“No.” You whisper. “I just finished my nap.” you reposition yourself a bit, feeling the pain in your back starting to act up again. He grazes your skin with the tip of his fingers.

“How much time yet?” He sighs.

You cradle him with a chuckle “1 month. You can wait 1 month, no?”

“If I have to.” He grouses “But it is so long just to hold my children in my arms…”

He’s really grumpy and impatient lately. Nothing seems to satisfy him and he can’t keep his hand out of you, always holding your hand, holding your hips, circling your shoulders, and that’s only in public. When you’re alone he fucks you relentless, letting you an overstimulated mess or makes love to you languidly, leaving you crying out of love. You can’t walk 3 meters without feeling his presence behind your back. It doesn’t help that you found out you were pregnant with twins, when you told him he froze before puffing up his chest, proud of his accomplishment. He was unbearable for weeks on end, bragging to all the people you met, it was embarrassing; When you confronted him because it was highly unlike him and his rank he said he was not sorry and will continue to be proud of this achievement. You think he sees it as a proof of his virility and manhood, even though you’re not quite sure he has something to worry about in this department. And that’s how you spend your days, leisuring in a privatized maternity retreat of the Empire with a husband glued to your body.

One of your babies kicks your stomach.

“Ah… One of them is full of energy, it looks like.” You grin. “They seem impatient to meet you.”

“She seems impatient.” He corrects.

“How do you know?” You ask “We decided to keep the surprise.”

“I know because they’re mine.” He kisses you belly

“Well they’re mine too and I have no idea.” You snarl jokingly.

“It is because you are not a chiss…” He purrs, caressing your tummy with both hands reverently..

Do chiss have a deeper bond with their child than human? Does he communicate with them in ways you don’t understand? Is that why he doesn't leave your side all day long?

You feel jealousy stinging you.

“Well there is no reason to brag. I feel them in a way you could never understand.” You respond harshly, tear behind your eyes.

Pregnancy hormones… You still lose control sometimes.

He looks up to you, searching into your gaze.

“You are angry.” He simply states.

“No.” False.

“Yes you are. You are in pain and frustrated.” He kisses the palm of your hand. “I know just what you need.” He lowers himself between your legs, licking your soft tummy all the way.

“No. Oh nooo…” You grizzle “Thrawn, I beg of you. I already came 5 times since this morning. I can’t take another round.”

“Yes you can.” He kisses your inner thighs tenderly. “And you will. It will ease your muscles and balance your hormones.”

“Please, please, please, please, argh-” He cuts you off by licking your cunt through the fabric of your swimsuit, he kisses it deeply, wetting the fabric. Your tired and overstimulated core clenches at the soft sensation. “Oh maker no, please I can’t. Ah-” He pushed the fabric to the side to trail your slit with his tongue.

He purrs.

“Keep pleading for me, and I might listen to you.” He grasps your tender thighs and dive between your legs, he sloppily laps your pussylips, teasing your clit. You dig your nails in the plasticat of the deckchair, holding on for dear life. He sucks and circles your nervous bud, licking across it like a lollipop. Your breath quickens and soon you start to pant and sweat under the blazing sun, getting all worked up like a basic hoe by your dear husband. God he’s still so good at eating your pussy! You whine under his ministrations, feeling the muscles of your thighs tensing up. He gently needs them with his warm and strong hands. With your 8 months pregnant belly you can’t see what he’s about to do and that’s thrilling and exciting. You yelp when he takes a big sloppy lap of your juices with the flat of his tongue.

“You taste so good, ch’acah. Even more since you are pregnant. Another reason to keep you like this, the list keeps getting longer…”

You huff and pant.

“Let me deliver these two and we’ll talk about it.”

“That is already decided.” He chides “They will need siblings to have fun, and we would be neglectful parents to not tend to their needs.”

He spreads your pussylips with two of his fingers and inserts his wet tongue inside your wet walls. You can't help but moan and throw your head backward. He trails it until he finds your G-spot and licks furiously at the gummy spot, teasing and tickling with the tip of his tongue. You feel your juices and his drool dripping on the skin of your ass and the chair, your walls are saturated with blood and all puffy and swollen like your clit. Thrawn grunts and pants, he doesn’t refrain from his guttural moan. He sounds like an animal, a ravenous predator feasting on his prey. He makes absolutely obscene and satisfied noises so far away from his well adjusted and elegant Grand Admiral personna. Sometimes you wonder if the pregnancy doesn’t have more effects on him than you. He tonguefucks you until you orgasm and you ride his tongue with delight with a strangled cry. All your walls clench and tense up around his tongue and he drinks what you give him with a deep purr, so much you feel his wet limb vibrate against your overstimulated flesh. The tension snaps and all your body relaxes very suddenly and your torso relapses on the backrest with a ‘oof’. You breathe deeply to catch your breath as he finishes to wash you.

“Thanks Maker, it’s over…” You pant, massaging your eyes.

“Over? It was just the appetizer, we still have the main course.” he announces raising on his knees to free his erection from his swimsuit, he gives it a few strokes and lay it against your pussy lips, you can feel the pre-cum dripping on your sensitive skin.

“Thrawn, you can’t be serious?” You yelp and protest, horrified.

“It is your fault after all. You tempt me all day long in this tiny bikini with your round belly and swollen breast then you give me such a performance. I can not take it anymore.” He growls and bare his teeth, hovering over you nudging your entrance with the tip of his cock. “I have my desires and needs too…”

“Pretty sure it is because of your desires and needs we are in this situation!” you clap back.

“You are still full of energy, I see. Good, you will need it.” He says darkly.

You gulp, was that a threat?

He enters you in one deep push, your sore hole all slick and sticky from your former orgasm. You cry as you can’t do much than take it, your swollen belly preventing you from moving underneath him. He fucks you like a beast would, pounding you mercilessly.

“Care-Careful the babies…” You manage to pronounce between your mewls.

“They are well protected by the amniotic fluid, I can not do them any harm, I verified.” He grunts. With both of his hands beside your head, he looms over you like a vulture, rutting in you like a rabid animal earning a whine at each thrust of his hips. Your breast and belly bounce almost comically and your eyes roll inside your skull of pleasure. He hungrily rocks his hips against yours, helping you climb that mountain, guiding you, pushing you higher and higher in the arcanas of pleasure. You feel your lower abdominals contracting more and more as he pushes deeper and deeper and you brace yourself for your next orgasm.

But he slows down, doing circling motions with his hips, keeping you on edge without pushing you farther, towards that sweet, sweet release.

“Wha-... You… Why?!” you ask, frustrated and confused.

“I told you you will need energy.” He coldly announces.

“But… Move!” You roll your hips on his cock but he slips out of you at your great damn. You shout in frustration. He trails your slit with his soaked dick.

“You need to roll out your pleasure… make it last…” He licks your cheek to your temple, poking your entrance with his shaft.

“Come one! Please!” You beg.

“No dear, we are doing it on my terms.” he shushes you, nudging your noses.

You greet your teeth and dig your nails in the flesh of his shoulders, he winces at the pain but doesn’t budge.

“Come on! Come on!”

“It is not you who worried about our babies just earlier?”

“Fuck you!”

He grins smugly..

“I a m on it , ch’acah.” He re-enters you, but your pleasure has long subsided and it’s not enough for you to orgasm.

“Hurry!” You rock your hips but he remains still. You try to fuck yourself but you need his help, help that he appears more than happy to retain from you. You end up stopping moving, hiccuping.

“I will fuck you as I please…” He pushes slowly, inch by inch “Longly…” another thrust gradually up to the hilt “Sensually…” another agonizingly slow “We have all the time in the world, why the rush?”

And for the next two hours he proceeds to fuck you languidly, slowly, holding your hand to the height of pleasure but refusing to push you beyond. You’re now a soaked, bruised, and overstimulated mess.

“This is so good ch’acah. You do not know how good you make me feel. I would like to spend my life buried in you.” He brushes your cheeks together, breathing deeply.

You don’t hear him.

You can’t under your sobs.

“Please… Please… Thrawn…” You whine tears rolling down your cheeks. “Please… Let me cum… I’ll be good, I promise…”

“I know you will.” He purrs, “You always are.” He licks one of your tears. “But I want to take my time, savor the experience, I take great delight in how your pussy strangles my cock, I enjoy feeling it clenching around me. And you ch’acah? Do you enjoy yourself? Do I please you as you love it?” He nibbles your lower lips, grinning.

Does he please you?

Hell yes!

But he knows you so well, he can predict when you will cum and he uses it to his advantage, rolling your pleasure, forcing you to endure his pleasurable assaults for hours, depriving you of your oh so sweet release and raising the pressure. You know when the tension will snap it will be absolutely glorious, but the way to the price is so, so long and difficult. If he wasn’t embracing you you feel you would fall apart.

“I… I…” Your words die in your throat and mewls take their place, your eyes rolling inside your skull, mouth agape.

“Cockdrunk my dear? You can not formulate a proper sentence, I see.” He playfully mocks, raising your legs to put them on his shoulder giving him better access to your swollen, slick pussy.

“Pleee-ee-eeeaaa-aaa-aase…” You cry, big tears rolling down soaking your pretty face, ruining your makeup.

He looms over you, forehead against forehead he brushes his nose with yours.

“Tell me you love me and I will give you anything you want.” He offers.

“I-I…” You're cut by some hard thrust of his hips. He lowly chuckles. From his point of view, this is incredibly amusing and so pleasurable. On your side this is more of a nerve wracking experience requiring endurance and trust, leaving you exhausted beyond measure, ravenous and needy.

You breathe deeply through your nose and gather your thoughts one last time.

“I… I love y-ah!” He caresses your clit tenderly between your two bodies, looking at you with a smug grin, proud of his master work.

You bite your lips to blood.

“I love you Thrawn!” You manage to say it in one breath. It took you all your will and self control but you did it!

He considers you with a raised eyebrow, wondering if you were worthy of his mercy. But a small satisfied grin come light up his face. He leans forward and kisses you so gently.

“I love you too, ch’acah.”

He embraces you tighter and without warning starts a neck breaking pace, pounding into you savagely, your hips meeting with obscene wet noises. You feel yourself squirting on his cock as gradually your pleasure builds back up towards that glorious release so desired.

And finally…

It happens.

All your body tenses up, your toes curl and you see stars and a bright white light. You cum with a cry, digging your nails in his blue flesh as waves of pleasures crash upon you, muffling any other sensation than absolute, pure, raw pleasure.

He continues to rock his hips for five seconds before swiftly slipping out of you and spurting his potent, thick semen on your cunt and thighs.

You pants like after an intense training session. It really, really took a toll on you. Thrawn slides to your side and lays with you, holding you in his arms, cradling you lovingly.

“Are you okay? I was not too harsh, was I?” He murmurs in your ear.

You snuggle against him, your big belly in the way, burying your face in his neck, inhaling his musk. He caresses your back and your hair, kissing your forehead.

“No…” You pants and yawn “It was… okay…” You feel your eyes closing after such an earth shattering orgasm. “I’m so… sleepy…”

“Sleep my angel, I will watch over you.” You feel his hand grazing your round stomach. “Over you three…”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #vibratingskull #fanfic #thrawn smut

86 notes · View notes

urfavstargirl1 · 1 year

Text

the darkest night - part 2 of 3

part 1

summary: teenage eddie and reader discover some hidden feelings in a game of truth or dare

cw: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, kissing, trauma (mentions of Eddie's dad going to jail), cursing, etc.,

word count: 3.8k

February 8th, 1986

“Punch bowl’s emptyyyy,” Gareth shouts from across the room, pouting from the kitchen.

“It’s all your fault,” Jeff replies in mock anger.

Gareth points a finger back in Jeff’s direction. “Noooo, you’re the one who said–”

“Remind me why I’m here again,” You lean over and whisper to Eddie as you watch the two boys drunkenly fight over a very meaningless bowl of jungle juice.

“Because you love me,” Eddie replies leaning forward and getting just a little too close to your face, trying to smirk, but feeling too hazy to fully commit to the gesture.

You gently shove Eddie and the stench of alcohol on his breath away, “Are you sure it’s not the fact that I just love partying with high schoolers so much I still do it even though I already graduated?”

“Eh,” Eddie dramatically shrugs, “Same difference.” “Truth or darrreeee,” Jeff shouts from the kitchen as him and Gareth bring more cups over to the living room.

“Truth or dare,” Gareth roars behind him.

Guess the whole punch bowl debacle didn’t take long to resolve.

You look around the room and see everyone gather in the living room. A few people take the empty seats on the couches around you while others bring a chair from the dining room or sit on the floor.

You place a comforting hand on Eddie’s forearm, grateful you both took it upon yourselves to stake claim on the love seat.

As much as you loved your best friend, Eddie, these were all his friends. After failing senior year the first two times, these were the people he grew to love in that hellhole of a high school and you never wanted to mess with that. But the only thing you had in common with them was your love for the boy with the wild head of curls.

You make eye contact with a girl across the room. She’s Gareth’s girlfriend and one of the only other girls here. You smile at her and she smiles back and shrugs.

The only other thing you know about her is that she’s in the school band. Practically everyone here has been at some point.

Soon enough, cups get passed around or refilled, ensuring that if anyone wasn’t drunk before, they will be pretty soon.

Gareth gets the game started and you watch the other kids play as you wait your turn.

The game kicks off with a dare for Gareth to go to the front yard and scream “penis” as loud as he can. His girlfriend chooses truth and has to answer who’s the weirdest person she’s ever had a wet dream about to which the answer was the nerdy boy from The Breakfast Club.

The game continues to go back and forth like that as other member’s of Eddie’s band and friends continue to play. You sip on your punch and laugh at all the right moments, but otherwise require much more alcohol to make things more bearable.

By the time it’s yours and Eddie’s turn, your limbs are feeling a lot softer, your skin warmer. It doesn’t take much effort to smile, but it does take a hand on Eddie’s leg to prop yourself upright. Even when you feel the muscles tense up under the black denim covering it.

“Truth or Dare Eds?”

Eddie scoffs and laughs, “You insult me.”

You look over to his friends and say, “It’s a dare. Whatcha got?”

Gareth and Jeff and the boys look at each other with a devilish gleam. They only exchange glances before Gareth looks you and Eddie square in the eye. It’s as if the boys have already planned for this moment.

“We dare Eddie - to keep his hand on the very inner thigh of the person next to him till the next round,” Gareth commands with a smirk.

You turn to look at Eddie and see a slight clench to his jaw. As soon as it appears, it fades away as he grins and looks over to you, the only person next to him.

Eddie shakes his head and forcibly grins at Gareth, “Piece of cake.”

You laugh aloud, surprised the boys hadn’t dared him to give the room a strip tease or something.

“Yeah,” You hiccup, “Kind of a mild dare Gare, I was expecting more from the so called freaks of Hawkins High-ah!”

You lightly gasp, feeling your eyes widen and back arch slightly as Eddie’s rough hand gently smooths over the top of your thigh, dangerously close to your hips and settles down on the inner side, right at the apex of your soft thighs.

A warmth spreads through your cheeks as you blankly look from Eddie’s ring clad hand up to his face and scan the faces in the rest of the room, praying to god nobody noticed that.

“Alright, now that that’s settled,” Jeff says tauntingly before the rest of the eyes of the room land on you.

“Truth or dare?” Gareth asks.

You gulp. All of a sudden feeling like the room has gotten really hot. All too aware of the piercing stares and the ironclad grip of Eddie’s hand on your thigh. He’s looking at Gareth as he begins to rub slow circles in your skin with his thumb and you swear, if it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, surely his touch would be enough to make you pass out.

“Um, truth,” you croak out, trying to sound as normal as possible. It takes the strength of a thousand suns to keep your eyes from closing and your mouth from letting out a noise very inappropriate for a crowd of what is more or less strangers.

“Who was your childhood crush?” Jeff asks.

Your eyes widen and you jerk your head back a bit. That’s it?

You sigh in relief, worried you might’ve gotten a harder or more embarrassing question.

You inhale and shrug. With a shy smile you say, “That’s easy: Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow and his grip on your thigh tightens. His thumb stops rubbing circles as his fingers dip deeply into your flesh. He looks at you over his shoulder, “Which Eddie?”

You shake your head and laugh, “Uh, Munson? The only Eddie I know?”

Eddie shakes his head and turns to face you, never letting his hand move from your leg, “But your childhood crush could be anyone. What about Tom Cruise? Or all those John Travolta movies you made me watch.”

“Why do you think I made you watch them?” You answered perhaps a little too casually for Eddie’s ears.

“Huh,” is all Eddie seems capable of saying with a curt nod of his head.

How could he have missed it? All these years and he never would have thought you ever felt the same.

He instantly sobers up and his mind starts running through all the memories he had of you over the years.

Why is this news to him? Did you drop any hints before and he was just too dense to read them?

The long phone calls, notes passed in class, and joints shared in the back of his van. The bicycle races, shared mixtapes, and times at Skull Rock. All the little nothings that were perhaps everything.

But it all seemed to point to one moment. The day that’s been seared into his brain for the past 8 years, a memory so vivid it’s as though it happened only yesterday.

All it was was a stolen kiss between two kids. On one of the darkest nights of his life, she was his shining northern star.

He knew he was pushing his luck. That he’d gotten caught up in the moment. A moment he knew he’d never have again. But did it mean to her what it meant for him?

All these newfound questions and feelings come flooding in, taking his world and turning it upside down to–

“Earth to Eddie,” Gareth calls his name.

“Eds,” You whisper as you tap along his forearm.

“Huh?” Eddie shakes his head.

“It’s your turn again man,” Jeff says in an annoyed tone.

“Oh, my bad,” Eddie mumbles.

“You don’t have to keep holding her leg either,” Gareth adds.

“Oh,” Eddie says as he looks down and notices his hand still tucked between your legs. “Forgot it was even there.”

He makes a show of removing his hand, leaving an empty feeling between your thighs and the warmth of your legs, gone from his hand. It might be Eddie’s imagination, but after he removes his hand, you slightly shuffle closer to him.

“Let’s do truth,” Eddie says with a slight edge to his voice.

You’re mid sip when you nearly choke on your drink. When was the last time Eddie didn’t choose dare?

“Have you ever cheated on a test?” Jeff asks.

Eddie makes a face of disgust. What kind of bullshit question is that?

“Yeah man, who hasn’t?”

When the rest of the group looks to you for your choice, you pick truth.

“What’s the sexiest song you’ve ever heard?” Gareth asks.

Without hesitation, you answer, “I Was Made for Lovin’ You by Kiss.”

Eddie has to refrain from letting his eyes pop out of his head.

“Eddie actually showed me that song,” you goofily smile at him, not realizing the impact your words have on him and the growing heat in his veins.

“Really? Kiss?” Gareth’s girlfriend asks amusedly.

“Yeah, I know, kind of weird, but I don’t know, something about it just… gets me going for some reason,” you explain.

With every word you say Eddie swears he might just burst. It’s all too much to handle.

When the moment passes and he’s sure everyone is already focused on the next person, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

When he gets back, he finds you pouring yourself another drink in the kitchen.

“Hey Eds,” you smile at him as he stands beside you, You lean your head against him shoulder, “Having fun?”

Eddie watches as you take a swig from your cup. He forces a smile, “Yeah. You?”

You nod, letting the rest of your body move with each shake of your head, “I am now! Cheers.”

You look up at him and hold your cup out before taking another gulp.

“Alright thirsty girl, let’s get you back to the couch,” Eddie says as he lays a gentle hand on your lower back and guides you back to the living room. You almost trip over an empty beer can and Eddie’s sure he’ll have to take you home pretty soon.

The next round of truth or dare makes it’s way back to you and Eddie. Eddie uncharacteristically chooses truth again and is asked if he’s ever gone skinny dipping.

“Can’t say that I have Gareth the Great,” Eddie replies earnestly, just ready for this stupid game to be over with.

“You haven’t,” You asked, words slightly slurred as the alcohol in your system starts catching up to you. “Why not? It’s fun.”

Eddie looks at you incredulously. You’ve gone skinny dipping? Why is this the first he’s hearing? And more importantly, why wasn’t he there? He has a sneaking suspicion it was probably that one year you went to summer camp though.

He shrugs it off, “I don’t know. Guess the opportunity hasn’t really presented itself.”

You nod as the group proceeds to the next person.

“Give me a good dare, okay?” You say giddily, gleaming next to a very concerned Eddie. You hardly ever choose dare, especially not around people you don’t really know well.

But you’ve got adrenaline and alcohol flowing through your veins. Nothing else really matters

That is until your dare is to give someone in the room a lap dance.

Without hesitation you turn to face Eddie. The lust blown look in his big brown eyes doesn’t completely register with you. In fact, you’re not so much focused on Eddie, but on completing the dare as though it were just another part of your daily routine.

Without thinking, you place a hand on his shoulder and wobble as you move from sitting on your butt to sitting on your knees. You slip, but Eddie's strong hands catch you, grasping onto either of your arms.

“Easy there,” he whispers as he steadies you. He looks up at you and gulps, heart beating wildly in his chest.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

You nod and shrug as if to say, “It’s just a game, isn’t it?”

You take your hand and gently brush away some of the stray hairs by his face. You smile at him and place a hand on the hard muscle of his shoulder.

Pretty soon, Eddie is going to be a goner. He’s not going to last very long if you keep this up. And if he can help it, he refuses to let his friends see him like this.

As you prepare to drag your leg over his hips, you stumble again, even harder, forcing Eddie to grab you by the hips to steady you.

“That’s it, I’m calling it,” Eddie mutters.

“What’s wrong,” you ask, your face close enough to his that no one else in the room can hear your voices.

“You’re drunk, and I’m taking you home,” Eddie whispers into your ear as you feel his strong hands grab a hold of you.

Before you can say anything else, Eddie picks you up and rises from the couch.

“Sorry guys, Y/N’s not feeling too well anymore. I think we’re gonna call it a night,” Eddie apologetically waves to the people in the room.

“C’mon, the party was just getting started,” one of the boys goads.

As soon as Eddie sets you on the ground, you cling onto him, resting your now panging head onto his arm.

“Eds, the room is spinning,” you whisper.

“I know,” Eddie says as he wraps an arm around your mid-section.

Eddie says his goodbyes to the group as Gareth walks you two to the front door. He whispers something to Eddie. He’s close enough that you probably could have heard it if it weren’t for the pounding in your head.

Eddie slowly guides you to his van and sets you in the passenger seat. He buckles you in and makes his way to the driver's side.

He keeps the music low as he drives you to his uncle’s trailer.

“Eddieeeee, I don’t feel so good,” You whine as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

“I know sweetheart, we’re almost there,” Eddie says as he looks briefly in the rearview mirror.

“My head hurts,” you add.

“I know it does. When we get to the trailer, I’ll get you some medicine and it’ll make you feel better.”

You groan and let your head fall back against the seat. “Eddieeeee.”

Eddie hasn’t seen you get this drunk in a while. He almost forgot how cute you were or how much he secretly enjoyed being needed by you like this. Even if it included holding your hair back as you puked up your intestines back at the trailer.

“Eddie,” you softly sobbed as you clutched the rim of the toilet bowl, knees hurting from the tile, “It hurts.”

Eddie rubbed comforting circles along your back while his other hand kept holding your hair back.

“I’m never drinking again,” you huffed.

Eddie chuckled and stayed with you until everything had come out.

When you were sure you had nothing left to throw up, Eddie gave you a painkiller and a glass of water. He even offered you some crackers in case you could stomach it.

“C’mon, let’s go lie down,” Eddie whispers as he guides you to his room.

“Eds,” you call out with grabby hands. “What’s up?”

“I need pajamas,” you whined.

Eddie grabbed a band shirt and plaid pajama pants and handed them to you. Like most nights whenever you had slept over, you settled into the routine of facing away from each other to change, but this time, Eddie could see you from behind in the reflection of his mirror.

As he took off his shirt, so did you. Those little black lines of bra straps outlining your back felt like tiny magnets pulling him toward temptation. They wouldn’t go away even when you put the shirt he gave you on.

As he changed out of his jeans into pajama pants, he had to will himself to keep his eyes off you as you did the same or he knew he might get himself into some kind of trouble.

“Done,” you announced as you climbed into his bed. Eddie watched as you pulled the covers up and nestled your head on the pillow, heart warming at how comfortable you were around him.

A very shirtless Eddie climbed into bed with you and you instantly gravitated toward him, wanting for every part of your body to be touching his.

You entangled your legs with his, wrapped your arm around his torso and pressed your cheek along his chest, nuzzling your nose slightly.

You inhaled the scent of his skin and it brought a smile to your face.

Eddie was frozen for a moment, slightly taken aback by your clingier than normal behavior, but welcomed it anyway.

“You’re my best friend in the whole wide world, did you know that?” You asked with your eyes closed as you dragged a finger haphazardly across his chest.

“You know, I had a feeling you might,” Eddie teased.

“I love you Eds. Thanks for taking care of me.”

Eddie brought a hand up to the side of your head and gently caresseses it, combing through your hair and finishing with a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Anything for my favorite girl.”

“Yeah?” You ask with the biggest puppy dog eyes known to man.

“Yeah,” He shrugs, "you don't have to say it all surprised.”

“No,” You whine as you shuffle closer and cling your limbs around his, breathing in the scent of him in his chest, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You peer up at him, “I just - I don’t ever want you to stop.”

“I couldn't even if I tried.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really, you’re my girl, been my girl for a long time. I’d do anything for you”

You smile, eyes looking like stars. “I’d do anything for you too Eddie.”

“Oh, I know princess, you’ve been doing it since we were kids.”

“What do you mean?” You cock your head.

“I mean exactly what I said, you’ve always been there for me, been one of the few rock solids I've had in my life.”

“Well of course Eddie, you’re my best friend.”

Eddie fights the volcanic smile forming on his lips and the tears welling in his eyes

He cradles the back of your head with his hand and pushes your face deeper into his chest so you cant see the tears beginning to escape

“The darkest night never felt so bright with you by my side,” he whispers in your hair as you drag your finger along the base of his spine

You pull away and wipe away some of the tears that have fallen on his cheeks, “I love you Eddie.”

You and Eddie tell each other you love each other all the time, before you hang up the phone, whenever he drops you off at home, but something about the way you said it just now feels different.

“You… love me?”

“Yeah… one might even say, I’m in love with you.”

That can’t be the alcohol talking, right?

And here's his moment, he could finally say it, make it come true.

“I-I love you too, I’ve loved you since the day I saw you in first grade. You were wearing those cute little pigtails and ridiculous purple overalls as you were running around on the playground.”

You lightly smack his chest “Eddie, how could you? Those were my favorite.”

“Yeah well you're my favorite, how about that,” Eddie smugly teases as he mockingly gets in your face. He’s so full of love and joy, he could just kiss you. But despite the fact that you quite literally confessed your love for him, first, he might add, Eddie is suddenly self-conscious. You may love him, but would you even want to kiss him?

You sense his energy, absorbing up whatever confidence he seemed to just lose.

Even as his eyes soften and fall to your lips, you can’t help but do what you knew, even as a kid, to do: show him how much you love him.

“Eddie,” you whisper, as you place a finger under his chin and tilt his head up to look at you.

“Yeah,” he whispers back in confusion.

“Remember how you were my first kiss,” you ask in a soft voice, gazing at his eyes and lowering to his lips.

Eddie doesn’t nod. He always kind of assumed he was. You were his. Even if neither of you said it, till now.

“You never let me go for seconds.”

Eddie makes a noise, somewhere between a laugh and an exhale, “What? What are you talking about, crazy girl?”

You rolled your eyes, “You kissed me, and then pulled away. I wanted another, but then you kind of just cockblocked me.”

“What,” Eddie roars into laughter, “We were 12! You can’t, cock block anyone when you’re 12.”

“Eddie,” you laugh in frustration as you cup his cheek, “What I’m trying to say is, we’re long overdue for another kiss.”

“Are we,” Eddie shakily asks as your index finger drags from his cheekbone to his bottom lip.

“Mhm,” you hum, leaning forward slightly. You look up into his eyes, as if to ask, “Is this okay?”

“Please,” Eddie murmurs as he leans in the rest of the way, reigniting at the way your lips feel on his. A perfect fit.

In a similar way, Eddie’s lips are a warm refuge for yours. As he moves his lips with caution in a sweet rhythm against yours, they’re still just as slightly chapped as you remembered them to be.

And something about the thought of comparing your kiss to Eddie now, adults, to the one you shared as kids, makes you groan.

Eddie takes the moment to slip his tongue between your lips. He didn’t get the chance to taste you, and he doesn’t know if he ever will again, but he’ll be damned if he wakes up the next morning with any regrets.

Exploring each other's mouths is something new entirely. You’re in uncharted waters. But it’s okay, because you know that as long as you’re with Eddie, you’re okay.

Even though the technique is new, Eddie’s lips feel like you’re home.

From softly caressing his lips to tasting him, kissing Eddie is like a high you’ve never known. A moment, you never want to end.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst ##stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #urfavstargirl1

308 notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 9 months

Text

Chapter 7

A/N: Please defer to warning section in Chapter 1

-Chapter 6- -Chapter 8-

At first, Cassian was surprised when he found himself in a bedroom rather than a dungeon. Almost relieved. But he was well aware of Azriel’s nastier streak, and knew to keep his guard up.

But now his shadows have him tied to a chair, all because he was too preoccupied by how he could still taste you and hadn’t been paying the Spymaster a sensible amount of attention.

“I don’t see why you’re being so pissy about it. She’s fine. And more importantly, she liked it,” Cass insists, subtly pulling against the shadows binding him. Better to try and thaw him while Rhys isn’t there to encourage him. The male isn’t much better when it comes to you.

Azriel glares at him from across the room, making the darkness tighten around Cassian’s chest. “You acted recklessly,” he says, voice deceptively soft, warning enough it has the hairs at the back of the Warlord’s neck raising. But he won’t back down.

“I made progress. You’re just jealous that it was me who did it. That I was the first to get between her legs.” Cassian makes a show of getting nice and comfy in the seat, spreading the stance of his legs ever so slightly. “You’ve never learned how to curb that envy of yours. And look where it’s gotten you.”

Azriel gives him a look of warning—he shouldn’t be pushing the Shadowsinger right now, but he can’t resist the challenge. “It’s thanks to you, you know,” he drawls softly, matching the quiet lilt of the Spymaster’s voice, edged with possessive fury. His brother goes still, attention piercing in on the General. “When she admitted she liked the idea of someone dragging her down an alley? All it took was a little force on my part, and she was practically pleading for more.”

He throws the Shadowsinger a smug grin, one he knows he should keep to himself if he doesn’t want to make it worse, but he’s too caught up in the memory of having you release on his tongue that he doesn’t care. “She’s so sweet on the outside, and tastes even better, but you should have heard her. The things she was murmuring to herself, imagining she was begging me to stop?” He laughs, meeting Azriel’s icy gaze. “Maybe I’ll get Rhys to share the memory with you.”

It’s the last straw for the male, and Cassian stiffens, finally regaining an ounce of self-preservation when he steps forward into his shadows, vanishing.

Only to reappear at his back. Directly between his two, large wings.

“You want relief, Cass? Want it enough that you lost your cool and acted without thinking?” Azriel snarls softly, shadows skating up the muscles of his back, keeping the General still. “I can give you relief.”

Cassian jerks in the seat when he feels the Shadowsinger’s fingers dance along the sensitive membrane of his inner wing, hissing at the contact. His hands clench into fists as his side, gritting his teeth against the sensitivity. He can practically envision the vicious joy in Azriel’s eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“Like that?” The Shadowsinger murmurs, dragging the pads of his fingers along the dip beneath the peak of his wing, making Cassian inhale sharply. “Wish it was her? Wish she was the one touching you like this?” His hand wraps around the General’s throat, tipping his head back against the padded chair so he can watch his reactions clearly, hazel on hazel.

“Want to imagine that for me, Cass? Imagine she’s the one who’s got you tied up, all nice and ready for her?” His eyes flick to the Warlord’s lap, the clear outline of his arousal prominent. He hasn’t had a chance for relief since having his head between your thighs, and Azriel is fully capitalising off that little fact. Using it to his full advantage—exploiting it in every way he can.

“She’d probably like to see you like this, so torn up.” Silky shadows brush against the General’s wings, and he snarls at the taunting touch. “Such a greedy little vixen, isn’t she? Tell me, did she reach for you once you were done, or was she content to bask in her own pleasure and leave you starving?” Azriel asks pointedly, weaponising the information against the Warlord.

But Cassian grits his teeth, refusing to fall for it. And it’s then Azriel realises he’s being kept in the dark. There’s something the General doesn’t want him to know—something important, if he’s making such a valiant effort.

He halts all attention to the male’s wings, watching as he slumps a little in his chair, panting softly, colour high on his cheek bones.

Azriel settles his free hand over Cassian’s broad shoulder, leaning over him as he deftly drags it down the male’s chest, just shy of his cock. “You can tell me now, and avoid causing any more grief, Cassian.” He tightens his hold on the General’s throat, a quiet warning. A polite courtesy he’s extending, paying respect to their centuries of friendship. “Or I can make this difficult for you. You’re telling me one way or the other. Choose your path carefully, soldier.”

“I’m gone for not even the lesser part of an hour, and this is what I come back to?”

Both the males eye their High Lord warily, though for different reasons. The easy grin Rhys was wearing slips from his face as he takes in the scene, “what is it?”

Azriel straightens, and Cassian doesn’t know whether to be relieved or despairing the touch has left him. “He’s holding out on us. Have a look.” The General tenses, gritting his teeth as violet eyes land on his own. “Is that true?”

Maybe it would be better for him to cut his losses. They’ve all been after you for a while now—he shouldn’t try to monopolise you like this. You’re going to be theirs. Belong to all of them.

“She told me to take her,” he admits. “Tomorrow night. Even if she screams, and protests. She told me I should drag her away,” he breathes, “and do what I like.”

He doesn’t miss the look Rhys and Az share over the top of him. Because now they have a date for when to put their plan into action. And it’s much sooner that they could have even wished for.

#dark!poly!batboys smut #Pleasure over Morals #[***]#dark!fic

96 notes · View notes

abyssal-ali · 5 months

Text

Project #68 [Operation Concupiscence] - 4 (Final)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Ao3 Masterlist | Day 4: I can hear you moaning in your sleep and it's unbearable

Rating: M (Here comes the smut!) WC: 1.8k

TW: Demon AU, Demon Smut (e.g. wings & horns & tails; all the fun stuff)

Damian woke up much the same way he had the day before: Raven’s leg wrapped around his, his arms wrapped around her, purple-black hair tucked under his chin, morning wood pressing against her warmth.

With a silent groan, he rolled his head back onto his pillow. How was he going to approach this situation?

Cautiously shifting his hips revealed another exciting morning discovery: his tail had appeared and was twined around Raven’s ankles.

He carefully extricated his fifth limb and retracted it without disturbing his sleeping girlfriend (!), feeling rather accomplished.

That feeling was immediately dashed by horniness as she moaned, rubbing herself against his leg, her breasts brushing his arm.

He stiffened, restraining the impulse to return the action.

Raven’s nails dug into his back, her mouth dropping open. Her lashes fluttered.

Damian stayed frozen, unsure if he should help her out or simply stay where he was.

“Damian,” she repeated, a frown crossing her brow.

Unbidden, his thigh flexed upon hearing his name exit her mouth in such a sensuous manner.

Gradually, her violet eyes opened.

He was pleased to see she didn’t freeze like she had the day before. Instead, a small smirk crossed her lips. “Want a hand with that?”

“Hm?”

She huffed a laugh, moving back a small amount and nodding down to- oh, that problem.

“Only if you finally let me know what you sound like when you say my name like you mean it, Roth,” he murmured. “You were moaning my name in your dreams. It was unbearable.”

“Deal. But first…can I use your washroom? Morning breath,” she winced.

“Right. Yeah. Door on the left of my closet.”

Raven slipped off his bed, wiggling her hips with a sly smile as she went.

He took the opportunity to empty the pitcher of water he had on his nightstand and swirl a draught of breath freshener around his mouth before she returned.

Damian huffed, flopping back onto his pillows. Raven was his girlfriend. They’d slept together, in the literal sense. Could today get any better?

The answer was yes, it could.

Raven emerged from his washroom shyly, halfway to his bed before his brain restarted and confirmed that yes, his eyes were indeed taking in the glory that was his girlfriend’s nude body.

“Holy-”

He reached for her, relishing in the feel of the soft skin of her waist under his hands before he kissed her, lifting her up to straddle his lap.

~~~

Raven pulled back from the kiss, thoroughly seduced. “I thought I felt something this morning…around my ankle.”

A hint of colour swept across her boyfriend (!!!)’s cheeks. “That was my tail.”

Her eyes brightened. “You have a tail? I didn’t know that.”

“I usually keep it retracted or glamoured. No need for a potential weakness to get out.”

She hummed in understanding, threading her fingers through his soft locks as he kissed down her neck. The hums turned to moans as he catalogued which spots she responded best to.

“Do you want to know a secret,” she panted as he took her nipple in his mouth.

“Mmm,” he replied, swirling his tongue most distractingly around the nub.

Taking that as an affirmative, she continued. “I always thought tailed demons were extra sexy.”

Damian pulled away. “Why?” She traced each defined set of muscles. Azarath, he was such a beautiful creature. “Just imagine what you could do with a tail, al Ghul. They’re flexible, sensitive, delicate,” she licked up his chest. “Strong like an arm, to hold someone down. Limber like rope, to tie someone up. The possibilities are many.”

Damian’s fingers trailed teasingly up her inner thigh. “You make a substantial argument, Roth.”

She smiled, pleased, as his fingers found her core. “I know.”

Her head dropped back as he began rubbing small circles around her clit.

She reached down, feeling for the waistband of Damian’s sweats. Dipping her hand beneath, she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking in time to the pulses firing through her body.

He groaned, leaning forward to circle her nipple with his tongue. “You’re going to kill me, Roth.”

“You’ll be fine,” she panted, stretching around his finger. “Right there-”

Damian added another finger, immediately focusing on the spot she needed him.

“Don’t stop.”

He kissed up her neck, biting at her pulse. “Come for me, Raven.”

With a strangled cry, she clamped down around his fingers, sparks whiting out her vision.

When she came down from her high, Damian had kicked his sweats off and was stroking himself slowly, staring at her with an awed look in his eye. He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. “You’re so beautiful.”

Cupping his face with her hands, she returned him bite for bite, lick for lick, kiss for kiss. Slowly rolling until he was hovering over her, something at the edges of her vision caught her attention.

She pulled away, finding his tail flicking from side to side nervously.

It looked like any other demon’s tail she’d seen: about half the length of his body; slightly tapering from base to tip, which was the typical rounded spade shape; a greenish tint to the skin covering it, the colour associated with the al Ghuls.

Unconsciously licking her lips, she tore her gaze from it back to her boyfriend. “You have a very nice tail.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you want me to even the score?”

He tilted his head in silent acquiescing question.

Raven shifted to her natural demon form, her pale skin turning a slightly darker grey shade, her nubby horns and second pair of eyes emerging, and her wings spreading.

Damian matched her horns with his own pair, the shiny green and gold mottled material hardly longer than her hand.

“Your horns are pretty. It’s a shame you stay in your human form all the time.”

“So are yours,” Damian traced the curve of her wings, the light touch ruffling her feathers and sending a shiver of pleasure through her. “I always counted it a win when I could rile you enough that your eyes emerged.”

Lightly slapping his shoulder, she playfully scolded him.

His tail seized her wrist, and she fell silent, both pairs of eyes darkening.

“You like when I restrain you?” Damian rasped.

She nodded, fang poking her lip as she watched him move down her body until he reached the apex of her thighs, dropping kisses as he went.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he demanded, before opening his mouth and feasting on her dripping core.

Fighting to keep her eyes open, she focused on meeting his emerald gaze, small moans and whimpers escaping her bitten lips. He slid two fingers in, crooking them just right, and her hands flew to stabilize herself on his horns.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she growled. “Yes, Damian, there!”

His tail slapped at her breasts, the light sting reminding her to open her eyes.

He added a third finger, the stretch combined with his patient licking sending her over the edge for the second time.

Her shaking thighs loosened, freeing him from her clutches, and she leaned back against the pillows. His long tongue sensuously licked the remains of her pleasure off his face, his wink warming her core again.

Getting to her knees, Raven reached for his deliciously tempting length, hard and leaking precum. She opened her mouth, sucking at the head, running her tongue along the vein on the underside, fitting it as far down her throat as she could.

Damian muttered curses and praises as he gathered her hair in his hand, gently holding it back from her face.

Bracing her hands on his unfairly muscular thighs, she relaxed her throat, angling her jaw to take him even further. She only managed a couple bobs before he pulled out.

“Want to be inside you.”

With a flap of her wings, he was on his back and she was straddling him, running her core up and down his length.

“Stop teasing, Raven,” he growled, hands gripping her hips tight enough to leave a mark.

With a nip at his collarbone, she slid slowly onto him, relishing the stretch he provided.

“You’re so wet and hot,” he grunted, thrusting his hips up to meet her stroke for stroke.

“You feel so good,” she agreed, lifting one hand to play with her nipple.

Damian’s thumb brushed over her other nipple, freeing her hand to creep up his chest and rest at the base of his neck.

His eyes flew up from where they met to meet her eyes.

“Too much?” she rasped.

“No.” His other hand slid up between her breasts to return the favour. “You?”

She shook her head, clenching even harder as she rode him, causing a pained hiss.

“Please tell me you’re close.”

“After the first two? Yeah,” she sighed, plucking her nipple in time to the waves of pleasure building in her body.

She dragged her nails teasingly down Damian’s chest until she reached their joined bodies and began rubbing small, tight circles around her clit. The tip of his tail nudged her fingers away, taking over her pleasure.

Damian’s thrusts became harder; she shifted her hips so he would hit her sweet spot.

The building tension snapped and she came with a cry of his name, his climax following hers as he moaned her name.

Raven bonelessly slumped onto his chest, arms around his neck. “I don’t think I know my name.”

A breathless chuckle sounded in her ear. “I only know it because I don’t know anything else. Raven,” he kissed behind her ear. “Raven.” Her jaw. “Raven.” The edge of her mouth. “Raven,” he said tenderly, tucking her sweaty hair behind her ear.

She stared adoringly down at him. “Damian.” She kissed him sweetly, stroking the planes of his cheek and jaw with her thumb. “I’m glad you’re my boyfriend.”

~~~

They showered together, enjoying the excuse to touch each other romantically, washing each other’s hair and lathering up their bodies. It may have been a bit more sensual than it strictly needed to be, but Raven put her foot down on another round; she was sore and hungry, and the aftermath would not be pretty.

Slipping into her jeans and sweater, she patted her flyaway hairs down and made sure she didn’t give off the air of “my rival-slash-best-friend and I are dating and sleeping together now and boy is it good” before she left his washroom and headed to the dining hall.

Damian was in his usual seat, but the secret smile and wink he gave her as she passed him made butterflies start fluttering in her stomach.

~~~

Professor Zatara called the pairs up to hand in their reports. Raven handed him their roll of parchment, but he called her back for a moment.

“You and al Ghul got along okay?”

She nodded. “More than okay–we’re dating now.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She headed back to her seat, smiling back at Damian.

Zachary Zatara prepared to collect his winnings from the rest of the staff. He hadn’t overtly made them confront their feelings, therefore he had no reason to be disqualified from the Roth-al Ghul dating speculation pot. No one could prove that he’d spelled the cauldrons to partner up certain students, anyways.

Well pleased with his scheming, he settled in his chair to grade his parchments.

*A/N: As with all smut please be aware that it is fictional and should not always be reproduced irl. (I'm saying that Demon physiology allows for them to choose whether or not they wish to be pregnant, negating the need for protection of some sort.) Damian and Raven were only giving the illusion of choking each other but if doing so irl please be very careful with it.

#damirae sauce week 2023 #damirae #demonbirds #ali writes #fic #damirae smut

44 notes · View notes

aemondsdoll · 1 year

Note

Hello, are your requests open? I would like to request modern Aemondxreader if it's possible, please?? 😸

She is Aegon's bestie and he drags her to some big party and of course he disappears after a while leaving her there alone.

The only person she recognizes in the crowd is Aegon's younger brother Aemond, who she always found really boring and annoying 😼 But he will show her he is not boring at all especially when he is dressed in all black and looks sexy as hell 😼😼

I've Got my Eye on you || Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader Pairing: Platonic!Aegon x reader, Romantic!Aemond x reader Summary: Something tells you that he's not the man he was. Warnings: Horny activities, best friends brother trope, grinding, heavy insinuations

You don't know why you even let Aegon drag you to this party. You're dressed clad in a red bodycon dress that hugged all of your curves just right, maximising your assets.

It only took Aegon minutes to see someone who wants his attention, leaving you behind in a room full of people you do not know. You scan the crowd, and your eyes catch onto Aegons little brother. The last time you saw Aemond, he was a nerd who stuck to his books, being silent most of the time. Now, here he is, infront of you, in a tight black shirt that accentuated his biceps, and gave a sneak peak of the muscles under his shirt. Your mouth watered at the sight, and he caught your eyes. Aemond smiles at you, and your stomach tightens. He beckons you over with two fingers, and your mind wanders. What would those fingers feel like deep inside of m- You stop yourself. Thats Aegons little brother. You remind yourself, and approach him. "You, are looking stunning tonight." He says once you're in earshot, "And you've certainly grown up," You reply, even though you're actually younger than him. "Why are you here alone?" Aemond asks, and you shrug. "I was with Aegon, but now he's disappeared somewhere." You say with a bit of a sour look on your face. "As Aegon does, I'll look after you, love." He says in that sweet voice, that made you feel like putty. You nod rapidly, "You're the only one I know here." You say again, sounding the slightest bit nervous. "Would you feel more comfortable going upstairs, then?" Aemond offers, "Yes please." You breathe out, and follow him up the stairs, bringing you into the guest room of this strangers house. "Why did Aegon bring you if you knew no one?" Aemond asks once youre both situated, "He wants to get me laid," You snicker, and Aemond laughs. "Why does he want that?" Aemond questions, shaking his head at Aegons antics. "Haven't been for a while, he wants to shut up my questions." You explain, a tad embarrassed. Aemond laughs, using it as an excuse to put his hand on your knee. "And hows that working out for you?" He speaks in a teasing voice, "Not very well," You groan, and Aemonds hand begins its way up from your knee to your lower thigh, and your core throbs with desperation. "I uh, I think I can help with that little one," Aemond looks at you, eyes blown with lust and his hand ventures to your upper inner thigh. "I think I'd like that," You say, and heatedly kiss him, and his strong hands cup your ass, moving you to be on his lap, which you begin grinding. You pull away, "Yeah, I'd like that." You say with a laugh, feeling his hardening cock beneath you made you insatiable, connecting your lips with his again.

#house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon smut #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen imagines

276 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 9 months

Text

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Added chapter because I can do whatever I want, whenever I want

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept without nightmares. Even when she woke with no memory of her dreams, her body was tense—locked up, and coated in sweat. Like it remembered what she could not, branded against her muscles. That morning, Gwyn woke late to warm, dappled sunlight caressing her face. A glance at the wall told her it was closer to noon than breakfast, with dawn long behind them.

Beside her, Azriel was asleep, too. One of his wings was still draped over her, the edge slipping from her face to hover just beneath her chin like a dark, protective blanket. His arm was tight around her waist, holding her close against his bare chest.

When was the last time she’d woken without a racing heart? Without the lingering memory of her sister's death burning behind her eyes? It was so rare that she woke screaming in the middle of the night anymore, but sometimes when her mind forced her to relive Catrin’s death, Gwyn would find a fellow priestess shaking her fearfully.

She’d expected to see that. Not Azriel, with his burning hazel eyes filled not with fear, but with fury. He’d come to avenge her. And she didn’t know why, but Gwyn had needed to see that. Just once, she wanted someone to be angry on her behalf. Wanted someone to feel the same anger she was always swallowing down to make it more palatable.

He would have killed someone. If she’d grabbed him by the face and begged him to, Azriel would have picked that knife back up, dressed himself, and vanished into the night. And Gwyn suspected he’d be cruel about it, too—would bring her heads, would let her watch him work. She wanted that. And she couldn’t admit it to her friends, who had worked so hard to find inner and outer peace.

Gwyn didn’t think she’d ever have it. Not the way Nesta and Emerie had achieved it, anyway. Sighing, she started to untangle herself from Azriel’s grip.

He tightened his hold, the snake. “Where are you going?” he asked in that midnight dark voice of his. Gwyn shivered.

“We have jobs to do—”

“Not today,” he replied, adjusting his hold so she was on her side facing him. “I have something I need to show you.”

“I’ve already seen you naked,” she complained, her heart picking up at the mere suggestion. Azriel rolled his eyes.

“You have not, but this has nothing to do with this bed. Although, if you feel so inclined afterwards, I won’t stop you from climbing back inside and thanking me—” Azriel laughed when Gwyn smacked him lightly in his stomach. She quite liked him when he was smiling, which seemed like something she shouldn’t admit. Azriel was always beautiful, but utterly devastating when he smiled.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He only shook his head, his wing pulling off her the same time he took away his arm. “Go get dressed and we’ll go.”

“No breakfast?”

Azriel leveled a flat stare. “I think you know what I’m going to say, Gwyn.”

“Yeah, yeah, something something you know what you’d like to eat.”

Azriel smiled again, sitting up to watch. “Don’t make me wait.”

It was like he knew nothing about her. Gwyn couldn’t help herself. Azriel was in a hurry? Well, maybe she wanted a bath. And after that, she thought she wanted to comb out every little knot in her hair in front of the mirror before dressing herself in one of the Montessere style dresses—blue, this time, which looked rather pretty against her auburn colored hair. Clasping the bracelet to her wrist and strapping a dagger to her thigh, Gwyn finally made her way back into their common living space.

Azriel was waiting, fingers drumming against the chair he was draped in. She hadn’t been prepared for him, dressed in a dark tunic unbuttoned just beneath his collarbones. Gleaming black boots caught against the sunlight, conforming to his powerful legs.

Suddenly, Gwyn regretted getting out of his bed. A punch of lust robbed her of breath, made worse when Azriel rose to his full height. “I brought this on myself,” he said by way of expressing his annoyance.

“You sure did,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t answer to you.”

“And here I was, thinking we were becoming friends,” he said dryly, gesturing for him to follow her. The siphons on his hands gleamed in the light, a bright cobalt she found strangely hypnotic. His eyes caught on the bracelet, brow furrowing with some unnamed question before he looked back at her face.

“How do those work?” she asked when Azriel gestured for her to follow him out. Azriel flexed his hand, looking at the fingerless gloves holding it in place.

“It keeps my magic from overwhelming it. Contains it, I suppose.”

“How are they made?” she pressed.

Azriel hesitated.

“I’m not sure.”

It was a question for another day. Gesturing for the door as if he were the one holding them up, Gwyn said, “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No.”

“Because you know I wouldn’t agree if you told me?” she guessed.

“Exactly.”

Gwyn might have pushed, but curiosity won out in the end. Azriel had some magic talent for avoiding anyone, slipping them through halls she hadn’t known existed. He clearly wanted to avoid Kai, which made two of them—Gwyn wanted to avoid the prince, too, maybe selfishly because her whole job was getting him to drop his guard enough to tell her something she didn’t already know. Something that would impress Rhysand enough that she wouldn’t have to go back to working for Merril.

Gwyn was doing a terrible job of it. She wasn’t a courtier, didn’t know how to bat her eyelashes and smile pretty enough to get whatever she wanted. She wished she’d asked Nesta for help before she left. Nesta would have known his every miserable secret by now and would have been organizing an auction to sell it to the highest bidder.

Gwyn could have used some of that energy. She was getting nowhere with him. She didn’t know anything the High Lord likely couldn’t have already guessed. Azriel was going to put it all together and what would she have?

Your cypher, a voice in her mind whispered. Don’t be so hard on yourself.

“Gwyn,” Azriel murmured, drawing her attention back to him. Sun on his golden brown skin, eyes gleaming gold and green, Gwyn thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Maybe in the entire world. He outstretched a scarred hand, head inclined.

Gwyn took it without a second thought. Azriel wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that like she knew her name. For a moment there was nothing but oppressive, shadowed darkness and the scent of his clean skin, the warmth of his body when he took the opportunity to pull her close.

Was he looking for excuses to touch her, she wondered? And did she care? Gwyn didn’t have time to consider either of those things, because cool, mountain air touched her cheek. She knew this place. She knew it before she ever saw it, recognized the smell, the way the wind brushed against the grass.

“Az—”

“I thought you’d like to see her,” he said, his voice so soft she might have imagined it. The expansive sky stretched in every direction, endless in its reach. Tall grass stretched toward it, always reaching, never touching. Gwyn could see snow-capped mountains in the distance, and knew if she walked the winding, dirt path winding through the hills, she’d find the old temple.

“This place is holy,” she breathed, looking at what had been added. Little markers, denoting every priestess who had lost her life when Hybern came looking for the pieces of the Cauldron. “It’s holy.”

Azriel didn’t say a word, hands clasped in front of his body. She noticed he hadn’t brought a weapon with him—did he agree, then? It felt wrong to step off the path, winding her way through the tall stone markers until she found the name she was looking for.

Catrin Berdara.

Bravery without equal.

Sister. Friend. Acolyte.

Gwyn pressed her palm to the stone, closing her eyes. Pushing those last moments from her mind, Gwyn could see her as she’d been. Full of life, of mischief. Sunbright. Alive.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Gwyn whispered, not daring to open her eyes. She was safe here. Azriel would keep watch, would keep anyone from getting too close.

It was the only thing Gwyn could think to say. “I didn’t know where you were.”

But she knew, now. Gwyn supposed Rhysand must have known what had happened, and Azriel would be privy to that knowledge. Which meant Azriel knew other things, too. Turning from her sister, she found the shadowsinger staring in the distance very pointedly ignoring her.

A surge of affection rose through her, quickly tamped down as she approached him. This wasn’t a favor—she deserved to know. Gwyn caught him bracing himself as she came closer, tucking his wings tight against his body, legs spread ever so slightly like she might attack him.

“That night,” she began, hating that she had to tell him this. Azriel watched, lips pressed tight. Gwyn tried again. “That night Hybern came, they…” Gods, she couldn’t do this.

“You don’t–”

“There were children,” she said, her voice pitching into a whisper as she said it. “I…” Rubbing her eyes, Gwyn didn’t dare look at him. She couldn’t take his pity. “I bought them time. Did they—are they…?”

Fingers slid beneath her chin, forcing her to look up. “Do you want me to take you there?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head out of his grasp. “I just want to know it wasn’t for nothing.”

He considered this, silent as he absorbed her words. “What you did was brave, Gwyn, and I don’t think it was for nothing. Even if they didn’t survive, you tried—”

“No.”

Azriel blinked. “No?”

“That’s not good enough,” she said, shoving at his chest. Azriel didn’t budge, nor did he react, causing her to shove again. “It’s not enough to try. It had to be for something or what was the point? Why let us suffer like we did? Why abandon us?”

“Gwyn—”

“We worshiped Her!” Gwyn shrieked, some emotional dam breaking in her chest. “Dedicated our entire lives to her! And she turned her back on me!”

Gwyn shoved again, hard enough that Azriel stumbled backward. Gwyn couldn’t stop herself, balling her hand into a fist. Azriel caught it this time, eyes flashing a warning even though his mouth remained silent.

“She left me,” Gwyn said when Azriel blocked another hit. And then another. And she knew he was letting her hit him in the first place, getting just close enough that her ringing blows slammed against his palm rather than his chest. That he was going to silently take whatever she threw at him without complaint. “I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone, Gwyn,” Azriel murmured and when she reared back to hit him in his perfect, beautiful face, he grabbed her around the middle and kicked off the ground. Dark wings blotted out the sun while strong arms anchored her against him. “You were never alone.”

“You came too late.”

Azriel sucked in a breath, skin ashen beneath the weight of what she knew was an unfair accusation. What did he owe her, truly? And yet, how could he say she wasn’t alone? Gwyn was alone. She’d been abandoned by more than just her sister, but by the very Goddess she’d once sworn her life to.

“I am alone.”

“Tell that to Nesta, then,” Azriel said in a cold, unforgiving tone. “Tell Emerie.”

Their eyes met and Azriel added. “Say it to me, Gwyn.”

Gods, she wanted to. Gwyn wanted him to hurt as badly as she did. She wanted to cut him into ribbons, to make him low and for what? So he could walk around as miserable and lost and broken as she was?

They were so far off the ground Gwyn could only see green and blue, broken only occasionally by those same mountains. The mountains that would take her home back to the temple, and her work, and a life where she could pretend none of this bothered her. It was tempting to demand he take her back.

“Don’t shut me out,” Azriel murmured, forcing her attention back to him. “Whatever you’re thinking, I can handle it.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, about to demand he put her back on the ground. Telling him so much was a mistake. Gwyn doubted Azriel cared.

His grip on her body tightened. “My mother was a servant in my father’s household.”

Gwyn went so still. The only sound between them was the whistling wind and their frantic, furious heartbeats. A knot in Azriel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, forcing himself to continue.

“I was an embarrassment to him. He wanted no one to know his shame…and so he and his wife put me in a dungeon for eleven years.” “Eleven…Azriel…”

He took a breath, adjusting his hold so she could look at one of his hands. “There were no windows. No lights. No flying, either, even though instinct demands it of us. I could leave for an hour a day to stand in the sunlight and eat, but never more than that. And when my brothers grew tired of their usual taunting, they found more…creative…ways to make sport of me.”

Gwyn took his hand in her own, rubbing her fingers over the white scars etched against beautiful golden brown skin.

“I used to wonder why I’d been abandoned, too. What I’d done to deserve it.”

Her eyes found us, filled with such familiar pain and loathing that her anger was siphoned out of her body.

“I still do,” he finally said as Gwyn put her chin on his shoulder.

“That’s not exactly the motivational speech I was imagining,” she said with a huff of laughter. Azriel brushed a piece of hair from her face.

“You meet people who remind you you’re not alone. You find new family,” he said, his lips brushing her forehead. “You keep going because the alternative is they win.”

“I do hate to lose,” she said with half a laugh, half a choked sob.

“I know you do,” Azriel replied. “And it was enough, Gwyn. The act itself was enough and I don’t give a fuck if you disagree with me. I’ve been on more battlefields than I can count and have watched soldiers turn on their best friends. I’ve watched fathers abandon sons if it meant saving themselves. And you—”

“Don’t,” she pleaded.

He ignored her. “You had no obligation to save anyone but yourself. You had no weapon, nothing that would have helped you. They could have killed you—”

“Azriel—”

“And you stayed.” Eyes blazing, Azriel’s voice forced her eyes to his face. She couldn’t look away. “You stayed.”

Gwyn couldn’t hide her tears. Azriel didn’t look away, nor did pity ever grace his expression. “You don’t mean that.”

“I’d put you on the front lines,” he replied, which she supposed was the highest compliment someone like Azriel could offer her. “You survived.”

Wiping her eyes on her shoulder, Gwyn whispered in response, “We survived.”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. We survived.”

AZRIEL:

“When I said advanced training, this wasn’t what I had in mind,” Azriel complained. Gwyn stared up at him with those bright, defiant eyes and fuck him for agreeing to any of this in the first place. He was so deeply in over his head he couldn’t have denied her if she’d asked him to stab himself in the stomach.

That was becoming a problem.

“I didn’t realize there was so much flirting before dancing.”

“This isn’t—” Azriel might kill her, too. “This is hardly flirting,” he grumbled, gritting his teeth as he took one hand in his own.

“No? I just assumed you must be, because we’ve been standing here for five minutes, Azriel.”

“Because every time I try to start, you open your mouth with some snappy comment.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t bow–”

“Bowing is part of it—

“Well I hate the bowing—”

“You know what, Gwyn. Ask Kai to teach you, then,” he replied, throwing his hands up in the air. “Maybe you’ll find the bowing and courtly manners more agreeable coming from someone else.”

Once again, Azriel couldn’t help but think that Vanserra would not be torturing him the way Gwyn was. Of course, there would be no cock stroking with Vanserra, either—but likely just as much sniping. Azriel had agreed to teach her to dance since Gwyn had some grand plan to seduce Kai out of his secrets.

And Azriel, though he kept swearing to himself that he didn’t care, found himself dying a little of jealousy. Squaring her shoulders, Gwyn said, “Okay. Bow. I promise not to laugh.”

He almost hoped she did. Azriel had a persistent fantasy where he threw her over his shoulder, locked her in his bedroom, and gave that bratty mouth of hers something to do. One last time, he thought, taking a step away from her to sink into a deep bow. They’d cleared out all the furniture, creating a wide enough space to move around while Azriel taught her the basic steps of a dance.

He was hardly an expert—and he loathed dancing. It made him uncomfortable and beyond that, Rhys had once explained that dancing was a prelude to fucking.

But Azriel considered his tongue a prelude to fucking, and a far more convincing and affective one given how many dances his brother had done where females merely left him standing, looking like an idiot. Azriel had never once put his tongue on a female only for her to leave him high and dry.

Gwyn wanted to dance, though. And this was likely a prelude to her calling him illiterate.

Again.

Gwyn curtseyed, eyes mocking him even when he took her hand and pulled her appropriately close. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a little laugh, right before she stumbled over her feet.

“Graceless,” he said, watching that smile slip right off her face. Swallowing, Azriel wondered how he’d never noticed just how beautiful she was. Maybe it was because Gwyn so rarely smiled at him, but at that moment, he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as she was.

He wanted her to smile at him again.

Azriel didn’t know if he’d ever wanted something like that.

“Sorry we can’t all be as wonderful as you.”

“Apology accepted,” he replied smoothly, moving her in a wide arc around the room. Gwyn spluttered and Azriel grinned without thinking about it. Things were just so easy around her. “Eyes on me, not your feet.”

“If I don’t look at my feet, I’ll trip.”

“Where is your confidence?”

Gwyn sighed heavily, flexing her fingers around his own. “How often are you dancing?”

Rarely, though Azriel didn’t bother to admit it. “Enough.”

“I’ll just pretend Kai is you, and my irritation will see me through.”

Azriel pulled her closer. “And when you’ve thoroughly lied to yourself and try to kiss him, what then?”

“In your dreams, shadowsinger.”

She was right about that.

“What do you know about my dreams?”

Gwyn smiled again, unaware of the way the sight made his blood thrum in his veins. “I know they’re all about me.”

“Yeah? Tell me more, then.”

A flush crawled up her neck and suddenly Azriel appreciated what Rhys meant when he said dancing was a prelude for things far more interesting. He could scent Gwyn’s desire just as surely as she could likely smell his. Good. No pretending, then. They were beyond that—ever since he’d taken her to see her sister the day before, the air between them was lighter. Azriel had never told anyone but Cassian and Rhys about his family. He didn’t even know what had made him want to tell her. It went beyond comfort. Azriel had merely wanted her to see him the way he was certain he now saw her.

“I think you know.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, drawing her closer still, until they were moving in a tight circle, chest pressed to chest. He was going to hoist her in the air and do every filthy thing currently racing through his mind. “I do know. Tell me what I dream about.”

“I…”

“You have no idea what dreams I have about you,” he insisted, daring her to call his bluff. “No clue what I could do to you.”

Looking up through dark lashes, Azriel could have wept knowing what was about to happen. “You’re all talk, shadowsinger.”

Quicker than she could track, Azriel had her pushed against the nearby wall just beside his bedroom door. He was going to get to do what he’d hoped—throw her over his shoulder, take her to bed, pull up that dress, and taste her like he wanted.

“Is that a dare?” he whispered, running his nose just behind her ear. “I can smell what you want.”

“You don’t know anything,” she replied, hand slamming against his chest. She could have shoved—Azriel would have backed off if she had. Instead, Gwyn fisted her fingers in the lapel of his tunic. “You don’t have the first clue what I want.”

This was insanity and he knew it. Brushing his mouth over her own, Azriel said, “Why don’t you tell me what you want, then.”

“I want you to stop talking,” Gwyn said.

Done. Azriel pressed his mouth against her own, too hungry to be nice. Gwyn’s grip tightened against his tunic, pulling him closer to meet him with that same, desperate fervor. Fuck fuck fuck— “You’re sweet,” Azriel gasped, giving in to his every filthy thought. Gwyn squealed when he lifted her off the ground, tossing her over his shoulder.

He ought to have known better. Should have known Gwyn was never going to play damsel in distress, was never going to let him drag her around like a doll. Azriel groaned, knees buckling when her fingers slid over his wings.

He just barely managed to get her flat on his back before his legs gave out. “Cruel female,” he whispered, desperate for her to do it again.

“You should know better,” Gwyn replied in a breathy voice that was absolutely going to be the death of him. Somehow—and Azriel couldn’t explain how—he could feel those words in the base of his cock.

“You’re right,” he agreed, draping his wings around them both as an invitation and to blot out the world around them. Gwyn, who’d been just a shade too taut for his liking, immediately relaxed. It was just them in here. And in this little bubble, safe from the rest of the world, Azriel could kiss her the way he wanted to.

The way he’d been dreaming about. He hadn’t questioned what kind of experience she had, but Azriel guessed it was very little, given how clumsy and unpracticed she was. Gwyn was competitive, and he was patient. It took her no time to figure it out and when she did, Azriel was tempted to roll on his back and let her have at him.

Gwyn seemed perfectly content where she was, fingers in his hair while Azriel tried to figure out how exactly to touch her. That was made nearly impossible when he slid his tongue into her mouth, meeting her own with an explosion of pleasure that threatened to undo him. His whole body jerked, grinding against her lithe, soft form beneath him.

Gwyn’s legs parted and it was all over. Azriel was coming undone, could barely think. If he didn’t put his mouth on all of her, he was pretty sure he might go mad. Instinct was riding him harder than it ever had, demanded he touch, he smell, he taste. There was nothing rational left about him.

Just the animal.

Dragging his mouth from hers, a rumble of approval slipping from behind his teeth when he saw those swollen, kiss stained lips, Azriel nipped his way down her throat.

“Az,” Gwyn breathed. He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips. Did she want him to stop? Azriel looked up, face positioned just between her heaving breasts. “What are we doing?”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Blinking like an idiot, he looked back down her body.

She leaned up on her elbows, hair spilling around her perfect, flushed face. Maybe he should kiss her again, he thought. Just for good measure, just until she was as mindless as he felt.

“We’re…” Fuck, he didn’t know. He’d nearly said it was casual and the moment he’d tried, something reverberated angrily in his stomach. Azriel merely shook his head. “We’ll figure it out.”

Later, he prayed, because he couldn’t compete with his cock.

Gwyn reclined her head back, hair a molten halo of fire against the pillow. “Remember our agreement.”

No sex. How could he forget? It was all he wanted—but not if he had to beg her for it. Not if she wasn’t coming to him because she wanted it more than she didn’t. This was enough, he decided. It was better than enough, because snarky, competitive Gwyn still had her legs parted. She was going to let him touch her.

And maybe, someday, she’d let him touch her in other ways. Whatever was currently driving him had convinced him that if he did a good job, she’d want more.

Azriel was only good at two things, which were fighting and fucking in that order. Nothing else had ever mattered to him and certainly didn’t know given the two things Gwyn consistently wanted from him involved one of those two things. Well. One of those two things.

But hopefully two. Azriel certainly wanted both when he settled himself between her thighs and pushed her dress up over her hips. Azriel groaned at the sight of her, eyes rolling back into his skull. Nothing had ever been half as pretty as Gwyn, naked and gleaming wet with arousal.

He was losing his mind. He could hear her over him, whispering his name with unmistakable fear. There was simply no way to explain what was happening or the effect she was having on him. The only way was to show her.

Azriel took a long, languid lick up the center of her body. Gwyn gasped loudly, body bowing off the bed.

Azriel’s eyes flicked to her own. “Did you like that?” he asked, impressed he’d managed to get any words out at all.

“Do it again,” she whispered.

Thank the bloody Cauldron.

Azriel did as he was told, delighted when she kept her eyes locked with his. He thought he could come like this, tongue teasing her clit while he watched those teal eyes become darker and darker. He wanted to watch her come again, this time on his tongue. Azriel wanted to taste it, wanted her to know without a doubt that this was all his doing.

In theory, that was a good plan.

In practice, Azriel was far too undone to be clean around it. Gripping her thighs, Azriel draped them over his shoulder to hold her closer, until her arched back had her lower body held entirely in his hands. She fit perfectly and the gods damn him, but he wanted to know how else they’d fit.

What was worse was the taste of her. She was going to haunt him long after they parted ways, the taste of her so absurdly sweet he couldn’t drag his mouth off of her.

Gwyn writhed, her fingers raking through his hair to push him closer. Azriel took advantage of her desperation, fingers teasing her slick skin until she started panting his name again. Did she understand what she wanted? Or was it merely instinct that made her beg.

He’d be replaying that the next time she scowled at him in training. Tongue working her clit with mindless animal desperation, Azriel pushed one of his fingers into her body. She was so tight, and so wet it utterly destroyed him. Azriel could feel her clamped around his cock.

Gwyn came, the sound breathless and soft—not overly loud, not the fake cries of pleasure that set his teeth on edge. This was for her, a result of her own arousal coming to its natural conclusion against his hand and mouth. Azriel could taste it, swallowing each new wave greedily as he pumped that finger in and out of her.

Another day and he’d keep her going. Would bring her to the edge again and gain, drawing her out until she had nothing left to give.

For now, Azriel pulled away to kiss her, curious to see if she’d like the taste of herself on his lips. Gwyn grabbed at his neck, legs wrapped around his waist until he could feel the heat of her through the fabric of his pants.

Maybe he would beg. Make a fool out of himself while she told him now.

Why did he like the image of that?

Stroking her cheek, Azriel couldn’t think of anything to say. He needed to go to the bathroom and do something about his raging, aching cock before he did something stupid. He pushed himself off her, battling his instinct to stay.

Gwyn reached for his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” he gritted out.

“Stay,” she said in that husky voice. A thrill of excitement skated down his spine when she sat up, smoothing out the wrinkled fabric of her skirt.

“I—”

“I want—” she began, swallowing hard. “I need to touch you.”

A loud roaring filled his ears. “You don’t have to ask,” he rasped. “Touch me.”

Please, he didn’t dare add.

It was a dream, watching Gwyn rise from the bed and come stand between his legs. Better, when she reached for the buttons of his trousers.

And best when those soft, callused fingers pulled out his cock, squeezing around him tightly. Azriel threw back his head, trying so hard to breathe through his nose. He was going to come far too quickly, was—

Something soft and wet licked the underside of his cock. Azriel jumped, nearly kicking Gwyn in his attempt to get away from her. “You—” he was panting, wild and hanging by the thinnest thread.

“Me,” she agreed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Did you like that?”

“I—” Fuck, he couldn’t get the words out. “You don’t—”

“I know I don’t have to,” she replied in that bratty tone of hers. “I want to. Sit back down, Az.”

Azriel sat immediately.

“Behave yourself,” she warned him, sinking back to her knees. Gwyn was eye level with his cock, assessing it like it was one of her books. Did she like it? Azriel wanted to ask, but she licked him again. Azriel shuddered, cock twitching in her hand. Precome glistened, rolling down his shaft only for Gwyn to lick that up, too.

Azriel was going to die.

As if she read his mind, Gwyn parted her lips and took him into her mouth inch by slow, tortuous inch. She made it nearly halfway before soft gagging erupted, causing Azriel to say, “That’s enough.”

He didn’t want that. Still, he could see that competitive edge in her eye, promising she was going to do better next time. What did Azriel care, truly, so long as she kept sucking him? It was the kissing all over again—it took her a moment to adjust, widening her jaw to accommodate the sheer size of him. Her teeth grazed his sensitive skin and Azriel had to force himself to stay still and not buck into her mouth.

What he really wanted was to slide his fingers into her hair, hold her still, and fuck that pretty mouth of hers. Azriel groaned, allowing himself to put his hands in her hair, though he was careful not to push her any further.

“Gwyn, I—” he was so close he could barely speak, his words a rasping plea. She merely worked him harder, saliva pooling against his too-tight sac.

Azriel came with a grunt, flooding her mouth as his orgasm overwhelmed him. He couldn’t think, too busy watching her swallow all of it before she released him, a look of triumph on her beautiful face.

“Come here,” he pleaded, pulling her up into his lap. “Come here.”

Azriel kissed her, surprised to find he wasn’t spent like he usually was. The urge to keep going flared through him hotly until he tamped it down. Gwyn settled against him, the pair falling back into bed in a messy tangle of limbs.

“Stay here, tonight,” he whispered into her hair. That was selfish, too—he wanted to eat her for breakfast.

“What about my dance lessons?” she asked.

Azriel only smiled, nodding toward the door. “Alright then. But if you step on my feet—”

“You’ll do what?” she challenged.

She found out mere seconds later, trying to clamber out of bed only to find herself flat on her back again, his thigh wedged between her thighs.

“Find out, Gwyn.”

And Gwyn laughed in response.

#gwynriel #i showed some snippets of this chapter to my gwynriel advisory board #and their response made me want to upload it #i assume no one is upset

75 notes · View notes