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pearlywritings · 2 years

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Ropes of red – your help in bed

synopsis: Diluc is a selfless lover, always putting your needs before his and neglecting himself in the process. Fortunately, you learned how to deal with it...

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: smut, bondage, dry humping, slight breeding kink, established relationship

word count: 2,7k+ words

author’s note: you can all thank @umiwu for thirsting in the comments of my headcannons and accidentally giving me a brainrot with that, which resulted in this smutty piece. Enjoy!

"You are being unfair."

Tense muscles push against his pale skin in attempts to gain freedom for the arms. The failure to do so causes a soft chuckle of yours and a feather-like touch, tracing each scar – fresh and long faded – with delicacy and affection. You gaze down at your husband with amusement, not even hiding how much fun you have with having him tied and under you.

"Says who?" You hum, fingertips running down his arm and to his jaw, to rub a thumb against the bone softly. "The man who held me down by these strong arms and licked three orgasms out of me? Who is the unfair one here, hm, love?"

Your poor overstimulated pussy is still aching and pulsating after his tongue and fingers abused your clit and walls in the best way possible. Even now his lips shine with your juices – a proof the man made you see stars for three freaking times, not giving you a second to rest. It is truly a wonder that you managed to wrestle him down and tie his arms eventually.

You swipe your thumb across his lips, feeling the wet flesh and experimentally pushing on the bottom one. Just staring at them makes you clench around nothing and it's rightfully annoying. Not only can this man make you lust and crave for him on a daily basis, but he was being unfair by depriving you of his cock!

Which is curving on his stomach, hard and throbbing, clearly denied the pleasure of release. Diluc is a passionate and selfless lover, he always prioritizes your needs over his, be it any mundane thing or sex. It may seem sweet, and it is, but you are so mad at him sometimes for not letting you do the same to him.

Or actually were. These days it's gotten better, after years spent together and, moreso, being married now. Diluc learnt to accept affection and pleasure, but he is still a giver through and through, so he does tend to go overboard while bringing you to cloud nine, yet keeping himself from a much needed release. This is why you introduced him to the concept of bondage, with his explicit consent of course. Luckily, your husband absolutely has a soft spot for you, so it was relatively easy to convince him to at least try. It is nothing too extreme, usually just his arms tied to make it quick and immobilize him as soon as possible, but sometimes you take your time, wrapping delicate red ropes around his body, creating the most intricate patterns with it.

Now you practice it quite often. Even if Diluc acts annoyed every time you secure his wrists to pay attention to his body properly, you are extremely good at reading your husband to know he actually enjoys it. His body speaks for him.

You glance at his dick again. He is pulsating, the vein on the underside looks so delicious and his angry red head is leaking pearly beads of precum. You need to feel him, to feel his length pushing against you, the heat of his body consuming you whole. He radiates it so intensively, you think he is going to burn the ropes to get his hands on you. But you know your husband keeps his word. If it's your turn to caress and love him – he'll comply.

Your clit throbs at the realization that the man, who is strong enough to wield a claymore, to keep you safe, to keep the whole Mondstadt and its people safe, is at your complete mercy, with arms tied above his head and chest rising and falling in anticipation for what you are about to do. It's you who makes him feel like that, it's you at whom his loving gaze is cast, it's only you who makes his heart drum in his chest, and it's only you to whom he'll always succumb without hesitation.

You want him so badly, it is hard to not abandon teasing and just ride him on spot. But you want to take it slow, to build up the tension, so the release will feel mind-blowing. A little caress of his cheek, fingertips ghosting over the pinkish skin and then traveling down his throat, feeling the Adam's apple bob. Then giving a small scrape of your nails on his hard shoulders which always makes his breath hitch, and splaying your palms over his wide chest. The heart is beating so tangibly, as if it is trying to jump out and into your loving hands. You are taking such good care of it along with his soul and body, Diluc is happy for entrusting them to you and he couldn't wish for more. Well, maybe only for the ability to touch you.

Bracing yourself against his chest you bring your thighs closer to his. Your gazes lock, flames in his eyes flickering, igniting desire, and then you push yourself against him. Diluc throws his head back as you grind your hips and rub your pussy along the length of his dick, biting your lip and whining when your clit catches on his veins or head.

Diluc feels like he is burning. The proximity of you, his wife, his beloved, is excruciating without an ability to touch you, to feel you, to caress you. To bring you closer to his eager mouth and kiss every part of your perfect body, to hold you against him so tightly that your heartbeats would merge and raspy breaths become one… But he can only watch you using him to stimulate yourself, to drag your wet slit along his shaft, giving it just enough pressure to make Diluc clench his jaw as pleasure courses through his body. You look so beautiful on top of him, skin glowing with sweat, head slightly tilted back, mouth agape as soft pants leave it and fill the air with sexual tension. The redhead always thinks he is ready to snap at times like this, to tear his restrains or burn them to ashes just to free his hands and put them on your breasts, outline the perfect swell of them, or glide his wide palms over your hips, sensually grabbing the backside and helping you move… Yet he always holds himself back. The pleasure is about both of you, and you made him understand and remember it.

"Why, mmm, so quiet?" You ask breathlessly against his collarbone, a teasing lilt in your voice sending a shiver down his spine. Your hips are rocking back and forth, coating him in the juices escaping your sopping cunt, and lips are kissing all over his chest and up to his neck, leaving small lovebites to decorate his skin. Diluc wills himself to focus on reality, fighting through the fog in his mind and lifting his head to look at you again.

"Just admiring my wife, who looks so ethereal on top of me," he doesn't mean it to sound so cheesy, but in his dreamy state he simply speaks the truth. The blush that creeps on your cheeks and a giddy smile makes him realize you are fluttered. By his words. "And thinking," he adds with a strain in his voice, "that she is going to make me cum pretty soon."

Your movements falter, hands accidentally squeezing his pecs, making him bite his lip. Panting, you still completely, slightly lifting yourself to glance between your bodies. Oh Archons, you've made such a mess of him.

"O-oh, it seems you are right… We wouldn't want your seed to go to waste though, right, love?" You hum as if in thought, softly wrapping your fingers around the shaft to pump it a couple of times and line it with your needy hole. Ah, so you want him to cum inside... You truly are unfair, awakening his desire to fill you up and hopefully succeed in what you two have been dreaming of for months now.

He has to grit his teeth once more when you slowly but surely slide down his girth, whining and moaning at how full he is making you feel. Free hand slides down to his stomach, fingers curling in a fist as you sink lower and lower. By the time he is fully snuggled between your tight walls, the temperature in the room has gone up tenfold compared to the moment when you just started. You are not bothered in the least as you bend down and practically press your body to his, catching his lips in a searing kiss. The man tugs on the restraints impatiently, leaning forward as much as he can, marrying your mouths like his life depends on their union.

"Please… move…" the prayer is almost inaudible against your mouth, but you heed. You kiss him deeply one more time and, digging your knees into the mattress, start to rock your hips again, fucking yourself on him. Soon you are bouncing on his cock, back arched and mouth producing the sweetest moans only his wife can make.

Diluc's head hits the pillow, all muscles strain and mind goes almost blank with the sensation of your tight walls wrapping around him. He is fucking close to reaching his high, each time you lower yourself all the way down and tighten on purpose he has a hard time not to curse. His mouth must sing you praises, yet there is only one prayer swirling on his tongue.

He loves you so much, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you-

White bliss enters his vision as white paints your velvet walls. Diluc is twitching and groaning as release washes over him like a wave, with your pussy milking him of everything he has to offer. But he is still painfully hard, you can feel it, slowing down until your movements stop completely.

Suddenly the ropes are loose around his wrists. Long wide fingers catch yours, thumb feeling the metal band on a ring finger, while the other hand reaches right to your hip, red strings still clinging onto his skin. He looks lovely though, red hair, messily splayed on the pillow, red eyes, clouded with desire as they gaze at you, red cheeks and neck, and these pretty red things loosely hanging off of his arms. The sight only you have the privilege to witness, and Archons do you feel like luck adores you.

"Your legs must be tired," he softly murmurs, voice a bit hoarse, but so sexy. You feel your ass being lifted by his legs being positioned to give him enough support. "Please, let me help you."

'Help you', not 'handle it'. You love it when your husband cooperates. You are not tired at all, but when your lover offers to aid you so sweetly, you do not have a heart to tell him no. With a soft nod of yours and a kiss pressed to your knuckles, the Pyro user starts to move. Pressing a hand onto his chest, the one that is not occupied with holding his, you are trying your best to find a perfect pace to work in sync with your husband, and very soon you succeed. Room fills with filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin, your uncontrolled sounds and Diluc's loud grunts, vibrating out of his chest and all the way to your core.

"Ah! Like this! Ooooh, yes, mmm, Diluc~" you mewl and moan as your husband relentlessly snaps his hips and thrusts his cock into your tight heat. He is on a mission to bring you to your fourth orgasm, but this time he'll make sure you'll finish together. He knows he is close again, he needs to make you approach your breaking point faster.

With a hand still firmly planted on your hip he keeps your body in place and continues fucking into you, ignoring how your nails bite into the back of his other hand, as you try to ground yourself at least somehow.

All is thrown out of the window when he manages to reach a thumb to rub your clit, adding more pleasure to what his dick is already giving you, hitting all of your sensitive spots. It's so easy to snap like that and you happily give in, throwing your head back and gushing around him with a sweet scream tumbling from your lips. Your orgasm triggers his own and he empties himself inside with a quiet moan.

Your groin is glued to his as you struggle to overcome your high. It feels like fireworks in your tummy are exploding, blinding you and it’s a bit too much for you to handle. You register a reassuring squeeze of your hand though, fingers still intertwined and tightly so. Diluc helps you lower yourself on top of him, welcoming your weight gratefully, pressing his lips to the top of your head and wrapping an arm around your waist. You are lying like this, sweaty and hot, heavily breathing and trying to calm down. Right now you feel no desire to get out of this embrace to prepare a bath, and your lover shares the sentiment, lazily grazing your spine with his fingertips.

You glance at him only when you feel a movement. Diluc straightens his legs and brings one hand to push his wet bangs away from his face, and it looks so hot. You draw a small heart on the left side of his chest with your finger, and joyfully see him smile and then feel the same heart being drawn on the small of your back.

The man hums, running the hand down his face, massaging his eyelids a little. To his surprise the first thing his eyes focus on after is a smirk tugging on your lips. He lifts an eyebrow in question and your smirk only grows bigger.

"Hey, love, want a funny story?"

"Really now?" He groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. You are definitely up to something and he is not sure he is ready to deal with it right now.

"Oooh, believe me, you are gonna like this one. Remember that strange rumor going around the manor?" You notice him peek at you from under the limb. Oh, so now he is interested and listening to you. Good. "Yeah, the one about a man with his helpless wife. And guess what? I caught two maids talking yesterday and it appears that the main characters of the rumor are…” you pause dramatically to create an intrigue, but fail when Diluc pinches your buttcheek and you yelp in surprise. Giving him a dirty look and receiving only an innocent smile, you roll your eyes. “Okay, okay, you, impatient man. It’s us. These," you tug at the ropes abandoned on the bed after Diluc completely shook them off, "were somehow discovered and they assumed I am the one getting tied! At the complete mercy of my big and strong husband, so poor and helpless. Oh, if only they knew the passion I deal with and the girth I manage to fit inside, they wouldn’t think I am so fragile. I wonder how to make you moan loudly for them to get the opposite idea…"

You don't fail to notice the blush creeping back onto his milky skin as he hides behind his arm again. Giggling and cooing, you litter his chin and nose with small kisses and hear him murmur quietly.

“Now it makes sense why they’ve been looking so strangely at us…”

“Aw, it’s not that bad. Honestly, we are lucky the rumors haven’t gotten to one particular Cavalry Captain yet,” you hum, playing with a wedding band on your husband’s finger. “He would not let you live it down if he knew you partook in some kinky stuff.”

“Please do not word it like that,” Diluc groans, bringing his arms around you to carefully grab your rear and slide his softened cock out.

“Or what?” you challenge him, holding onto his shoulders and gazing right into his eyes. In your peripheral vision something red flashes, and before you can react your wrists are brought together in front of your chest and the ropes are securely wrapped around them a couple of times. Oh, this hasn’t happened in awhile.

“Well, my dear helpless wife…”

You can find out.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact smut #moonlit pearl stories

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angi-writes-filth · 1 year

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Bites | Dimitrescu vs Heisenberg HCs

Inspired by this post, by the user greasy-metal-daddy. Which I won’t tag because I don’t wanna be annoying lmao lmao *cries in social anxiety*

A very random set of headcanons, but follow me on this.

So, I mean, maybe not everyone thinks the same, but I totally see Karl as a dude who enjoys filling his darling with traces of himself; to mark his territory, if you will. Be it by sharing clothes, constantly having a hand or an arm on you, kissing you at random times just to have the constant warmth of his lips on yours. And then there are hickeys, and bites.

And we all know that, of course, Alcina bites. She is a vampire, after all. But given Karl is closely associated with werewolves, it’s not really that out there to suggest he loves sinking his canines on his darling when they feel like it. Maybe, and most likely, during... spicier times.

So it made me think...

Alcina would bite with pin-point accuracy. Her fangs puncture only in the juiciest places, avoiding, or touching, the veins as she so pleases, almost with surgical precision. It’s scary to think that the woman knows every single place in your body she could sink her fangs into and make you bleed out, but instead uses this knowledge when bonding with her darling.

Karl’s bites are reserved only for the most intimate moments, as the man doesn’t particularly enjoy drinking blood as a pastime. Thus, there’s no pattern, no order, no rules, no nothing. If the man wants to bite, he’ll bite anywhere that’s accessible at the moment. Your shoulders? Bet. Your neck? Bet. Your chest? Bet. Your thighs? Bet. The man’ll sink his canines on ya skin everywhere with zero hesitation.

Alcina, being the refined, proper lady she is, revels in the discreet. Only those whose eyes linger on you can spot the holes on your skin left by the mistress. And if the wounds peek through your clothing, it’s the very, very edges alone; as if the memories of steamy times with the Lady teased you, by being there in secret, sometimes dancing under the layers of your clothing, and leave you wondering how many people noticed.

Karl is absolutely shameless in this regard. The more obvious, the better! Normally leaves many marks littered across the places he knows others can see; he gets kinda pissy if you try to hide them. And if he can sneak a few kisses on them, to remind you and his siblings of the bites’ existence constantly, he’d have the time of his life. If he’s feeling specially possessive, sometimes he may even leave a hickey or two during meetings, just to piss Alcina off when she notices.

In terms of how do they look, Alcina’s bites are as delicate-looking as everything else she does. Normally, as mentioned before, they’re two holes that look much more shallow than they actually are (she bites really deep, keep that in mind); if anything, your skin’s redder along the edges of the two dots. Not to mention, she’s not messy, and doesn’t turn you into a bloody mess as she drinks from you. Unless she’s pissed for some reason, that is, and the two punctures look bruised and painful just to look at, so let’s not even talk about how they feel, in the moment or afterward. Alcina appreciates keeping your skin looking smooth, so even when the bites cure, she makes sure they leave a scar that is as unnoticeable as possible. There are going to be three new ones in its place anyway...

Karl’s are... nowhere near as delicate. Depending on how rough you like him to be, they can range from relatively noticeable marks on your skin, to full-on, blueish/blackish bruises in the shape of sharp canines and human teeth. Like you’d been attacked by a Lycan not-yet-fully-mutated lmao. If you guys are kinky enough, the man can go absolutely feral and even draw a bit of blood (even if you reassure him that you enjoy it, he’s going to be worried as fuck once you two are done and ngl, he’ll feel like shit a little bit for hurting you like that. But at the same time, if you like it, he’s proud of it??? My man get your emotions together).

Alcina thinks it’s disgusting to see you walk around with Heisenberg’s bites all over your skin, making little to no effort to cover them. It’s indecent and uncouth, just like the man who gave them to you. And if, in the past, Lady Dimitrescu and Lord Heisenberg fought for your ownership, and that child got to keep his filthy hands on you, she’ll be angry beyond belief when she sees you. Covered in hickeys and messy, obscene bitemarks, carrying his scent all over you. It gets in her face when you walk. She’s pissed.

Karl, if we’re honest, probably doesn’t pay much attention to ya if you’re Alcina’s plaything. He pretends he does, just to take a piss at the super sized bitch, but in reality doesn’t give a fuck about you once you’re in her hands. If anything, he’s curious why she’s kept you alive this long, and so may eye you up and down sometimes, trying to figure out your secrets. That’s when he notices the bitemarks. Unless provoked, he won’t say a thing, tho. And it would probably be some dirty comment about what kinda magic you got in that body of yours to make Lady Dimitrescu so eager to mark you as hers asfadsa-- Which makes Alcina want to castrate him right then and there.

And that’s it, that’s what my brain has conjured for you guys lolololol. It’s a very weird and niche topic, I know, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this once the question formed in my brain and you guys had to deal with the consequences. 😔 I’m sorry.

#resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 headcanons #resident evil village headcanons #re8 headcanons #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #angi thinks filth

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mandospace · 3 years

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My Moon (Boba Fett x Virgin!Reader Smut)

Request: Hey!! I really enjoy reading your fics <3 I don't know if you still take requests but if so, maybe something with current older Boba? Virgin, touch starved reader who is so kind but never gets kindness in return? Crushin' on Boba but you don't think he'd ever want you. Thank you for reading. <3

Requested By: @ortizshinkaroff

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT! Swearing, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex, innocence kink, virgin reader

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this... like, a lot. If Boba could take my virginity like this I would DIE! Anyways, my requests are open so send in any Din or Boba requests you’d like me to write! I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Right behind you, mesh’la,” Boba passed behind you, his large hand splayed against the small of your back as he squeezed past. His touch was fleeting, only a momentary brush of his fingers over the dip of your back, but its effect was lasting. Heat coursed through your body like a tidal wave. It was burning on your cheeks and you ducked your head away from his gaze. He didn’t even notice your reaction to his touch, he just continued on his way up to the cockpit of Slave One, like it was no big deal to touch you. Yet here you were, nearly hyperventilating as you tried to calm your racing heart.

He shouldn’t have this much of an effect on you.

Kriff, he could just look at you and you’d melt into a puddle. You weren’t sure if it was the green and red armor, his walk, his broadness, his voice, his touch-

Oh, who were you kidding? It was everything about him. He was perfect, like the Maker hand-crafted him just for you. Gave him all of the qualities that you look for in a partner- strong, brave, incredibly handsome. He was both heaven and hell for you. Heaven to look at, hell to be near.

You were perpetually stuck in hell. Boba was nothing but kind to you, always treated you well. Protected you on hunts and provided you with everything you could ever want. Every glance he gave you, every story of his past he bestowed upon you, every lingering touch made you want the older bounty hunter. It was almost painful being around him. He was like a roaring fire that kept you warm but if you got too close, he would surely burn you.

That small little touch had set your soul aflame. You tried to calm down your racing heart and stop the images that flashed in your mind. You wondered how it would feel to be with him. The image of him coming back from a hunt, dirty and exhausted, pressing your body against the metal hull of his ship made your pussy throb with need. You had never been touched by anyone before, but you wanted him to touch you. To take you apart at your seams and put you back together just so that he could do it all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed at the thought of his large hands mapping out your body, leaving sparks in their wake. A breathy moan slipped past your lips and you rested your head against the cool metal of his ship. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

“Are you okay, mesh’la?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts of him pressing into you. Heat flushed over your skin and your eyes opened in surprise.

“Y-yeah, why?” you cleared your throat, hating how desperate you sounded.

“I heard you moaning. I thought you were hurt,” he strode up to you and cupped your face in his hand. The worn leather felt delicious against your skin and his warmth seeped into your cheek. You flushed again.

“I just stubbed my toe,” you lied through your teeth. His forefinger and thumb gripped your chin and Boba tilted your face up towards his. He had never touched you for this long before, this intimately, and his dark eyes peered into your own. If he didn’t stop this, you were going to do something embarrassing. Like kiss him. He wouldn’t want that. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Be careful, princess.” Boba tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before walking back to the cockpit. His touch lingered and it felt like there were live wires littering your skin. You could still feel the pressure of his fingers gripping your chin.

Maker, you had to get a hold of yourself. You couldn’t think about your employer like this. Boba wouldn’t want someone like you, he would want someone stronger and more beautiful. A woman who knew what she was doing both in and out of bed, not some floundering girl that became flustered after one touch. He deserved better than you. Your brain told you all of these things, anxiety pilling on top of each other. The weight sat on your chest and threatened to push you under.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you got back to work. The day quickly passed on the ship due to its regulated timer. Even though the two of you were hurtling through hyperspace, the ship’s internal clock dimmed the lights in accordance with a planetary cycle. You had worked on many different projects during the day, fixing weapons and repairing the various mechanics found in the ship. You tried to distract yourself from the memory of Boba’s touch on your skin. He was so close to you earlier today, his scent so much more powerful due to his proximity. He smelled of blaster residue and rain. He smelled like home.

Shaking your head to dispel the thoughts of Boba, you made your way towards the cockpit to wish him a goodnight. He was in his pilot’s seat, fingers programming coordinates into the ship’s navigation system. The white streaks of stars and planets passing by the ship shined on his painted beskar armor. His helmet was placed on the passenger seat, black visor reflecting the light. He didn’t notice when you came in, or at least he didn’t give any indication that he did.

“I’m heading to bed,” your voice was small, worried that you were bothering him. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“C’mere, mesh’la,” Boba turned his seat to face you and held out his hand. His eyes searched your face, looking for any hesitation. Sucking in a breath, you made your way to him. He grabbed your hand when you were close enough and tugged you towards him. You stumbled over your feet until you came to a stop between his spread legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he squeezed your hand tighter and looked up into your eyes. You felt your heart stop when his free hand reached up to caress your face, gloved thumb gliding over your cheekbone. “You’ve been a bit... off lately.”

Heat coursed through your veins in embarrassment. You weren’t as slick as you thought you were in hiding your feelings for the older bounty hunter. You tried to say something, anything, but you just stood there- gaping like a fish out of water.

“You can tell me, mesh’la,” Boba tugged on your arm again. This time you couldn’t go any further forward and you fell into his lap. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. The other brought your legs up and over so that you were sitting sideways across his lap. His thumb started tracing patterns into the skin above your knee. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

He was so close to you in this position. His dark eyes met yours and your heart sputtered inside your chest. It would be so easy to just reach out and learn what his scarred cheek would feel like against your palm. So easy to pull him towards you and kiss him.

“Mesh’la.” his tone was pleading and the hand tracing patterns on your skin moved up your leg to grip your hip tightly. You couldn’t help but suck in a shaky breath at his touch. Your eyes dropped down to his chapped lips and you wondered what they would feel like against yours.

“I-“ your voice came out choked, the words stuck in your throat. Being this close to him was intoxicating. His very presence was like a drug to you. How were you going to explain to him that you wished he would take everything from you, take everything you had to offer? To take you on every surface of his prized ship until you were screaming his name?

“Girly, you’re driving me crazy with your silence,” Boba growled low in his chest. The hand on your hip moved up to grip your chin, making you look at him. “Tell me, mesh’la.”

The pressure of his thumb and forefinger gripping your chin and his proximity was too much. His scent was overwhelming. Everything about Boba was too much. Before you could stop yourself, your hand came up and tugged his face towards yours. Your lips crashed against his and fireworks that could rival the destruction of the Death Star erupted behind your eyes.

Boba groaned against your lips, his hand holding your jaw moved up and into your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks. His tongue swiped at the seam of your lips, begging for access which you happily granted him. Your tongue pushed against his and you couldn’t help how you pulled him even closer with both hands. The feeling of him biting your bottom lip made you whimper.

“Boba,” you whined against his lips when the need for air became too great. Need for him pooled in your underwear embarrassingly fast. He had barely touched you and you were already soaking through your panties.

“Mesh’la,” Boba moaned against your skin, his lips trailing across your face and down your neck. He stopped over your pulse point, sucking a dark mark into the skin that was sure to last weeks. His lips made their way back up to yours and pulled you into a bruising kiss. He wasted no time before he licked into your mouth. You had no idea that he even remotely reciprocated your feelings. When you had leaned in to kiss him, you were almost positive that he would push you off his lap in disgust. You never would have predicted that he would want you too.

“Need you,” Boba groaned against your lips, nipping your bottom lip again. The hand in your hair moved down and gripped your hip to reposition you in his lap. He grabbed at your thigh and tugged so that you were now straddling him, your legs on either side of his and pressing against the arms of his chair. Boba rolled his hips up into you and you felt the prominent bulge that was straining against the fabric of his flight suit.

Gasping, you pulled away from Boba in shock. Once again heat flushed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach and resting on your cheeks. His hands gripped your hips and ground your clothed center onto him, rolling his hips up to yours in time. The feeling of him pressing against where you needed him most was too much. You had never done this kind of thing before and you had no idea what you were doing. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Wait.”

Boba’s lips paused against the skin of your neck before pulling back to look at you. One of his hands released their grip on your hip to cup your cheek. “What’s wrong, ner me'suum'ika?”

You were momentarily thrown off by this new name he called you. You knew it was Mando’a, just like the one he usually called you, but you never knew what he was saying. Blinking away your distraction, you met his dark eyes. “I’ve, um, never done... this.”

Boba looked up at you in confusion. “Done what?”

You were positive that you were burning hotter than any sun at that moment. Here you were, straddling the man of your dreams, his hard length throbbing against you, and you had to admit to him that you were a virgin. That you haven’t done anything before and that you couldn’t please him in the way you wanted to, the way he deserved. “I’m a virgin.”

He blinked twice at you, absorbing your words before a chuckle sounded from his chest. Dread dropped in your stomach like a rock until he opened his mouth. “That doesn’t bother me, ner me'suum'ika. If you want to stop we can stop.”

His soft words warmed you from the inside out. Boba gave you such a soft look when he told you those comforting words. He gently pulled your face to his and placed a soft kiss against your lips. While you loved how soft and gentle he was being with you right now, it wasn’t what you needed. You needed to feel Boba inside of you.

You experimentally rolled your hips over his clothed length, basking in Boba’s moan. His hand returned to your hip and he pulled you closer against him, rubbing his hard cock against you. “Mesh’la, we don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you cut him off with another roll of your hips. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against your core was incredible. With every roll of your hips, the fabric of your panties grinded against your clit in the most delicious way possible. The feeling of Boba pressing into you and his lips on yours was driving you crazy. You needed more of him. “Just-” the words caught in your throat when he pressed his cock against you, rubbing against your clit. “-have to show me how.”

Boba’s eyes darkened with lust at your words. A growl ripped through his chest and his grip on you tightened. “Fuck, baby, I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

He crashed his lips against yours and he rolled his hips into you. Your lips parted in a gasp at the feeling of his throbbing length and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth once more. Your hands traced down his chest, trailing over the cool green beskar. Stopping the motions of your hips, your hand palmed his cock through the material of his pants. He felt so big in your small hand and you haven’t even seen him yet. You went to unbutton his pants and release his throbbing length but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“Not yet, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba tsked, pulling your hand away from his groin.

“But I need you,” you whimpered.

“Not yet, baby,” he grinned and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ve got to get you ready for me first.”

Boba stood up from his chair and grabbed your waist. You squealed at his quick motions and the sensation of falling but he easily pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you through the hull of his ship and into his chambers before setting you down on his bed. Boba stood between your spread legs and took in the sight of you- chest heaving, hair wild, eyes dark, and lips swollen from his kisses. Maker, he wanted to take you right then and there but he had to be gentle and take his time with you.

Leaning over you, Boba pressed his lips to yours before trailing down your neck. Sighing his name, you relished in the feeling of Boba’s lips against your skin and his hands roaming your body. His large hands pushed the hem of your shirt up, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. He kept tugging up until your shirt was discarded somewhere in his room. Boba cupped your covered breasts and moaned at the feeling of your pillowy flesh. He dipped his head down and pressed kisses over your breasts, licking and sucking marks into your skin.

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” Boba kissed up your throat. He reached behind you to undo your bra, tossing it to the floor so it could join your shirt. His thumbs brushed over your nipples and a soft moan slipped past your lips. Boba had barely touched you but the pleasure was already too much.

“Boba,” you whined and tugged his face up to yours so you could capture his lips in a kiss. You trailed your hands down his armored chest, stopping right above his trousers. Gripping his hard cock, you moaned into the kiss. “Please.”

“Eager, are we?” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika, I’ll take care of you.” His lips began to trail down your body, hands cupping and squeezing whatever soft flesh they could grab. Boba licked at one of your pert nipples and smiled when your breath caught in your throat. He made his way down your body and unbuttoned your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. The garments fell to the floor and Boba laid down between your spread legs, drinking in the sight of your sopping pussy. Your eyes screwed shut when he trailed a gloved finger through your dripping folds, collecting your arousal on the worn leather. Boba’s eyes were dark and the grin on his face was devious when he sucked on his finger, licking away your juices. His resounding moan made your hips buck in need. “Taste so good, mesh’la. Can I taste you again?”

His eyes met yours from between your legs, silently asking for your permission. All you could do was nod your head eagerly, the excitement and pleasure already building up. The answering smile on his face was beautiful, a bright white against his tan skin. Before you could commit the sight to memory, Boba dropped his head and licked a broad stripe between your folds. His tongue was searing against your core- unlike anything you’ve ever felt. The air left your lungs in a gasp at how good it felt to have his tongue on you. Boba licked at your cunt, gathering up and tasting your arousal before he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You moaned loudly- a little bit embarrassed at the sound he drew from you- but you couldn’t care less. Boba Fett was between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a man trapped in a desert and you were the only source of water for miles.

“Oh!” expletives constantly fell from your lips as he continued his delicious torture on your cunt. You could feel him smirking against your folds, proud that he was making you feel this good with just his mouth alone. The pleasure built up inside of you, threatening to spill over. Boba’s tongue dipped down to your entrance, drinking you in. He brought his gloved hand up to your folds, circling your clit before dipping down to where his tongue licked. Pressing in, Boba worked his finger inside of your tight cunt. It was only one finger but the feeling of it curling against your walls made you throw your head back against his pillows and arch your back in pleasure. Boba just smirked and wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing another finger into your fluttering hole.

“Got to open you up so you can take me, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He started to push a third finger into you, the pain of him opening you up stinging just a bit. “Maker, you’re so tight around my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”

His words were like an electric shock to your system. “Please,” you begged, grinding your pussy against his face and fingers. You could feel the coil inside of you tighten as he curled his middle finger against the bundle of nerves. “I want you.”

“Not yet,” Boba chuckled lightly, pumping into your pussy at a faster pace. “I want you to come for me first. Do you think you could do that? Come all over my fingers and mouth?”

Your jaw dropped at his filthy words, mouth forming an ‘o.’ You had never experienced this much pleasure before- your hands had never made you feel this good. You wondered if sex always felt like this or if it was just because of the bounty hunter between your legs. His fingers brushed against that spot inside of you and his tongue flicked your clit and before you knew it you were cumming on his fingers and mouth just like he wanted you to. Your back arched and your hands gripped the sheets under you tightly, a cry of pleasure echoed off the metal walls. It felt like you were floating above your body, watching you cum as Boba licked at your pussy, prolonging your pleasure. Soon enough you were crashing back to reality and the feeling of him continuously lapping at your cunt became too much.

“Boba,” you choked out, trying to push his face away from your pussy. Before the overstimulation became too much, he pulled his fingers out of you. His eyes seemed darker than they were before as he stared up at you from between your legs. The sight of your cum smeared over his lips and chin made your heart falter in your heaving chest.

“Did so good for me, mesh’la,” Boba cooed, pressing a kiss to your clit before he climbed his way back up your body. He pressed his lips against yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss was passionate and it took what little breath you had away. You had never felt this much pleasure before and you desperately wanted to return the favor. You wanted to know what he tasted like.

“Not now, little one,” Boba stopped your hand that was palming his hard length through his pants. You whined against his lips but he just chuckled and gave you a quick kiss. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

“Sucking your cock would make me feel good,” you mumbled against his lips. Boba’s eyes widened at your words, shocked that you could be so dirty. Heat flashed over your cheeks.

“You’ll get your chance,” Boba smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Trust me, I want to watch you try to take me in your mouth but that’s for another time. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

You couldn’t argue with him when he used such sound logic. Him voicing that he wanted to be inside of you made your pussy throb with need. Nodding your head, you pulled him into another kiss before he stepped back from you and began to shed his armor.

He was so broad with his green and red armor, but somehow he looked even bigger when he stripped his clothes off his body. Silver scars littered his skin, each one had a story and you desperately wanted to learn them while you traced your lips over each and every one. Boba smirked at the hungry look in your eyes as he took off his clothes. He knew he wasn’t the best looking man in the galaxy but the way you looked at him made him feel like he was. His cock pulsed in his pants with the need to be inside of you. He couldn’t wait any longer after months of dreaming about it. Boba tugged down his pants, freeing his aching cock.

Boba’s cock sprung free and the sight of him, all of him, made you gulp. He was so big, you weren’t sure how he would fit inside of you. His cock was both long and thick, and while you didn’t have anything to compare it to, you were positive that he was well above average. “I don’t think it will fit.”

Boba’s laugh was rich as it bounced off the metal walls of his chambers. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika. It’ll fit, we just have to take it slow.”

You nodded at his words and scooted up his bed, making room for the bounty hunter. Boba leaned over you, arms on either side of your head. His large frame trapped you beneath him. Boba nudged his nose against yours before he captured your lips in a kiss. “Are you sure about this, mesh’la?”

“Of course,” your hand cradled the back of his head and you pressed your forehead against his. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Boba was usually a very composed man- never one to show his emotions. But you pressing your forehead against his, unknowingly giving him a keldabe kiss, and saying those words made him flush visibly. The blush that dusted his tan, scarred cheeks was beautiful. Before he could do something stupid, like confess his feelings for you, Boba pressed his lips tenderly against yours.

Taking hold of his cock, he pumped his long shaft a few times before he dragged the tip through your wet folds that were dripping with your cum. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your wet pussy. Boba notched the tip at your entrance, slowly rolling his hips forward and pushing into your tight cunt.

It was slightly painful, Boba’s cock pushing into you. He took it slow, only giving you an inch of his length at a time, letting you rest inbetween and grow accustomed to him. Soon enough, pain melted into pleasure and Boba bottomed out, the wiry hair at the base of his cock brushing against your clit. Your chest was heaving and you could already feel the pleasure building up inside of you again. Boba pressed another kiss to your lips, groaning at the feeling of your walls tightly clamping down on him. You were so tight around him and you felt absolutely perfect. It was like you were made for him.

“Can I move, ner me'suum'ika?” Boba panted, trying to restrain himself from pounding into you. Burying your face into his neck, you nodded and pressed a small kiss to his pulse point. Drawing his hips back, Boba grit his teeth at the feeling of your velvet walls dragging over his cock. He paused with just the tip of his cock in you, giving you a moment to adjust before he ground back into you. The sounds that you made were heavenly- breathless moans and whimpers mumbled against his skin. Boba slowly rolled his hips into yours, setting a languid pace.

Your nails raked down his strong back when the head of his cock brushed against that bundle of nerves. A gasp left your parted lips and you moaned his name, unintentionally clenching around his hard length. Boba’s hips stuttered against yours and he pulled your face back up to his.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he sheepishly admitted, nudging his nose against yours. A sly smile made its way onto your lips and the sight of you beneath him made Boba drop his forehead to yours. You felt too good.

“Me neither,” you captured his lips in yours and Boba picked up the pace now that you were used to him. The feeling of him grinding his hips into yours, cock pulsing hot inside of you had you seeing stars. He once again found that spot inside of you and you gasped, “there!”

Boba grabbed your leg and brought it up and over his hip, pushing deeper into you at this new angle. His fingers dug into your thigh and he could feel your release approaching with every brush of his cock against that bundle of nerves. Your breathing was picking up and the moans slipped past your lips faster. Boba brought his thumb down to your cunt, rough pad circling your clit. Your back arched and your chest pressed against his. The feeling of him dragging against your walls and his thumb working circles into your clit was becoming too much.

“Boba, I-” your words were cut off by a sob, tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. You could feel your orgasm approaching faster than before.

“I know, I can feel it,” Boba groaned into your mouth, picking up the pace of both his thrusts and thumb. Your walls were clenching around him and he could feel his own release building inside of him. “Come for me, ner me'suum'ika,” his hips snapped against yours and he licked into your mouth. “Cum all over my cock.”

It was too much- his cock, his thumb, his words- and you came crashing down like a meteor. His name fell from your lips repeatedly in sobs and cries of pleasure. Your nails were digging into the skin of his back and you were positive that you were leaving angry red marks on his tan skin.

The walls of your cunt clamped down around his cock and he could feel the juices of your release coating him. His hips pistoned against yours as he chased his own high. “Where?” Boba moaned against your lips, feeling his balls start to pull up tight with his impending release.

“In me,” you mumbled into his mouth. You were still reeling from your release, drunk on Boba. You needed to know what it felt like for him to cum inside of you. “Come for me, Boba.”

Your sultry words pushed him over the edge and he grunted and groaned as he spurted his cum inside of you. The warmth of his seed painting your walls was something you’d never forget- you’d cherish this moment forever.

Boba’s hips stilled and he could feel the need for sleep overcoming him. You were so warm, so soft- Boba wanted this for the rest of his days.

“Thank you,” you whispered, gingerly placing a kiss at the edge of his mouth. Boba cupped your face and pulled you into a proper kiss, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

“For what?” he questioned, pulling out of you with a groan. Your combined releases spilled onto his sheets, soaking them, but he could care less.

“For this,” you pressed your face into his chest as he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame.

“It was an honor, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba placed a tender kiss on your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. You smelled like home.

“What does that mean?” you yawned, nuzzling further into him. “Ner me-me’suu-”

“It means ‘my moon,’“ Boba smiled into your hair. “Is it... is it okay if I call you that?”

“More than okay,” you were glad that he couldn’t see your face because of how flushed it was. You pressed a kiss to his chest. “What can I call you?”

“Whatever you’d like, ner me'suum'ika,” his eyes started to drift close. “I’m yours.”

______

Mando’a Translations:

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner me'suum'ika = my moon

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gripefroot · 3 years

Text

Maiden of the Garden

an Azriel x Elain one shot

She had never felt so safe.

Not that she had never been so safe - she supposed she had been, for several years of her life, scattered here and there - but this was different. A different safety. The kind that wrapped her up inside and out, settled between her ribs to sleep like the closed petals of a lily. The kind that hummed a melody in her ear even in silence, unable to be shaken or forgotten - slumbered with her, rose with her.

The kind that knew her; knew all of her, and loved. Never left.

But these were solemn thoughts for the dawn. At least, she supposed it was dawn - it was hard to be sure. Elain shifted her sleep-heavy limbs with an unbidden hum in her throat, but the arm around her waist simply tightened. Her smile couldn’t be seen by anyone. Not even him: his breathing hadn’t changed, and so she knew he wouldn’t be hearing the race of her heart, either.

Blinking open her eyes, she only saw faint light filtered through the membrane of the pink-tinged wing slung over her face. For protection, or comfort. She hadn’t asked. A yawn split her face, then, and she brought the back of her hand to cover it, but not before her breath fluttered that velvet wing, just slightly.

He stirred behind her, the slightest groan thrumming from his chest and into her back. Elain shivered, and dared - dared to reach out her fingers to touch...to trace the thin veins visible as lines of darker pink spiderwebbing through the membrane. The patterns were nonsense to any eye, but they were the outline of his make. His shape. Him.

The rumble of a deep, foggy voice in her ear that sent shivers skating up the length of her spine: "If your intention was to wake me, dearest, you have succeeded."

Elain hummed then, but didn’t stop. Traced one finger up to the bone, which trembled as she swiped a gentle feel to the talon. “You were deeply asleep if it took that long.”

“I was.” A rasp. His arm tightened still, nearly pressing the air out of her - a contrast to the warm, satiny lips that pressed to the back of her neck, nuzzling that place between neck and hairline, where he breathed in deep and low. This was the safety, she knew. Of his larger, broader body tucked around hers. Even bare, as they both were, and sleepy to boot.

Here, there was no pretense. No pretending she was anything other than what - who - she was. And Elain sighed at that, ready to melt into the bedsheets and into his arms and never face the world again.

“You’re thinking.” Azriel’s hand slid up to clasp her shoulder, just as his mouth branded the base of her neck. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she couldn’t speak as his fingers made a stroking path - as gentle as hers as had been across his wing - down her arm to her fingers, still outstretched, to weave his between hers. Not a shadow in sight where the sun kissed. The scars didn’t look any less violent in the bruised light of dawn, but they belonged here. Still beautiful, with the sorrow behind them.

Just like her. He was the same.

“Am I thinking too loudly?” Elain quipped, and his response was a low chuckle before teeth nipped into the back of her shoulder - she gasped at the sensation, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. He pressed their clasped hands into the bed, and she arched, tilting her head backwards against his shoulder as his mouth made a hot trail for her ear...and her throat swelled and went thick with the flick of his tongue against the point of it.

“Far too loudly,” Azriel whispered, his tone grave. But she knew he was teasing, all the same. She knew it in her heart.

“I’ve scarcely thought any thoughts at all these last days,” Elain whispered. Again his tongue traced around her ear, suckling gently at the tip. She shivered. “Perhaps I need to make up for it.”

“No need,” he told her. “Not yet.”

She hummed. “And you have no thoughts rattling around yet, shadowsinger?”

“No,” Azriel said promptly. Laughed a laugh that made her heart pound, her thighs to clench together. “I know better than to think too loudly where my High Lord could snoop in.”

Elain hummed again.

“But…” His voice lowered an octave, and suddenly he wasn’t pressed so hard against her anymore - she bit back a moan of displeasure at that, at the withdrawing of his wing to let in more of the dawn light. No, she didn’t like that one bit. But then she felt his mouth on her spine, kissing lower with each breath and her hand clenched empty air as her head swam with heady deliciousness. “No, that was a lie, dearest. I am thinking. I’m thinking of you.”

She whimpered. The talon of his wing was pressed into the bed by her waist, and she could feel the searing imprint of his lips at the base of her spine. Slowly he peeled away the tangle of sheets and blankets from around and between her legs. They rustled, tossed aside without care. It truly was morning, Elain thought in her fog. Sunbeams shone through the glass windows, breaking around the wickedly curved tip of his wing.

“I thought,” she said, breathless - swallowed once, twice, to clear the raspiness from her throat as one of his hands slid up between her legs to part them. “I thought this - the frenzy was over.”

“It is,” Azriel told her. Then his face appeared over the curve of her hip, his smile broad and shining, hair tousled from sleep and eyes nearly gold in the sunlight. In a purr he clarified, “Frenzy or not, I still want you, Elain. I want all of you.” With his fingertips gently pressing into her thigh, he lifted it. First against his shoulder, and she twisted her ankle to keep from bumping his wing, even as she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“I want you, too,” Elain whispered.

Over his bare, tattooed shoulders shadows crept curiously, as if wondering what all the fuss was about: they hadn’t been around much, these past days, and almost absently Azriel flicked one or two of the more daring ones away, and they slunk back. Then, his lips tilted into a crooked, promising smile that made her heart want to leap from its cavity in her chest and into his.

Where she was, and always would be - safe.

“Lay back,” he ordered, and into the soft pillows she sunk, closing her eyes and breathing out as steadily as she could. But that intention, good as it was, melted away like ice on a summer day at the first stroke of his tongue.

It was what her sisters had said; off-hand, in insinuating conversations she’d never been meant to hear. When it was this, it was always as intense and burning as the first time. Over and over again, with the immortal stamina and sensitivity. Elain inhaled sharply, reaching, reaching - and it was a scarred hand that held hers as she writhed against him, dignity having been left outside this house days ago. She moaned his name loud enough to wake anyone nearby.

Fortunately, they were alone, because when her release hit like a roaring wave over her, crashing again and again as Azriel groaned into her, she may have shouted.

She could feel it, as solidly as if it was a golden rope between them - even in her dizzy state, Elain reached out and tugged, wanting him, wanting him, wanting him there, with her, where she could kiss him until she drowned. He jolted at the tug, crawling up and over her body at once, though pausing long enough to litter hasty kisses at her breasts that still bore faded, lilac-colored bruises from yesterday. Or was it the day before that? She couldn’t remember.

Azriel’s mouth was salty, but she drank him in. Tasting every bit of his lips and tongue as he growled, elbows on either side of her, pinning her in - and when her lashes fluttered open she could see the expanse of his wings, flared out above him. The color of roses when they were pressed and preserved between the pages of a book. His majesty, she thought in a rush.

No, this wasn’t the frenzy, but it was no less than before. When he slid inside, stretching her until she was complete and whole and whimpering. Around his shoulders her arms hung, fingers twining in his mussed hair as he grunted, lifting and pushing one of her knees to the side...

This one they rode out together, Azriel pulling his head back slightly to stare down at her, a rush of emotion in those hazel eyes as Elain felt herself riveted to his gaze - licking her lips, tilting herself towards him for every part of him he offered: it was always all of him.

He didn’t move when they were done. Just rested his forehead against hers, breathing each other’s breaths as it all washed over them, his hands clenching hers to the bed. The heat, the longing, the love. Every part. And then he laid his head in the crook of her shoulder, and let out a sigh that felt more than a sigh. His wings drooped, and rested against the bed like a shroud around them.

A few of the more daring shadows peeked inquisitively over the side of the bed. Elain smiled at that, twisting her fingers away from Azriel to reach for the darkness - blessed coolness twirled around her hand in whorls of smoky black. Gentler than a lover.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispered into her ear.

“I know.”

But she didn’t mind. Never had. And truthfully, the whispering cold they skated across her skin dried the damp sweat on her arm as they snooped upwards was pleasant.

“They’re being nosey,” Azriel told her. “Tell them to go away if you want.”

“I don’t want to,” Elain said. Tilted her face back towards him, smiling. And despite that morning, despite that week, color stole across his tanned face, a wavering sort of curve to his lips. “I’ve been selfish, keeping you to myself, haven’t I?”

“No,” he said at once. “Never. Never.”

“They missed you.”

He stilled. Blinked once, twice - then dark brows knitted together curiously. “How do you know?”

“Just a guess,” Elain admitted. Flicked her hand upwards, and the shadows slithered away and off the bed to play more later. That cooler hand she pressed to his face, then, the rough scratch of whiskers that hadn’t been shaved for a few days. But she liked the scrape of them in her palm. “A guess,” she went on. “Because when you’re not riveted on me, I miss you, too.”

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Flirting, El? Really?”

“Why not?” She squirmed, limbs grown heavy and tingling from the weight of him - at once he pushed himself off and away, wings fluttering back as if afraid of her feeling even a whisper of discomfort. Elain let that slide, electing to sit up with a yawn to stretch her arms overhead. She didn’t miss the poking shadows coming up again - nor their immediate disappearance at Azriel’s hiss of warning.

But his hiss was overladen by the growling of her stomach, and immediately Elain lowered her arms to cover her belly as embarrassed heat stained her face. But he laughed.

“Hungry?” he asked, and she threw a narrowed look over her shoulder, at him reclined back on the bed and his own gaze darkened at the sight of her naked back.

“I wouldn’t be so hungry if you didn’t come down to the kitchen to distract me,” she told him, trying to be demure - but he brought out this snappish part of her. This bravery. Saying what she wanted to say. Unlocking her lips.

“It was one time,” Azriel said. And grinned. Clearly remembering the afternoon she’d been too hungry to continue and begged for a respite, wandering to the kitchen in an old shirt of his to prepare some victuals for them - but he’d gotten impatient and gone to find her, and it had ended with her bent over the kitchen table and a basket of apples tipped onto the floor...

“I’m thinking that this mating frenzy isn’t well-thought out as a whole,” Elain said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed - she was leaking, but she didn’t mind that - nor did she mind the shadows that hid under the bed as she strode to the dresser where she’d dropped her clothes the first day they’d come here.

The last time she’d even worn clothes.

“What do you mean?” he asked as she shook out old underthings with a frown. They’d have to do until she had more clothes. Hopefully when the female staff returned today.

“Well - only that it’s a great deal of - of lovemaking.” She couldn’t say sex yet. “And that takes energy. And...well, food. But we couldn’t even pry ourselves apart long enough to eat.”

“I ate plenty,” Azriel said in a lazy voice. Elain pursed her lips and sent him a look - but he was grinning, and she laughed. And likely blushed, too. With a groan he sat forward, rolling his neck as she shook out her wrinkled frock. Shameful, to meet the staff in. If she’d been wise enough to take the extra ten minutes to pack clothes at the townhouse...but wisdom and mating didn’t work well together, it seemed.

She slipped the pale frock over her head, smoothing it down her front and trying to tug on it enough that the wrinkles didn’t show as much. Straightened the waistline beneath her breasts, aware of his eyes on her…

“Will you help me?” Elain asked. Shook out the ties at the nape of her neck for his benefit. Of course she could tie them herself, but when Azriel’s eyes glowed with admiration like that, and even halfway across the bedroom, he was too far…

He was behind her in the span of three heartbeats. Smiling that shy smile, his warm fingers trailing over the bare skin of her back before lifting the ties. Coolness followed: Elain shivered, knowing exactly what was tickling up her spine.

“Leave her be,” Azriel whispered sternly - not meant for her, as she felt the pull of the ties closed.

“No, I don’t mind,” she said. “Let them.”

And as if smug at her permission, she felt the shadows curl over her shoulder, drawing back her loose and tangled hair from in front of her breast, smoothing the strays from her face as she giggled at the sensation.

“I don’t suppose they can braid, too?” Elain asked in a light voice, and he grumbled.

“They’d learn for you,” he said. “But I’m going to draw a line somewhere, El. I can’t let them worship at your feet like this, otherwise there will be no room for me.”

She shivered at that, and at the warm, rough feel of his calloused hands on her bare arms. His lips behind her ear.

“Maybe I don’t want you at my feet,” she whispered. He went still, pausing as the shadows darted away again. Perhaps told to leave. Perhaps not wanting to see what was in his mind.

“Then where do you want me?” Azriel asked, his voice a rasp. Hands trailing down, over her body - then dipping between her legs, scrunching the folds of her frock there. The gentle press of his hand drew a moan from between her lips. “Here? Can I worship here?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed out. How she could want him again so soon - she didn’t know. Only that her blood was pounding, her voice cracked as she said, “And you’ve already done your morning venerations.”

“And what if I don’t want to wait until evening?”

“Then you’d better hope your household staff makes themselves scarce at opportune moments.”

His laugh broke the tautness of the moment. Struck through the air like a hand on a harp, making it shimmer with music. Elain twisted in his arms to face him, to soak in the sight of that pure joy in his expression. Rare, and beautiful: she hoisted herself onto her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

“Breakfast?” she asked with a flutter of her lashes.

A swallowed growl as his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him. “Anything,” Azriel said in a low voice. “Anything for you.”

“But you can’t - you can’t take me in the kitchen like you did last time.”

His lips curled downwards in what was best described as a pout. It made him look more boyish than anything; a younger version of him she’d never known, but desperately wanted to. Just to understand him better.

“Aren’t you hungry, too?” Elain asked quietly. Traced along his jaw with her fingers, and he tilted his chin to kiss her palm.

“Food is one of the last things on my mind,” Azriel admitted.

“But you still need it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “And after breakfast I want that tour of the gardens you promised me months ago.”

His brows flicked upward at that, but he was grinning, all the same, and it made her heart swell up bigger just to see him so...so unburdened. Free.

Not unlike how she felt.

Rosehall, despite the name, wasn’t as grand as Rhys and Feyre’s river house. Elain had expected something sprawling and majestic as its owner, but now she felt foolish for such thoughts. Of course Azriel wouldn’t have a grand house - though it was as beautiful as any mansion she’d ever seen. More beautiful. With creeping vines of roses over trellises and a pagoda swarming with greenery. Belly full of cheese and apples (few items in the deserted kitchen were fit to eat after a week, or unprepared), Elain trailed her fingers over the leaves as Azriel tucked her other arm around his. A steady, solid presence beside her - though it must be terribly dull for him to explore the home he’d lived in for centuries already. But he said not a word against it.

The stucco house glowed in the sunshine, coppery-red roof tiles reflecting homey warmth. And, as they stepped into the sunshine that beckoned the garden path in front of them, Elain breathed deeply at the familiar scents that curled around her. Rich soil, sweet flowers, and him - her mate - musky cedar and rain that fell in the night.

The shadows that had nipped at their heels out of the door lurked at the pagoda, shaded from the sun, and came no further.

“It’s spring,” she said aloud, foolish as it sounded.

“It is,” Azriel said. “And you’re lovely.”

Elain tried to suppress a flush, and she didn’t know whether she succeeded or not. Casting him a look, her eyes were drawn to his wings spread behind him as if to catch the sun. Or to stretch out the muscles.

“Are you sunning them? Your wings?” she asked curiously.

“Er - no. Not exactly.” Something sheepish had stolen over his expression, but she waited until he went on in a voice that nearly sounded begrudging to her ears. “It’s...an Illyrian form of posturing,” Azriel admitted. “I can’t really help it. Staking a claim.”

“A claim?”

“On you.”

“Ah.” Elain nodded. “Yes. Because you think I’d see any other male when you are around.”

His lips twitched at that. “Flattering as that is, dearest, it’s not for you to see. It’s for the males to see. To know to stay away from you.”

“There is no one else here.”

“The staff is returning today,” Azriel reminded her with an arched brow. He hadn’t combed his hair that morning, she realized, and a secret smile tugged at her lips. His black hair was as disheveled as it had been when he’d crawled out of bed that morning...and tickled by the scarce breeze that fluttered the flowers and bushes around them. She could’ve sighed at the sight.

“Only females, you said.”

“Yes.” Something graver, more dangerous lurked in his voice then. But the pace of their slow steps on the stone path didn’t falter. Elain squeezed his arm in some comfort, and he slanted a smile towards her. “It’s best if I...I’m not around other males quite yet.”

She nodded in contemplation. Her sisters had mentioned that, too. But the heart-thudding sound of his wings as he shook them out even wider made her tremble, heat pooling in her limbs again...his breath caught at the same time hers did, his eyes fastening onto her face with the sharp immediacy of gnawing hunger.

But Azriel swallowed. His gaze dropped to her throat, as if he could see the pulse of her heartbeat there. “Rhys said he’d come when he can,” he rasped to her. “Help...me. To face others again.”

“Help?” Elain’s voice was wispy. Her knees weak.

“As a punching post until I can behave properly.” A wry twist of his lips, then, as his eyes darted back up to hers at last. She was feeling hot in the sun, though the air itself wasn’t warm. Her free hand shook as she rested it at her throat, swallowing thickly.

“I’m in no danger,” she whispered.

“No.” A colder edge to his tone now. “You’re not. Though any male that looks at you will be.”

Elain shivered. Melted against him, as if his words had cut the very strings holding her upright - his arms stole around her at once, and his mouth found hers in a bruising kiss. A claiming kiss. One that made the bond between them purr with satisfaction, until her breathing was short and his hazel eyes blazing hotter than the sun as he stared down at her, tucking brown-gold curls behind the points of her ears.

“Now that our alone time is nearly at an end, we should wait until we’re behind locked doors,” Azriel murmured. “I hate to think what would be said of us if the staff returned while we were sprawled in the garden with my head up your skirts.”

The crassness should bother her, she knew - but it only made her hotter. Sensibility all but gone, and she didn’t miss it. Didn’t miss those walls that had kept her locked away for so long.

“They already know what we’ve been doing,” Elain pointed out, her voice barely above a whisper, and his head tilted to the side as he considered her. As if he’d perked up at her insinuation. Still he protested,

“But seeing it - ”

“What difference should it make?” she challenged. Ran her hands up his black shirt, to rest on his chest where she could feel the frantic pumping of his heart. “I - I know it’s different here. And with such things as Calanmai…”

Azriel’s eyes darkened a shade to burnished gold, the thick sound of his wings posturing out further; shading her from the sun. Or prying eyes. As if the mere mention of the Rite had woken something completely, utterly fae in him; ready to pounce, to sprawl her in the neatly-trimmed grass as he’d said earlier…

“Are you saying, dearest,” he rumbled, from deep in his chest, “That you’d feel no shame if someone were to...happen upon us?”

“I don’t know,” Elain whispered. “I should, I know...but somehow…” Her voice trailed off, and anxiously she awaited some response from him. It was silent in the cocoon of his wings, where the world outside of this seemed to have stopped spinning. Pausing, holding its breath.

“We can experiment with that,” Azriel promised. “Later.”

Later. But it didn’t stop her heart from racing as he stretched out his wings, and the morning returned to its earlier activity in buzzing insects and the tittering of birds nearby. She heard them, but didn’t see them.

The winding path took them past any number of plants. Elain tried to take note of the varieties that grew here, but it muddled in her mind somewhere beneath the last echoes of the frenzy. Of him beside her, distracting her with little more than his scent and his feel of his muscled arm beneath her palm. And, even worse for her sense but delicious to her soul - Azriel started humming.

Elain let the sound wash over her for a while. Reverberating, deep, almost...hoarse. But as peaceful as the sun. Then, quietly, as he drew in a breath she said, “You can sing aloud. I don’t mind.” With her opposite hand she reached out, and the velvety petals of violet tulips bobbed beneath her touch. She almost expected him to refuse, but he didn’t, and a moment later words formed and sprang into the air as lovely and deep as the dusk:

“Hear me now, oh maiden of the garden,” he began, and she glanced sharply at him, wondering if he was making fun - but it was sincerity and softness. “Maiden of the garden, Hear... Take me to your cold and weedy bed Cold and weedy bed, hear...”

They’d stopped walking, though she pretended more interest in the thick leaves of a fern, freeing him from scrutiny that might close him up…

“Love me through the flooding, muddy soil, Kiss me through the plucks of hungry birds, Marry me in a dress of lily petals Hear...”

If there was more, Azriel didn’t go on. Cleared his throat and softly, without turning, Elain asked, “What song is it?”

“It’s an old ditty,” he told her, his speaking voice bland. “I believe it’s sung throughout Prythian, though the verses vary. I’ve heard Lucien humming the melody under his breath once or twice.”

Regret didn’t belong in that sunny morning, wrenching in her chest like a bitter tea. So Elain buried it, like the dig of her fingers into the cool soil. She’d planted a better seed in its place. Sinking into a crouch, she frowned at a weed that was threatening to overtake a bush of flowers she didn’t recognize. A swift yank dislodged it and its pale root, and she shook the dirt from it. Splatters landed on her white frock, but she merely shook them off as she stood again.

Azriel had stiffened, peering back over his shoulder. “They’re here,” he said quietly. Her heart thumped unhappily: they were no longer alone. These frenzied days had come to an end - she’d known they would, of course, the perfection she’d found in his company, and his alone.

When he turned back at her, she was ready with a smile. “Will you still hold my hand?” Elain asked. “Even though it’s dirty?”

By way of answer he clasped her hand in both of his, bringing it to his mouth for a tender kiss. He lingered there, breathing in deeply as his eyes closed. “Your scent,” he murmured, twisting her hand ‘round to breathe in again, this time his nose pressed to her wrist. “I’ll never get enough of it.”

“You won’t have to,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” That blazing promise she allowed to shine from her face. Azriel’s eyes snapped up to gaze at her, and his lips twisting into a smile...one without humor, but saturated through with possession.

“Let’s go back. Rest before lunch.”

“We only woke a little while ago.”

“Not that kind of rest.” Then that smile turned teasing, and Elain laughed as he scooped her into his arms without effort, kicking off from the ground in a whoosh that tangled the wind in her hair and around her skirts. His chest was warm and solid - a venerable wall of strength. But if she tilted her head, she could kiss his throat - and she did, taking her time to nibble at the taut, hot skin there. His flight wobbled somewhat, a groan whipped away at speed.

She saw nothing of the staff that he’d mentioned - perhaps he concealed her. And as Azriel swooped to the balcony that jutted from the east side of the house, connected to his bedroom by double doors paned with frosted glass, she strained her ears to hear. As is from far away, quiet female voices and the clattering of pots and pans. Her meager breakfast after so many days of even scanter nourishment hadn’t been enough. Elain was starving. But she wanted her mate, too, with a different kind of ache as he nudged open one of the doors with a foot to stride through, still carrying her - and she would very much appreciate a bath, and -

“You’re thinking loudly again,” Azriel remarked.

“I was thinking of a bath,” she admitted, peering up at him.

“Oh?”

“And a meal would be welcome.”

The shadows were there, waiting for them - as soon as Azriel set her down on the floor they snaked up around her, and him - Elain felt the coolness flick the heat from her face like a breezy whisper. The prickling sweat at the back of her neck gone beneath her heavy hair.

“I can’t believe it,” he mumbled, and she turned to face him with a smile. “They’re fussing.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, but then hurried to add, “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Well, I’m jealous, certainly,” Azriel grinned. “But I don’t see why I’m so surprised. I adore you, after all. Why shouldn’t they?”

“A poignant question indeed.” Elain would have had to be a special kind of stupid not to notice that the shadows had crept up her back, and flicked the tie of her dress undone before slithering away - but it did bring a flush to her cheeks. “Dear me,” she mumbled, though she didn’t mean it as the straps of her frock fell forward. The weight of her breasts sunk the neckline low, and Azriel’s attention was snagged like a fish on a lure, eyes honed in on her. “I wonder what they meant by that.”

His throat bobbed in a swallow. Then, with no more warning than a surge of intention through the golden bond between them, he sprung across the few feet between them to gather her up in a crushing embrace, mouth branding on hers with a groan. Hers or his? Her head spun. She didn’t know -

The bodice was torn down by Azriel’s hand, with which he immediately cupped one of her bare breasts as she whimpered; his teeth sinking into her bottom lip with a ravenous growl.

“Az - ” Elain gasped, tearing at his shirt without even thinking about it - something primal had taken over. “Az - I - ” She meant to say something coy and delicate, perhaps ‘take me to bed’ or ‘please make love to me,’ but she hadn’t the words in her mind. But he knew what she meant, clearly, for she was swept up into his arms once more as he bolted for the bed - it had been neatly made, she realized dazedly - the shadows or the staff?

A knock on the door interrupted a bruising kiss, stopping his hand up her thigh in its tracks. Then an airy, almost nervous voice from the hallway as Azriel tilted his head: “We - we’ve brought up Lady Elain’s trunk sent from Velaris. Of her things.”

“Leave it outside the door,” Azriel said hoarsely. “Th - thank you.”

All the politeness he could manage, and with her heart hammering Elain nudged herself against him, his hard length pressed into her leg. He sucked in a breath at that, turning his attention back to her with burning gold in his eyes: like a breath on embers, the heat inside of her flared. Barely noticed footsteps faded away down the hallway as his wings flared slightly - she couldn’t help staring, wondering if he was posturing again...

“How do you want me?” he whispered. Nudged his nose against hers, completely in contrast to the raging need she felt. The need that surfaced from the marrow of her bones to sluice through her veins, to him.

“Any way,” Elain breathed back, and she meant it.

Azriel’s lips were parted as his gaze raked over her face. A shadow curled beneath his ear, but he paid it no mind: instead, rucked up the hem of her skirt to settle at her hips, exposing her to the air. She shivered, but it was from the molten way he stared at her, the brush of the backs of his scarred fingers on her bare thigh.

“I want you every way,” he said, his voice gone low and dark. “And we have all day.”

That mere insinuation drew a moan from between her lips, and Azriel smiled the sort of smile she suspected a wolf might wear when it saw a fawn: but it wasn’t fear that writhed through her. It was the thrill of being hunted. Being wanted.

He tucked his other arm around her neck, to cradle her close as his wandering fingers stroked up the slit of her. Elain reached up to clasp his face in her hands, pulling it down to kiss him fiercely. The groan through his chest was enough to set her on fire; with the gentle stroking of his fingers she could burn to ashes in a heartbeat.

It didn't take long for him to bring her to climax - she wondered as he peppered kisses to her breasts, if her body responded to him so violently because they were mated or if it was simply because he knew how to play her like an instrument. Breath after breath lifted her chest, trying to calm herself, but it wasn’t to be: with a grin his delved his fingers into her again, and Elain shrieked and squirmed but laughed - he laughed, too, and she felt the cooling brush of shadow against her cheek -

A thunk on the balcony they’d come in on drew Azriel’s gaze to the side, sharp and sudden as a whip. Still protected by his shoulders, Elain poked her head beneath his splayed wing to see a familiar set of boots on the ground. She couldn’t see above that, but she knew who it was. And she was practically naked -

“Well, well, well,” Cassian boomed, and then even his boots were concealed from her gaze as Azriel spread his wings further, shielding her from being seen. She rested her hands on his chest, but his head was turned and his lips curled, baring his teeth. “Still going, Az?”

“Back off,” was the snarl in response. Elain’s breath caught in her throat, but not from fear.

“Is she hiding in there? Or did she scarper?”

“I’m here,” she squeaked back.

“Ah. How are you liking that wingspan, Ellie?”

“Don’t call her that,” Azriel growled, low in his chest. She could feel the tautness of him, ready to spring - though his trousers had been unbuttoned and his shirt was hanging open, he wouldn’t hesitate to attack. Not even his brother. And his Siphons were on the other side of the bed -

“Why not?” Cassian asked, his tone innocent. “Don’t you?”

Elain craned her neck to see over Azriel’s wing - it was about what she expected, Cassian leaning against the open glass doors with the expanse of bright blue sky behind him. He was grinning like a cat that had got the cream, fully-armored, his hair tied back.

“Come out and show me how you really feel, Az,” Cassian said, and she felt Azriel shift above her like a snare. Then Cassian winked, and started walking backwards to the stone railing and, likely, safety. But he still called back, “Nice to see you, Ellie. Nes is waiting downstairs.”

As soon as Cassian went over the edge in a dare, Azriel snarled, and followed at a run. Elain felt the whoosh of air as he left her on the bed, the flap of his wings as he shot out of the doors and into the sky -

Oh, dear. And he hadn’t even buttoned his trousers.

This was what he’d mentioned in the garden, she supposed. “A punching post until I can behave properly,” was what Azriel had said, but he’d assumed Rhys. Had Cassian’s unexpected appearance made it worse?

Tugging at the sleeves and bodice and skirt of her rumpled frock, Elain strode across the bedroom for the balcony, curious - she heard a shout, and a laugh (Cassian’s) and then a crash of something. She had to lean over the edge to see, but they were there, a bundle of black and golden skin and red light as they tumbled on the manicured lawn. The crash had been a marble statue, which now lay in several parts. She flinched as Azriel landed a spectacularly brutal blow against Cassian’s middle, but the general just wheezed, still grinning - he glanced towards her and waved his fingers, but that was a mistake on his part. Azriel turned to face her, snarled at his brother’s irreverence towards his mate, and tackled him back to the grass.

We have all day, Azriel had said, and Elain pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.

No time for a bath quite yet, but she did kneel beside the trunk in the hallway to find more suitable (and clean) clothes. A little fussing and a quick comb of her hair, letting the curls fall down her back threaded through with curious shadows was enough to feel enough of herself to face her sister.

The grunts and shouts and Cassian’s bellowing laughter from the lawn followed her all the way down the stairs.

Nesta, in her usual steel-grey with her hair braided atop her head, was reading a book in one of the front rooms. Elain hadn’t taken the time to explore all that Rosehall had to offer yet, but she squashed that blushing thought as her sister caught sight of her, and stood.

“Well?” Nesta asked with an arch look, gazing at Elain up and down. Another crash from the lawn.

“Well, what?” Elain tried to recall self-control and poise, dragging it up from deep in her chest where she’d lost it sometime several days ago. She would not flush - she had nothing to be ashamed of -

“How are you?”

“Perfectly well. And you?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered to the window. But the males weren’t visible from this side of the house. “He’d better be able to fly us back to Velaris after this,” she said, in an almost grumpy voice, and Elain smiled.

“Are you hungry?” Elain asked. “I think we could find something in the kitchens if you are.”

“I had breakfast not long ago,” Nesta said, and again her attention turned to Elain. Grey eyes narrowed. “Have you eaten at all this week?”

“Here and there.” Practically a lie. And as if to punish her for it, the hollow ache in her belly shuddered inside of her, begging for something - anything. Elain bit her lip to keep from wincing.

“I’ll go find something,” Nesta said in a voice that allowed no argument. “You sit here.”

Weakly Elain sat on a settee to the thump of Nesta’s book being closed and tossed onto a sofa. Her sister strode from the room as if she were mistress of the house, rather than Elain, but she was unable to form a complaint. Not with the strands of herself still scattered around, though she tried half-heartedly to scoop them up to put herself back together...but she didn’t want to be put together. She wanted to be unravelled with her mate, to return to the quiet stillness of solitude; when it had been just them.

But the plate of cakes and fruit that Nestra returned with was wildly welcome. Elain ate a still-warm vanilla cake in two bites and was halfway through a sliced pear topped with a hard, salty cheese before she realized her sister was still watching her, and with an amused smile on her face. It was rare enough that Nesta be amused, let alone at her, and so Elain swallowed her mouthful and her nerves, clearing her throat.

“You came with Cassian,” she said to make conversation.

“Someone needed to check in on you,” Nesta said. Nodded her head towards the window. “He can report on Azriel, but I knew he wouldn’t see much of you.”

“I’m perfectly well,” Elain repeated.

“Good.”

Slowly, with more decorum now, she layered together pear and cheese atop a cracker dotted with seeds. Took a nibble, though her stomach ached for more, now. Nesta leaned forward, and lifted the iced pitcher she’d brought as well to fill the two cups. Oh, lemonade - how lovely. The staff must be working hard in the kitchens; she’d have to stop by later.

“And how is...everything?” Elain asked carefully, to which Nestra shrugged.

“Everything is as it always is,” she said. “You and Azriel are missed. Some - ” and Nesta rolled her eyes, as if unwilling to name names, “ - have missed your presence as the only two with any sense.”

“I see.”

“Do you know when you’ll return?”

“I don’t know,” Elain said. I don’t want to return, she thought mulishly to herself, but she couldn’t allow herself to be so selfish. Swiping fluffed cream from the top of another cake with the tip of her finger, and sucking it off between her lips. Delicious. She was still starved.

“Has it worn off?” Nesta asked next. Elain felt her cheeks heat at that, but a comforting bit of coolness curl around her throat, as if to stave off her own embarrassment at her sister’s frankness. Or to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

“Azriel says it has,” she said. “But I - I don’t know.”

Nesta nodded, and then her face was split by a sly smile. “The circle has taken wagers on what you gave him to eat,” she said. “Mor suggested it would be a full course meal. And I believe it was Amren that bet on a handful of scallions torn out of a garden.”

“I haven’t had time to prepare a full course meal,” Elain told her, mimicking Nesta’s arch tone perfectly. “Not that it matters, but I gave him a lemon cake.”

Of the food that had been left behind by staff before their timely exit, they’d burned through in less than a day during that initial frenzy. But not so quickly that she hadn’t chosen the plumpest, tenderest cake to slip through Azriel’s lips - he’d been on his knees, then, but she couldn’t recall quite why...Elain nearly choked on a bit of pear as the memory returned from the delicious haze the entire week had become. Ah. That was why.

“We’ll be collecting our winnings, then,” Nesta said, still smiling. “Are you sure you’re well, Elain?”

“I am very well, though if you continue to pester me I might be less well,” Elain said in a testy voice.

“No...questions about...anything?”

“No,” she said, firm and bland, and she was saved from further questioning: a blur of black and angry snarling hurled past the window they sat in front of, drawing their attention as a pot of mums was nearly knocked over on the veranda. The males had come to a stop outside, and Nesta made it to the window before Elain: but it was Azriel that popped up first, his eyes flickering towards her as her belly twisted for something other than food. His hair stuck up on its ends, his cheeks flushed with exertion and a bruise blossoming beneath his chin. His shirt was torn in several places, as if severed by claws.

But it was Cassian, hauling himself up to his feet by clutching a wrought-iron bench, that had clearly come off worse. Nose leaking blood, his arm hanging stiffly as he tried to roll his shoulder. Didn’t stop him from winking at Nesta, though, who harrumphed right back.

Elain’s nose was pressed to the glass as she stared at her mate.

“Thank you for visiting,” she whispered to Nesta. “We’ll - we’ll return soon.”

“Take your time,” Nesta replied. Her book was tucked under her arm again, and lifting her skirts in one hand she made for the door. “I’m glad you’re happy, El.”

But Elain’s eyes were still fixed on Azriel, and his on her. Cassian limped away behind him, to meet Nesta at the door, but Azriel jerked his head in the opposite direction. The back entrance.

It was there that they met in a flurry - his arms open for her, shirt in complete tatters as she pressed herself to him. Not close enough, never close enough...Elain lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him, breathing in the scents of soil and grass that now clung to his skin. He groaned into her mouth, fingers digging into her skirts and the flesh of her buttocks.

“I’ve never seen you like that before,” she breathed. Traced over the planes of his face with her fingertips as he stared hungrily at her. The shadows around him made some effort to fix up his shirt; lifting the shreds as if to cover him. And then gave up to slink away to the corners. “Fight - yes. But...not like that.”

"I'm sorry,” Azriel said at once. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you - "

"You didn't.” Elain held his golden gaze as he went still. Then, a whisper, “I love you."

Immediately she was hauled into his arms, his wings tucking in to make it through the doorway and into the cooler relief of the stone hallway. From here she could hear the clattering activity in the kitchens, and she knew Azriel must be as starving as she’d been, but convincing him to eat would likely be a futile effort.

Sparring Cassian clearly hadn’t depleted him too much, Elain learned. And she learned it on her back, frock rucked up to her waist and her ankles over his shoulders as he stood above her, gripping her hips to thrust into her until she was completely unravelled once more. Just the way she wanted - spilling over the edge with him and uncaring what anyone else thought.

“Again,” Azriel grit through his teeth. Her knuckles were throbbing with pain from clutching the bedsheets, her throat hoarse and dry from the first two climaxes he’d wrung from her. She was limp and soaked, barely even aware of the vulgar, slapping noises they were making. “Again, El. For me. One more time.”

The dominance in his voice brought her back, rekindling the embers that tried to sleep in her veins. Elain whimpered, but couldn’t resist: this release was slower than the others, but sultry and sweet as she met her mate’s gaze - his tousled hair framed by the sunlight coming in through the open balcony doors, the muscles in his chest and arms taut and flexing as he rode her.

“With me,” she whispered, and he dipped his head in a nod before she spun out of control.

Elain was slack head-to-toe when Azriel gently extracted himself - he swore under his breath, but she couldn’t even open her eyes to see what it was: and then she felt her skirts gathered in his hand, wiping down between her legs as she nearly shrieked aloud at how sensitive she was.

He collapsed on the bed beside her, panting, and she turned to face him with a smile. Curling up and around him like his shadows liked to do - and could she blame them? Azriel grinned at her, smoldering gold once more rather than an inferno, and pulled her close. Around their forms his wing rested.

It meant that this was their space, she was coming to learn. And woe to anyone who interrupted them: Cassian had the bruises to prove it. Elain frowned, then, and reached up to touch the purple splotch beneath Azriel’s chin with her fingers. He didn’t flinch, but merely stared at her.

“Will you be alright?” she whispered.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “And...I can face the world again, I suppose.”

“But do you want to?” Elain asked, a smile lifting her tired lips.

“No,” Azriel said at once. “Do you?”

“No, but we’ll have to.”

“But not today.”

“No. Not today.” She smiled, then, and his responding grin was the kind that warmed her from the inside out. “Can we have a bath now?”

“Yes, of course.” Hauling her against his chest, Azriel sat them up with a groan of his own, settling her in his lap at the edge of the bed. “Though it may be worth noting,” he added, some mischief forming in that curl of his mouth. “That no amount of soap is going to wash the scent of me from your skin.”

Elain hummed, smoothing back some of that tangled hair from his forehead. “That’s a relief to hear.”

His eyes blinked, the gold in them nothing short of yearning. An ache in his expression that thrummed painfully through her. Through what lay between them. “You mean it?” Azriel whispered.

“Yes.” Teeth clamped onto her bottom lip, but still she smiled, leaning her forehead against his damp one as he huffed. Laughter, perhaps - or something else.

The squeaking sound of a faucet drew her attention towards the bathing room, the door that led to it wreathed in shadows. “They like baths,” Azriel said by way of explanation. “Bubbles especially.”

“I don’t know why people are afraid of your shadows,” Elain told him. “They’re sweet.”

“To you. They’re fond of you.” He grinned, teeth flashing. “Lady Shadowsinger.”

She laughed at that, and he stood with her still in his arms. Around them his wings fluttered and flared as he carried them to their bath, and Elain rested her head against his tattooed chest.

Lady Shadowsinger.

She liked it.

#elriel #azriel x elain #acotar #elrielmonth #elain archeron

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aquaticstyles · 3 years

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to do list

hi everyone! i know it’s early, but i stayed up all night writing and simply couldn’t wait to post. 4.8k of some bf!harry ahead (including my first attempt at smut... pls feel free to tell me if it sucks). of course, reblogs + feedback make my heart soar 💓💕💖💘💗💞

You think the scene before you cannot be real. Without a doubt, you must be dreaming, sleepwalking, eyes still seeing through a rose-colored, innocent hue that can only belong to your imagination.

Dew drops cling onto freshly cut blades of emerald grass, spray-painting the ground in a silver cast, sparkling, glistening. Birds sing a perfectly pitched hymn, their orchestra being the gentle whistle of the wind that rustles the branches of the trees in your backyard, new with springtime buds the bees generously catered to. There are the roses, sitting pretty in their beds, still slightly drooping from their abandonment of the glowing mass in the atmosphere, pouting in velvet pink. A dragonfly brushes past the French doors in front of you, and you swear you notice it's hesitation, almost tempted by the glass, almost fooled by the facade, almost daring to dart into the comfort of your home, blocked off by the rest of the outside world. Then there's a lone butterfly, fluttering, strikingly contrasting against the green with its pompous red wings outlined intricately in black ink. The sun rises slowly over her horizon, sluggishly being pulled on a string by an invisible hand buried beneath bundles of clouds pocketed throughout the sky turning more blue as each second ticks by. Watercolor, drops of salmon and peach twirling about one another, accidentally on purpose creating an orange hue to the world below, that is now waking again, a fresh start, a new day.

You simply must be dreaming.

Picking apart the clementine you had selected as your sunrise viewing snack, you watch the scene before you unfold, a rubix cube solving itself before your very own eyes. Sweet and sour juices cascade down your throat, and you notice the uncanny resemblance the fruit in your palm mirrors to the morning. You know the picturesque serenity will soon fade away, turning sour as children awake from their slumbers and car engines are started back up again, but you enjoy the sweet while it remains.

Startling you from your daze, you feel a warm body suddenly press up against your backside, arms encircling your waist, cold palms resting against your exposed stomach, creating a valley of goosebumps in their wake. You relax immediately into his touch, snuggling into him and sighing as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"Your hands are freezing," you whisper to him, careful not to disturb nature.

Without a word, he smooths his palms up and down the skin of your tummy in a fast pace in hopes of warming them. After doing so for a couple seconds, now satisfied with the new temperature, he sinks his hands cheekily beneath the band of your underwear, fingertips resting on each hip, using your cotton panties as a blanket.

You almost snicker at his antics, but choose instead to offer him the last piece of your fruit, hovering it over where you imagine his mouth to be near your shoulder. He happily accepts your donation, chapped lips wrapping around your two fingers, a tongue darting out momentarily, teasingly. Out of the corner of your eye you see a smirk fall upon his face as he munches on the fruit, the deep crevice of a dimple forming for only a second. You focus your gaze back on the sun, who has already risen significantly higher in the few minutes Harry had stolen your attention.

As if to thank you for orange, Harry presses a kiss to your skin, then decides after five seconds that one was not enough, for you feel his lips drag across the expanse of your bare shoulder, making their way to the base of your neck. A sticky residue of juice is left behind as his tongue licks your skin, sucking, nipping, biting, causing your eyes to flutter shut and an appreciative hum to rise from the back of your throat. Your head tilts back, allowing the man showing you his love more access. His palms move from their previous shelter underneath your panties, a single finger ghosting up your skin, poking your bellybutton, until it moves beneath the thin tank top you're sporting, tracing the valley of your chest. Two palms encase your breasts, massaging slowly, and your nipples pebble beneath the all-too-familiar touch. Humming again, you get lost in the way Harry has encased you in your third dream of the day.

"You're bein' nice. Should give you a piece of my orange more often," you snicker as Harry flicks your nipple once before encircling his arms around your waist again, hugging you, sinking into your quicksand. He gently sways the two of you, molten together like two pieces of chocolate underneath a beachy sun, one silhouette.

"Mmm..." he hums, and you know he's about to say something else as he presses one final peck beneath your ear, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

A few minutes pass by in silence, and you patiently await the first mumblings of your boyfriend, expecting the special, raspy voice that belongs to early Harry. Unlike the rasp that occurs after a show, or the rasp after a bitter fight, this one is your favorite, because you're the only one who gets to hear it. You're the only one that gets his mornings.

"Wanna have sex?"

You blink at the sudden abrupt and blunt statement interrupting your sentimental thinking. Chuckling softly at your two contrasting mindsets, you tease him, "Bored already? It's not even 7 yet."

"Not bored," Harry lifts his head, pretending to be shocked at your accusation as he spins your body around in his arms so he can finally get a good look at you. He notices the smile already plastered on your face as you turn into view, and he thinks that he would do anything to capture you in this moment and keep it locked away in his chest forever. "Jus' wanna have sex with you. Love havin' sex with you."

You run your hands up Harry's bare chest and begin to fiddle with the chain hanging around his neck, thumbing over the plated cross that has ironically swung over you countless times, "Gotta check this off the to do list?"

You're only joking, but the sudden frown that washes over Harry's face makes you think he didn't pick up on that. Suddenly ever-so-serious, creases form between his brow, "Sex with you is never something to just mark off my to do list."

"No?" you raise your eyebrows and fold your hands behind his neck, tugging gently at the curls there, twirling them around your pointer finger.

With a quick and firm shake of his head to confirm his sentiment, he places a loving kiss on your cheek, then the other one, then on the center of your pout, lingering there for a moment before sneakily slipping his tongue into your mouth and massaging it languidly against yours, the tangy bitterness of the orange encircling the two of you, making your toes curl and your hands slide into the curled mess sitting atop your lover's head, knots from a deep slumber, a rats nest begging for a comb, but your fingers will simply have to suffice.

"Love you," he mumbles as he pulls away, speaking his mind yet directly from his heart all at once.

You can't help but grin at him, the sunlight from the view you were ogling over mere seconds ago casting a perfect golden hue onto his tanned skin. You're so close you can see every pore, every beauty mark, every scar. If you closed your eyes you would be able to trace his skin with ease, knowing every landmark on his road map, knowing every bit and piece of Harry that makes him Harry. He's so familiar to you, a body you know sometimes better than your own, a body you're always longing for, regardless of the countless of times you've made love by now. There's something so innocently intimate about this moment, something so casual and domestic.

You wish to capture him right now, in this very instant, with curls that have definitely looked worse but definitely looked better, glistening pink lips that are still slightly chapped from their lack of use through the night, a slight stubble around his jaw and below his nose, eyebrows crisscrossed in a chevron pattern that is entirely unnoticeable unless you're peering directly into his sleepy eyes (paired with faint purple circles underneath), in nothing but a pair of briefs, one leg hiked up significantly higher than the other (most likely due to the starfish position he chose to undertake in sleep last night), and lock it away in a special place in your mind forever.

This is Harry. Your Harry. The version of him reserved just for you.

And how could you say no?

"Okay," you smile as you watch his eyes light up like a school boy sneaking his first kiss against the tree on the playground, a million fireworks exploding in a forest.

In one sudden, swift movement, Harry swings your body over his shoulder with ease, as if you weigh nothing more than a sheet of paper. Now seeing the world upside down, you erupt into a burst of giggles, your hair swinging below you as your boyfriend begins to maneuver around your home. The sunrise slowly defocuses, shifting out of your view as the replacement sunshine carries you towards your bedroom.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking you know," you manage to speak out between laughs, and you imagine there's undoubtedly a bulging vein at the center of your forehead from your current position.

"Hush," is all he says in response, paired with a couple pats on your bum that is so conveniently placed on his shoulder. "Bed or shower?"

"Uhhhh," you begin, now having a perfect view of your living room as Harry now stands in the doorway of your bedroom. Drumming your hands on the backs of his thighs in contemplation, you weigh your options, "Last time we did it in the shower you almost slipped and broke your neck so-"

"Your fault for using so much bloody conditioner-"

"Thought you liked my conditioner, said it smelled like roses-"

And then he's throwing you on top of the mattress, your back colliding with the plush duvet, and head sinking into the array of pillows Harry simply has to have (the first night he spent at your place, you only had two. the next time he came over, a dozen new pillows sat crammed in his backseat, claiming it was good for "neck and back support"). You barely have a second to think before he's crawling over you, palms placed on each side of your head, his knees trapping you against your hips. Fanning out, your hair creates a halo around you, making you look even more of an angel the man hovering above you sees you as. Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his rings twinkle in the singular beam of sunlight peaking through your curtains, and you can't help the smile that warms your face.

"What are yeh smilin' at?" Harry grins, peering down at you below him. He looks ethereal, tattoos contrasting and standing out even in the darkness masking the room, thick biceps flexing as they hold his body up above yours, smiling in that way he does only when he's around his other half. He belongs in a gallery, framed in gold trim, available to be studied and fawned over. Yet here you are, selfishly adoring what the masses wish they could view, an unbothered bliss.

"Nothin," you respond, locking your arms behind his neck, scratching his scalp lightly, it feels like the first ten chews of bubble gum, squishing a marshmallow between your fingertips, a fruity piña colada on a hot summer's day, and he hasn't even touched you yet. "just love you."

And you do. So much it consumes you. So much it hurts. So much you'd dive head first into shark infested waters if it meant feeling his palm against your cheek.

And if you thought that smile of his couldn't possible grow any bigger, you're proven wrong yet again. He catches your lips between his, suckling on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue in your mouth, licking into you as if you're the last bucket of water on earth and he's parched, shriveling at the seams. It's like his one mission in life was to move his tongue against yours, and he's perfected his craft flawlessly. His body presses down against yours, needing contact, gently grinding his bulge that is growing with each rotation of his hips against your clothed core.

"Love you so much," he mumbles in between sloppy kisses, noses bumping every so often, causing a few giggles to interrupt the sweet silence.

After removing your shirt in one swift movement, desperate to reveal the miles upon miles of skin he never tires of studying, his lips soon travel south, leaving a piece of his heart in their tracks from the corner of your mouth, to beneath your ear, to your jaw, to your breasts, to your tummy, to your hip bone.

"Can I have a taste darlin'? Please? M'achin' for it," ringed hands run up and down the sides of your abdomen before they encircle your thighs, spreading them apart so a mess of caramel curls can settle between them, nails creating half-moons onto your skin.

A breathy exhale releases from you as he brushes his nose exactly against where he knows your clit is, ghosting the pad of his thumb against it once teasingly. Hooded green eyes peer into yours from their position between you, and you think you'd like to have this photograph etched into your brain for eternity. Your lover, in between your legs, begging to lick you until your thighs shake.

"Can smell yeh angel, makin' my mouth water. Gonna let me taste yeh fo' a bit?" His accent is huskier, low and raspy, shavings of dark chocolate sprinkled on a bitter raspberry tart.

And again, how on earth could you say no?

"Please H," you grasp onto the cusp of a chestnut curl, gripping onto it as your life depends on it as Harry quite literally dives into you.

Your underwear is thrown and forgotten across the room as his lips attack your folds, tongue licking into you and spreading you apart in a way that only Harry can do. You're a watermelon cracked open on the deck of a yacht, juice dribbling onto to sugar-high-chasing chins. Prickles of his facial hair rub against you in the most agonizingly amazing way, and you yelp when he delivers a harsh suck to your clit right off the bat, moaning and whining underneath his touch.

His tongue doesn't miss a single spot, devouring you and causing your heart to thump harshly against your chest. Suddenly and abruptly, Harry inserts a finger into your entrance, curling it inside you and pumping it in and out a couple times before adding another. His fingers and tongue simultaneously work you, and if your brain hadn't turned to jelly, you'd be delivering a speech consisting of his name and various other praises.

"Gimme a good one, lover," he demands, his lips vibrating against you. When his lips move to suck harshly on your clit yet again as his fingers repeatedly hit that one cushiony spot inside you, you're sent over the edge, curling your toes, moaning relentlessly, and jerking your hips abruptly, causing harry's large palms to trap them back down against the mattress.

He's a professional, an artist, painting you with each lick of his tongue against your nerves, each curl of his fingers inside of you, making a masterpiece out of you as you ride out your wave of pleasure, coasting it until it crashes against the shore. His starry night.

And when you finally chase down your high, and Harry's still licking your folds, you tug his roots away from you, wiggling from overstimulation. A whine leaves Harry's cherry lips as he's tugged back to you. A smirk warms his face, a dimple reappearing, and his thumb brushes the corner of his mouth, catching some of your arousal, before it sinks between his glistening lips. Sucking the remnants of you from his finger, he hums, "tastes like clementines."

His words send you into a frenzy, a vampire flung into a blood drive, and you grasp onto his shoulders and flip him roughly onto his back, straddling him and trapping his lips in a kiss before any objections can leave them. His hands encase your back, scratching here and rubbing there. You can still taste you on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and when you take his lower lip between your teeth, he lets out a throaty groan, lifting his hips to rut against your sensitive core to relieve himself for just a moment.

"Achin' aren't you baby?" You ask, tracing your fingers over the butterfly stamped on his chest, to the ferns above his v-line, to the sparse patch of coarse hair right above his underwear that sits low on his waist. Palming over the fabric, you feel how hard and thick he's gotten, and you can only imagine how frustrated he must be.

"Fuck, yeah. Fuck me angel, please. Always achin' for yeh," Harry whimpers, green eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he watches you teasingly toy with the band of his underwear, tracing the skin right above where he needs you most.

You tap his hip bone twice, and he obliges by lifting his hips, allowing you to drag his underwear to his feet and fling them across the room, undoubtedly joining yours somewhere. He loves when you take charge, loves when you tell him what to do without even verbally saying anything. You could do anything to him, and he'd love it. He's so caught up in your orbit he'd completely miss the asteroid hurtling towards him at a thousand miles per hour.

And when his cock springs up against his stomach, tip red and glistening with precum, your mouth literally waters.

How the fuck can a dick be that pretty?

Crawling back over to him, you gently twist your fingers around his member, giving him a few pumps that causes his head to roll back against the pillow, veins bulging in his neck as a loud groan leaves his open lips. His eyes flutter shut as you stroke him, and you're nearly about to go down on him when he interrupts your thoughts.

"Put me in darlin', won't last if yeh keep doin' that. Wanna feel your pretty cunt wrapped around me, yeah?"

And you don't have to be told twice.

Lining him up with your entrance, you slowly sink down onto him inch by inch, hissing at the faint burn that always comes with him stretching you out like this, especially after his tongue already worked wonderful magic on you mere minutes ago. Harry moans, praising and chanting your name in whispers. His face is pulled in pleasure, eyebrows furrowing, lips open as heavy pants leave them.

As soon as you get to the base of him, you take a moment to adjust before slowly working up a rotation of your hips, circling around him and rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone in the process, sending an overwhelming wave of goosebumps down your spine. Harry's hands move up and down your back, to your ass, to your pebbled nipples, massaging and coasting over every single centimeter of skin he can reach.

Creating a rhythm, you begin to sink up and down on his cock, causing your tits to bounce as you pick up the pace. He's filling you up in the best way imaginable, hitting every spot, encompassing every inch. You can't tell where he stops and you begin, waterfalls inter-joining and cascading down together, intertwined in harmony and mind-numbing pleasure. The sound of your skin slapping together is music to your ears, a sweet symphony of your bodies exuding love.

"Harry god," you moan when his tip reaches that one spot inside you, eyes rolling back, tilting your head in a way that broadcasts the expanse of your neck dotted with purple bruises from Harry's lips, and your chest, breasts glistening with beads of sweat.

"Like that angel? Like when yeh ride me like this?" Harry groans at the sight of you, a masterpiece fucking him so well he nearly forgets his name. You're glowing, a shining mass far too bright for him, and he almost debates jetting off for his sunglasses. "Know yeh do. Fuckin' perfect. Ridin' me so well angel, tha's it."

It's paradise, toes sinking into beds of sand, observing the sun as it sinks into the ocean, leaving an array of creamsicle in its path, a massage from warm palms after a hard week hunched over a computer, finally finishing the book you've started three times, dog-earing the pages with passages that jump out to you, a cold shower when the air-con is out, sweaty bodies lost under the brief escape of the chilling water. It's perfect. It's you and Harry.

He can't take his eyes off you, not wanting to miss a single second of this, barely blinking so he can come back to each frame and rewatch this film over and over and over again. Moving his palms against your sides, he watches as your breasts move up and down, and he can't help the next words that tumble out of his mouth, ""Your tits are fuckin' dynamite have I ever told you that?"

Locking eyes with your lover, you smile widely, pearly whites broadcasted in an ear-to-ear grin at his ability to say something so completely Harry in this intimate moment. You let one giggle escape your lips, briefly shaking your head at the man, causing a lock of your hair to fall out of place and over your eyes.

His knuckles brush the stray away so it doesn't block your view of him beneath you, and then he cups your cheek and grins, an eternal sunshine radiating his heat onto you, "Wha'? It's true. Your tits are fuckin' incredible. Can't believe I get to see 'em."

Feeling nothing but pure adoration, you observe the same look in his eye, his smile sparkling beneath you, eyes twinkling into yours as if a projector is relaying the words "I love you" in a cursive script across his irises. Blinking once, taking a snapshot of his face right now, you lean into his touch and place a kiss to his palm, "Thanks lover."

Clenching your walls around him, Harry loses his train of thought and releases an ear-splitting moan, one that nearly makes you cum in that very instant. His hand moves from your cheek to your side again, both palms squeezing your hips. He bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood, his cock twitching as it buries inside you, skin on skin, absolutely no barriers. "My lover," he mumbles, eyes darting off to where your bodies are connecting, watching your pussy slide up and down his cock.

Your thighs begin to burn, and you feel that all too familiar feeling bubble in your abdomen, foam overflowing a cappuccino. Placing your palms on his chest, you hover over him, grinding your hips repeatedly, "Your lover. The only one."

He wraps his hands around your wrists, bringing them to his lips to kiss the back of your hands, then pecking each one of your fingers, mumbling in between each token of his affection, "Only one that can fuck me like this angel, only one."

Once he releases his hold on your hands, he moves one of his fingers down to your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a way that causes you to cry out, "Fuck, Harry, I'm gonna-,"

"There we are," he smirks, watching you lose it before his very eyes, and he knows when your brow begins to furrow that you're close to unraveling again, "go ahead darlin' come on your cock. It's yours."

Your movements become sloppy, no longer fluid and concentrated like before as you run after your orgasm. Still desperate to prolong this feeling as longer as possible, you pick up the pace even more, riding him faster despite your body's oncoming exhaustion. His finger continues to linger where you need it, playing with you and sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

"Fuck, that's it," Harry's raspy praises causes a flush to rise to your chest and cheeks, "Not far behind yeh lover keep goin'."

He loves the way you look when you come, the way your face twists and your mouth drops in the shape of an O, strawberry lips glistening in ecstasy, begging for a taste. Sweat running down your chest and lingering on your temples, messy hair frizzy from the pillow and his fingertips, golden skin shining in the low-light. But he particularly loves the way you never ever shut your eyes, even though sometimes the waves are so euphorically catastrophic you're tempted to let your eyes rest to absorb the moment fully. Yet here you are right now, candle wax melting above him into a sea of warm rose water, peering directly into his eyes, revealing every word you wish you could say. A whimper, Right there. A moan, I love you.

And once he's viewed the sight beautiful enough to blind him, he's coming as well, his cock twitching as he releases warm spurts of him inside of you. As soon as you feel him soften, you lift up off of him and collapse on top of his sweaty chest, limbs exhausted and body spent from your two orgasms. You rest your head on a swallow, the steady heartbeat of your lover echoing softly into your eardrum, gooey caramel summersaulting over cotton candy skies, a chilling ice cube plummeting and disappearing into a hot tub, steaming, steady, Styles.

Harry presses a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering for a moment, I. two, Love, three, You. One hand rests on your piping back, scratching lightly up and down, while the other strokes your hair away from your face, a touch so soft and delicate as if he'd break you into a million pieces if he's not too fragile. Precious cargo.

"Love you," you mumble, nearly half asleep as his touch sends another wave of soothing calmness through your nerves, unaware that the exact same words were repeating over and over through his brain in this moment.

Harry smiles, a wide, bunny-tooth grin, and even though you can't see it, you know it's there, for his heartbeat quickens ever-so-slightly.

"Love you, angel. So much."

It's laying here, post-sex, in the comforting silence of your home, that you think you quite like these moments more than any others. The ones that are so simple and habitual one would deem them unimportant, a cup of tea gone cold, last Sunday's paper. These moments are what make you feel the closest to Harry, behind closed doors, just you and him, in your own bulletproof bubble, making love, starting and ending each day, together. And you think you quite like the idea of spending forever in that bubble, watching the sunrise, sharing your clementine, and spending the day tangled in sheets with the man that has irreversibly stolen your heart.

Theirs was a brief beauty, autumn leaves before they fall to the ground, trampled on, forgotten. Yours was forever, an easy love, one that didn't have to try, one that flourished, even when the odds were pent against you. An easy love, a flourishing love, a habit you never wish to break. As simple as a well-known recipe, caramel-colored pages wilting from being passed by generations. As complex as learning the avenues and allies, hiding spots and hidden treasures of a new city. He was everything, the light, the dark, the beginning, the end.

And when you wake up the next morning, peering over your shoulder in the doorway of your shared bedroom to see that all too familiar starfish spread out and suctioned to the sheets, you smile, knowing that in only a couple of minutes he'd notice the left side of the bed had gone cold, springing up out of bed in search of his personal radiator, his lover. You trot to the kitchen, and right as you reach to grab a clementine, you notice a note that had not been there the night prior, stuck to the thick peel of the fruit.

"To Do List:

- Go on a run. - Propose to girlfriend. - Have sex with girlfriend fiancé. - Call Mum. - Buy more clementines."

457 notes · View notes

systematicallycapricious · 3 years

Text

Persona x Soul Eater AU

Spoilers for Personas 3-5 (and their remakes FES, Golden, and Royal), PQ1 (Shadow of the Labyrinth), and the P4: Arena series below, as well as the Soul Eater and Soul Eater: Not! anime (and potentially manga? it’s been a while, so I forget)!

Cast (We = Weapon, M = Meister, H = Human, Wi = Witch, O = Other):

SEES:

Minato Arisato - M | Aigis - Multiform-We | Ryoji Mochizuki - We

Minako Arisato - M | Yukari Takeba - We | Ryoji Mochizuki - We | Aigis - Multiform-We

Junpei Iori - M | Chidori Yoshino - We (presently)

Akihiko Sanada - M or We? | Shinjiro Aragaki We or M?

Mitsuru Kirijo - We (Meisterless and badass; probably a rapier?)

Ken Amada - M | Koromaru - We (a non-human Weapon)

Fuuka Yamagishi - Wi (??? animal)

Investigation Team:

Yu Narukami - M | Teddie - We (potentially a non-human Weapon)

Yosuke Hanamura - M | Labrys - Multiform-We

Chie Satonaka - We or M? | Yukiko Amagi M or We?

Kanji Tatsumi - M? | Naoto Shirogane - We?

Rise Kujikawa - Wi (??? animal)

Phantom Thieves:

Ren Amamiya - M | Morgana - We

Ryuji Sakamoto - M or We? | Yuuki Mishima We or M?

Yusuke Kitagawa - M | Ann Takamaki - We (a whip)

Makoto Nijima - We or M? | Haru Okumura - M or We?

Goro Akechi - M | Robin Hood - We (a bow) | Loki - We (a greatsword)

Kasumi Yoshizawa - M | Sumire Yoshizawa - We (a ribbon wand)

Futaba Sakura - Wi (??? animal)

Etc:

Daisuke Nagase - We or M? | Kou Ichijo - M or We?

Rei - H

Zen - We, H, or maybe O?

Takuto Maruki - H

Sho - M | Minazuki - We (separate entities in this; Minazuki's a katana)

Shuji Ikutsuki - H

Takaya Sakaki - M | Jin Shirato - We | Chidori Yoshino - We (formerly)

Marie/Izanami-no-Mikoto - Wi (??? animal)

More Notes:

The 'Wild Cards' in this just have really good partnership/Resonance abilities with everyone in their groups, so they can work with any of the Weapons in their groups (and even outside of them a lot of times... looking at Ren and Loki for an example. xP) uncannily naturally.

The Navis in this are all Witches, but good-natured ones, and use their magic to support their respective groups/help make the world a better place. For example, Futaba would probably be able to 'hack' souls somehow with her magic, and also her reclusiveness in this would be at least in part due to being terrified of people finding out her true nature as a Witch. I'm not sure how welcomed/persecuted/the general climate of Witches are/is in this AU yet though.

The Arisato twins and Ryoji are all children of Death in this, with Ryoji being the older sibling and the twins being twins. Death is still Death like he is in SE-OG in this AU, more or less.

Ryoji and Aigis tend to float between Minato and Minako as their secondary partners, though Aigis tends to stick more to Minato as his primary partner and much less often swaps to Minako, while Ryoji shifts between his two siblings more frequently. Yukari swaps about as much as the rest of SEES's Weapons do among their Wild Cards, which is more or less situationally or for fun. Despite this, Aigis and Ryoji still don't get along particularly well with one another, only putting up with each other for their Meisters' sakes.

Strega did exist in this, though I'm not sure yet what their aim was, or the fate of its members. At the very least, they were some kind of rogue antagonist group, and Takaya used to be the Meister of both Jin and Chidori. Chidori ends up defecting to DWMA though, or whatever organization Junpei is a part of.

Aigis, maybe Ryoji?, Mitsuru, Labrys, and Minazuki are all Weapons that can fight without Meisters. Loki and/or Robin Hood might also be among them? I'm undecided.

Originally, I was considering having the cast have their Personas as their Weapon-partners, and just have them have personalities based off of their Shadow-selves' but more aligned with their accepted-selves, but I decided against it in the end. Akechi gets to be the exception, because he's Akechi.

Speaking of Akechi-- Robin and Loki are very powerful Weapons in this AU. Loki's 'chaos magic' would become an incredibly chaotic/maddening soul-wavelength that most others wouldn't be able to handle contact with on its own, as well as perhaps some Madness magic or abilities of some kind? Robin's soul meanwhile would be much calmer and help to counteract/cover-up Loki's from those who can sense souls, as well as perhaps provide some tactical abilities; I'm undecided on that for now. I'm not sure who's side Akechi would be on in this AU yet, like if he was being manipulated by a Shido-like person or not, and for what reason if so.

As for Robin and Loki's personalities and appearances in this... Well, the latter would be somewhat similar to their Persona forms probably, including some of the less-human traits given OG-SE characters (*stares intensely at Excalibur*), and the former would also be somewhat based off of those, as well as sort of how Akechi acts in relation to both of his 'masks'? So Robin tends to be calmer and more polite, though he still possesses a small amount of vengeful desire or bloodlust, whilst Loki is a lot more chaotic, hot-blooded, and very vengeful/aggressive. Both share a tendency towards showiness however, and sometimes get in small competitions with one another to up the other to impress their Meister or be the better Weapon among themselves (since they both might think already that they're superior to other Weapons in general? Unsure).

Also speaking of manipulated and abused children, Sho and Minazuki, alongside Ikutsuki, more or less replace Crona, Ragnarok, and Medusa in this. Not fully 1-for-1 however. Ikutsuki is very much a human, albeit a Mad or power-hungry one (still kinda looking to create a Kishin or otherwise bring about some kind of catastrophic destruction), and Minazuki is a separate Weapon, as opposed to how Ragnarok is Crona's Black Blood. Minazuki and Sho might be twins however, just with one a human/Meister and the other a Weapon. They look almost identical physically in this AU, even down to haircuts, but Minazuki lacks the iconic X-ish shaped face scarring that Sho possesses (and overall the two have a different patterning of scars across their bodies), and Sho's irises appear to be more gray while Minazuki's appear to be more blue. Weapon-form-wise, Minazuki looks like Sho's OG katanas, just in different colors and as a singular blade rather than a pair.

Ikutsuki is still forcing Sho and Minazuki to become stronger in similar methods to Medusa in some ways however, such as going out and obtaining/consuming great amounts of human (and maybe even Witch) souls.

Sho's a little less messed-up than Crona is, due to Minazuki being supportive of and dedicated to him as opposed to bullying him into submission like Ragnarok does to Crona. That being said however, I don't yet know why Minazuki hasn't yet defected from Ikutsuki. P: Other than that, Minazuki is kind of like Sho's impulse control and logical reasoning at times, due to being able to control when he transforms into his Weapon form and thus deny Sho access to his weaponry in times where he's being reckless or unreasonable. Soul-wavelengths-wise, too, Minazuki's soul just in general helps to keep Sho's soul/wavelength more stable probably?

Also in terms of replacing SE cast and plots; The IT replaces Maka et al for the sake of the main story most likely, with SEES being their upperclassmen or alumni and the PT being their underclassmen, if they even attend DWMA at this point anyways.

Lotsa dead people in OG are alive in this AU; Minato, Minako, and Ryoji, Shinjiro, Kasumi, etc.

Speaking of Kasumi; she fights kind of like Sumire does in Royal, that being making use of their gymnastics and priorly-athletic builds. Both sisters are gymnists in this still.

Alternatively, Sho and Minazuki's situations almost ended up reversed, leaving a highly impulsive/aggressive Weapon-Sho and a Meister-Minazuki who would have the kinda backwards idealology of trying to protect his Weapon partner in times where it would be best left to the Weapon to defend their Meister, but also really good at getting Sho to focus when wielding him as a weapon/in resonance (and can in general reign him in to some degree while others can't), making them an exceedingly deadly duo. I kind of prefer Minazuki as the Weapon however, as fun as the reverse could be, as it gives Ikutsuki a bit more leverage over Sho's situation I think? Also in that vein, it would make a lot of sense, given OG, for Minazuki to be more like a Black Blood entity like Ragnarok; however, I like Minazuki being able to have his own body in this, so that can be left for another AU perhaps. xP

Ikutsuki would infiltrate/be trusted by the DWMA in this AU at first, like Medusa was, but eventually get outed for his true intentions most likely. He might be a teacher or other kind of faculty rather than a nurse however?

Maruki meanwhile gets to play the role of school nurse in this. He's not a few screws loose like his Royal counterpart is though, he's just a humble nurse. However, he does still have his interest in researching dangerous subjects, though I haven't yet decided if that would be magic, Witches, Madness, Kishins, or what. It could potentially put him in knowing-contact with the Navis, if they aren't already known to be Witches by the DWMA anyways.

I'm not yet sure on what to do with Adachi or Nyx yet. Nyx might be some kind of Madness-related catastrophe, power, or individual perhaps however?

Rei and Zen are probably just civilians in this. Zen just happens to be really devoted to protecting/looking after(?) Rei still. xD

I'm undecided on if Marie should be amnesiac about her Witchhood or if she should be more like Izanami-no-Mikoto from OG in this.

Yusuke is still obsessed with artistry and beauty in this, so you can imagine what he's like as a Meister. He is still capable as a fighter and dependable when needed... more or less, but is also still easily distracted by, and places higher priority on, such things.

Ryuji kinda gets the short end of the stick because I didn't particularly know who to pair him with or what really to do with him at the moment. Mishima's a big tentative as his partner as a result of that, though I think it could prove to be an interesting relationship potentially.

I'm hoping to add more SL/Confidant and secondary/tertiary/background cast peeps eventually into various roles, but I'd need to do more refreshing/research on them first. I also haven't decided on if I should include Metis in this or not.

If the SE info is inaccurate, it's because I haven't seen the anime or read-up on it in like years. I might do clarifying/fact-checking research some day, but for now, nah. xP

#Capri's Persona-AU Musings #Persona series #Persona 3 #Persona 4 #Persona 4 Arena #Persona 4 Arena Ultimax #Persona 5 #Persona Q: SotL #Soul Eater #Persona x SE AU #pretty much involves the casts of all of those games #not the SE cast really though as it's more using the setting of SE with the Persona cast; sorry folks

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

Massage Therapist Erik

warnings: Anal, AU Erik, Nasty talk.

I am here to worship your mind and your body.

To me in this moment no one exists but you.

I am here to appreciate every stretch mark,

Love handle,

Blemish,

And scar.

You are more than your pain.

You are the embodiment of life and love.

Let me help you find you again.

As a massage therapist you must be careful to make your clients feel as comfortable as possible from the moment they step into the office. A clinical style office with bare white walls and empty shelves will make a person seeking relief feel more like they walked into a doctor’s office than into the hands of a competent, caring therapist. Paint the walls a warm color. Start with pale neutrals or warm, dark colors such as shades of brown or a rustic red or orange. Set the ambience with candles of different scents on shelves. Candle light always sets the mood and sparks relaxation. Invest in massage tables with thick foam cushioning and thermal capabilities. A whirlpool jacuzzi tub is a beautiful, visually pleasing, and fulfilled look that will have your clients envisioning they are in the comfort of their home. Soothing massage oils and creams will leave your clients skin extra soft and incredibly smooth while giving them a rich healthy glow at the same time. Your clients can also add the oils to their jacuzzi bath for a long and relaxing soak that will leave them practically glowing.

Erik Stevens, licensed Massage Therapist and Instructor for six years just opened his very own center titled Infinite Pleasure Day & Nite Spa with a full staff of young black Massage Therapists and Estheticians fresh out of the school he’s an instructor for. Erik offered them full-time and part-time positions and pay starting at $25 HR with the chance to earn more. The center closes at 10 PM but depending on the clientele, the center can stay open as long as it needs to. The uniforms for the ladies are black tunic wrap tops with black pants and the guys wear black polo shirts with black pants. On the back of the uniform shirts in gold is Erik’s business logo. It's the Hand of Midas with the silhouette of a woman’s curves superior to it. Even though Erik has his own spa, he takes personal house calls from some of his favorite lady clients. Erik will have a consultation with his clients to discuss and collaborate on how the mood should be set for the therapy session. Some prefer total silence because it heightens their senses, others like it if he talks with a soft spoken voice, sometimes they like it when he plays R&B music, and almost always they want the lights out with candles lit to set the mood.

As much as he loved being a Massage Therapist, the physical demands can cause you to burn out. Self-care is indubitably important and being as physically fit as possible. The most important piece of equipment a massage therapist has is their own body. Erik stresses the importance of proper nutrition and diet, getting good enough sleep, and taking time out. It’s all about rejuvenation. Poor body mechanics can cause injuries to your hands, arms, shoulders, and back. Generating pressure from the core of the body and relieving neck strain by not looking at his strokes----keeping the head and neck in a neutral, extended position, and resting his chin against his neck to relieve the extensors is how Erik prevents work-related injury. Erik prefers to close his eyes when working because it reminds him that he does not need to watch the work being done so often---it allows him to better focus on what he is feeling with his hands. Erik’s strong, smooth hands have been compared to that of an angel or silk dragging across your skin. His smooth baritone allows you to let go and heal. Imagine how intense it is to have Erik as your Massage Therapist and not be turned on?

When I touch my client’s body, I touch their whole being---their intellect, their spirit, their emotions…

It’s a Thursday evening at Infinite Pleasure Day & Nite Spa and so far throughout the scorching hot day, at least twenty clients have been tended to. Kobi, the new hire receptionist, grabs the keys to the spa entrance, locking the commercial glass double doors. She twirls the key ring around her left pointer finger while walking back to the front desk. Kobi removes her black blazer, stretching out her arms to relieve tension in her back before pulling the bottom of her white blouse down since it had ridden up from her stretching. Kobi leans her head side to side, cracking her cervical vertebrae and then she rolls her shoulders before grumbling in pain. Her cleavage heaved when she released a deep breath before grabbing her black, mini Tory Burch bag from beneath the desk. Kobi then grabs her phone and charger, placing it within her bag. Shuffling from behind the desk, Kobi shuts off the front lobby lights, turning the corner towards the back of the spa.

Kobi punches out with her personal PIN number on a wall-mounted time clock. Finally, Kobi lets her heat-damaged, curly nut-brown hair down, using her fingers to separate the half wavy, half curly strands. The faintly lit hallway made Kobi’s skin more sepia as she walked towards the back entrance of the spa. Kobi notices one of the massage room doors is still open, sighing with a roll of her eyes before approaching the door to close it. Upon arriving at the door, Kobi fought back a rising panic when she noticed the room was still occupied. When the person turned around, she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

“Erik, I thought you had left,” Kobi says with a faint smile and a hand to her chest.

“Spilled some of this massage oil, I forgot to recap it,” Erik chuckles at her terror stricken face while using a black cotton rag to absorb the oil spill from one of the shelves used to store items. Once he was finished, Erik tossed the rag in a linen basket before blowing out the candles.

“Will you be in tomorrow?” Kobi asked as she watched Erik cover each candle. Kobi’s eyes cascaded down Erik’s back like she was following a stream of water. Even through his black polo, Erik’s sculpted body is clearly seen and wickedly tempting to caress.

“Hey, Kobi, can you push that button to turn off the music?” Erik asks. Kobi pushes a black button beneath the automatic lightswitch to the room, pausing the instrumental to Brian McKnight’s Anytime. While he wiped down the massage table, Kobi examined the way his muscles flexed and bunched beneath the russet skin of his bicep. Eyes traveling up the length of his bulky arm, Kobi allowed her coffee-brown eyes to outline the shape of his thick lips, and chiseled jawline. His tapered locs were covering his onyx eyes before he straightened his back, extending his neck to remove them from his line of vision. Erik could feel Kobi staring and when his onyx eyes connected with hers, Kobi immediately looked away before bringing her hand up to massage a kink from her neck.

“Still in pain I see. So, that must mean you didn’t take my advice?” Erik raises an accusatory brow at Kobi, “You know how important it is to take care of your posture, Kobi...c’mere,” Erik motioned with a curl of his finger for Kobi to come to him, “Sit right here, it should be dry now.”

Kobi takes a seat on the edge of the massage table, resting her bag, black blazer, and car keys next to her right thigh. Kobi clears her throat nervously before straightening her back, a whimper slipping past her oval-shaped lips. Erik shakes his head before standing behind Kobe, bringing his skillful and veined hands up to her slender shoulders, leaving a little space between them to make it more comfortable. Erik formed a loose ‘C’ shape with his hands while keeping his thumbs straight. Erik feels for the smooth contour of the muscles just above her collar bones with his fingertips.

“I didn’t even realize how long your hair is, Kobi,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone.

“Oh,” Kobe shakes her head so the strands can fall forward, “Yeah, I do wear it up a lot.”

“Well, maybe you should wear it down more often,” Erik begins, drawing Kobi’s muscles up with gentle, consistent pressure. He constantly presses the tips of his fingers and thumbs into her trapezius muscles from both sides, starting at the inside of her shoulders closer to her neck. Everytime Erik would roll her muscles up towards her collarbones without releasing his grip, Kobe would groan. The muscles in his arms worked to squeeze and lift and as quickly as he started, Kobi became more comfortable and relaxed.

“This damaged hair? Please,” Kobe lets out a panting breath before closing her eyes, “I need to chop it all off and start over again.”

“Shit, I think it’s pretty,” Erik raises and lowers his forearms with slow, smooth motions while focusing on the side of Kobi’s pretty brown face, “The two different curl patterns...I like this wild look on you.”

“Stop with the lies, Erik,” Kobi rolled her eyes before hissing, “Damn...that felt good.”

“Yeah?” Erik went slower to make it feel even better, “Wait until I get to your neck, you’ll be moaning then.”

Kobi’s eyes shot open and her eyelids rapidly blinked, “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m wearing pants instead of a skirt---shit, that was inappropriate,” Kobi slaps her forehead. Erik could do that to you---make you say the first thing on your mind no matter how vulgar and X-rated it is.

“It was honest,” Erik clarifies with a deep voice so close to Kobi’s ear that it made the tiny hairs on her earlobe raise, “It happens all the time believe it or not.”

“...What happens all the time?” Kobi says with rapid attention.

“My lady clients getting wet,” from her shoulders, Erik starts to massage Kobi’s neck with light, long strokes, finding her tension spots and applying focused pressure, “A lot of my clients get nervous and scared because they think they’ll get wet or aroused...who cares...if you’re stopping yourself from getting turned on you have too much control over your body...I always tell them to let go, it’s okay, we replace the sheets between every client,” Kobi and Erik share a laugh, “But honestly it’s just about enjoying yourself and letting your mind run free during the experience...I got you,” Erik kneaded his thumbs into Kobi’s tense muscles in a circular motion before gliding his fingers into her hairline.

“Can I be your new client?” Kobi says with a honeyed voice. Erik bites his lip before bringing his fingers around to massage Kobi’s throat.

“Why? So I can make you wet?”

Kobi wanted to say, “But you already make me wet, daddy.” Instead, she says, “So you can help relieve this pain, Mr. Stevens…” Kobi blushes.

“You know I got you, Kobi...I do house calls too.”

Kobi nibbled on her bottom lip. She realizes that her panties are soaked. If only she could let go and unfasten her pants, kick them off, and pull the crotch of her panties to the side. If his fingers feel this good on her skin his tongue would feel even better licking her clit. Her imprudent thoughts in this precise moment are barbaric and Kobi wanted nothing more than for Erik’s heavenly hands to slip inside of her blouse to twirl her nipples. Kobi’s thigh jerked and her fingers gripped the edge of the massage table so harsh that it rubbed painfully against the palm of her hand.

“Better?” Erik’s voice knocked Kobi out of her fantasy. She flexed her back and rubbed her neck before turning to Erik with her appreciative eyes sparkling, “Thank you so much, Erik. I don’t know how else to thank you.”

“Come in with your hair down tomorrow...like this,” Erik uses his thick fingers to part Kobi’s hair and stroke it to the left side of her face for a more untamed look, “You look freshly fucked.”

Alarmed by his words, Kobi’s coffee-brown eyes blinked at Erik slowly. No man has ever talked to her so boldly like that. Kobi licks her lips then bites her bottom one. Kobi was definitely playing with fire since Erik is her boss and she does have a boyfriend waiting for her at home. It would surely be inappropriate if Kobi were to lay back on the massage table, take off her black pants and drenched panties, and spread her thighs so wide so her wet little pussy can open up for Erik to see. She could almost feel the warmth of Erik’s breath drawing closer and closer as his head lowered between her trembling thighs. Kobi wondered if he stroked pussy with his tongue first or if he wrapped his thick lips around the inner folds to suck. Either way, Kobi’s clit jumped, her walls quivered, and her nipples stiffened to pebbles.

“Is your boyfriend picking you up? Erik gives Kobi a teasing smile with a tilt of his head. His onyx eyes damn near tunneled through hers the more he stared.

“No..I drove the car today, “ Kobi inhaled sharply, “It’s getting late, I should probably head out.”

“Yeah, he’s probably worried,” Erik creates space between them both and it felt much colder, “Go ahead...get some rest baby girl, you know it’s gonna be yet another busy ass day tomorrow.”

“You’re right, let me get my ass home,” Kobi laughs nervously before standing from the table. She adjusts her pants, “Thanks again, Erik. For real...I appreciate it.”

“Don’t trip, you know I got you whenever you need me.”

Silence hung between them both and from the way Erik was watching her Kobi was worried about what she would do...what she shouldn’t do. Gathering her things, Kobi gives Erik a final polite smile before turning to leave, sauntering out of the massage room as quickly as she can leaving Erik and his fattened dick behind.

______________

XMilanaRoseX: It’s demon time, how should I fuck this phat pussy tonight?

Milana Russell--- Nevada born and raised before she moved to California. Milana graduated from the University of Southern California with a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and is now pursuing a master’s in criminology. Milana has a heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, full lips, shoulder length locs with honey blonde tips, 5’10 and full-figured. Her golden eyes are captivating and her mellifluous voice makes you bend at her will. Milana has her webcam set up in her newly furnished bedroom for some late night play time. There are an assortment of toys on her bed and she’s already oiled down to make her curves stand out more for her horny viewers. Milana is wearing pastel multicolored fluffy cat ears with a holographic heart choker and dramatic grunge makeup with pink glitter and glitter gloss on her lips. Milana kneeled on her heart-shaped bed in white velvet while cupping her large breasts and pointing them towards the camera. Milana jiggles both D cup breasts before releasing them and making them sway in the camera.

“I know Tuesday was titty day but you can never have enough titties,” Milana massaged her oily breasts sensually, “I bet you would love to have a pair like this...these pretty ass titties...you wanna dick my pussy down while sucking on these big ass cocoa titties? Huh? Suck on these chocolate hershey kiss nipples? Hm? I bet your girlfriend don’t know how much you wanna lick and suck on my nipples...not to mention this sweet juicy black pussy,” Milana sucks on her fingers before dragging them down to rub her clit. Her attentive eyes focused on the screen of her Macbook, reading the comments and giggling at some of the responses.

SoulSnatcherrr: Damn babi they are so beautiful.

TyanaBiLove: Can I have you please?

Nuttinyou_: I’ll hold them up for you mama don’t worry. Then I’ll slobber all over them bitches.

TribbQueen94: You wanna meet up? I just wanna rub my pussy against yours all fucking night baby. Then I wanna eat your pussy over and over until you cum on my face. 😛

LaflameDaddy: Made it home just in time to see my favorite girl in action...as always those titties are looking scrumptious...I’m tryna see that chocolate pussy...can’t forget that tight ass either...turn around and show big daddy where his dick belong at girl...stop playing with me.

“Oh yeah, Laflame?” Milana says to one of her fans, “you wanna suck my pussy and fuck my ass? You always wanna fuck my ass, daddy,” Milana turns around, showing her orbit of an ass off that filled up the entire camera. Milana takes one of her hands to spread her cheeks to reveal the amethyst jeweled butt plug snugly fitting into her asshole.

LaflameDaddy: I’ll stretch that tight ass until your eyes roll back little girl...I see you got them toys out…Always ready to fuck that tight pussy like a good girl...I need your pussy in my mouth...wish I could show you this big dick right now standing straight up.

Milana read the comment from LaflameDaddy while biting on her bottom lip, “That’s exactly what I plan to do, daddy…” Milana and whoever LaflameDaddy is have been flirting and sexting back and forth for about three months now. His avatar is a picture of his muscular torso oiled down, his thick brown pipe in his hand, and the devil emoji enlarged over his face. Out of all the nasty, freaky comments Milana receives, LaflameDaddy stood out the most. Milana was sure her other fans envied his gifted tongue that impressed Milana. She really wanted to know how he looked. Milana didn’t do meet-ups with any of her fans for many reasons but LaflameDaddy was worth the risk.

“So, I don’t know which one of you sent me a new toy to play with but I’m excited to use it tonight,” Milana reaches behind her with a big smile on her face, grabbing the little pink love egg to show it off proudly, “isn’t it adorable?!! I heard about these things and I’ve always wanted to try it out,” Milana plays with the little antenna with her finger, “this shit is powerful. I turned it on to test it and the vibration is so damn strong...and it’s controlled with Bluetooth technology so I already know whoever got this for me has something planned,” Milana positions herself towards the edge of her heart-shaped bed with her legs elevated and spread wide open. Milana grabs her bottle of oil, tilting it over so that the heated oil can glaze her phat pussy lips.

LaflameDaddy: your soul is about to be knocked out.

AlluringAlyssa: I have one! We should FaceTime and cum together!

blackhornyyyvirgin: I can’t wait to see you squirt 😊

Shaq_88: ummmmm 😋

Milana rubs her outer lips, leaning back on her elbow while rolling her hips seductively in the camera. The tips started racking in and LaflameDaddy was tipping in a lump sum amount. In a short amount of time being a cam girl, Milana’s tip goals were hit faster and faster. They tip her because they WANT to see her shows. Milana always does things right, and her viewers anticipate it all day. Her computer chimed each time Milana would show off her yummy pussy.

LaflameDaddy: $30

LaflameDaddy: $40

LaflameDaddy:$50

LaflameDaddy: Stop teasing and put that vibrator in…and that butt plug is adorable but I know that asshole is begging for some dick...ummm I see that pussy leaking mama...I wanna lick up every drop of your pussy juice and bury my tongue in your ass 👅

“You’re a nasty nigga, Laflame,” Milana laughs lightly, “You live in Oakland?”

I-love-eating-pussylipss: I’m in Oakland. What's good baby?!

Nastyasfuckkk: $25 👀

PussiiFairy: Laflame can you tip me too? 🥺 Check out my OnlyFans big dick daddy…

LaflameDaddy: 😈 didn’t I tell you to put that vibrator in daddy’s pussy? Stop playing with me.

“Okay, daddy, shit,” Milana laughs again before bringing the pink bullet vibrator to her snug entrance, rubbing it up and down her labia before pushing it inside. The pink antenna dangled from her pussy. Milana brings her knees to her chest and with her phone in hand, Milana starts playing some music. The viewers were even more provoked by Milana’s little show when Twista ft. Trey Songz- Girl Tonite started playing. Milana hisses, here golden eyes love-struck as she focused on the camera. Full lips wide with surprise, Milana started panting. There is no way she could hold her moan. A single vein popped out of Milana’s neck and her gluteal muscles clenched. The different vibration patterns were jumbled on purpose so she wouldn’t expect it.

“FUCK!!!!!” Milana’s fists clenched and her hips left the bed, “Umph, mmmmmmm, uhhhhh, Unh!!!!!” Milana closed her thighs, “Oh my God—“ Milana was creating a puddle of liquid beneath her cheeks, “Goddamn, who is controlling this?!!!”

The vibrations stopped. Milana sat up in her bed, wiping the sweat from her chest. She brings her left hand down between her legs, tugging on the antenna and pulling it out. There, creating a honey trail is her sticky arousal. Her expressive eyes alone showed how shocked she was. That tiny, almighty toy made her squirt and cream in less than a minute. Milana’s golden eyes focused on her camera, wondering just who was the culprit that sent her this heavenly toy. It came with a hand-written card. Milana still remembers those compelling words as if it was recited to her.

Surrender yourself so I can cater to you.

Submit to my flow.

Aren’t you tired of being in control?

Don’t you deserve a moment to see what it feels like to be catered to.

To have all the attention on you.

Don’t make me wait...come get on this table.

Milana was confused by the last bit of the note until she noticed a free pass for an all-in-one spa experience. Infinite Pleasure Day & Nite Spa. Milana heard so much about it. Her best friend, Kobi is a receptionist there. She always talked about how amazing the black-owned business is. Milana had been meaning to get around to it but the pricing was extreme and she already has so many other things to take care of. Car payment, rent, student loans, utilities, cat food, and not to mention anything she needed for herself. Seeing that free pass reminded Milana of how much she needed to relieve stress, reduce muscle tension, and increase her joint mobility and flexibility. A playful smile spread across Miana’s lips as she typed a message on her live chat.

XMilanaRoseX: Thanks daddy Laflame 🥰 are you gonna come clean me up with your tongue when I’m done cumming on this amazing gift?

LaflameDaddy: girl I would eat all of that. Why don’t you put that toy in your mouth and tell daddy how good you taste so I can bust a nut. You’re welcome cutie.

Milana sucked on her toy, “It tastes so sweet.”

DigHerOut_: I wanna eat the hell out of her!!!!

EroticSoulBeauty: fuck that’s so damn juicy 🤤

LaflameDaddy: Yummy...phat creamy pussy...ima indulge in that deliciousness all fucking day when I get you...make your Lil ass cum all over my thick dick.

Milana lifts one leg up before impatiently bringing the vibrator back to her pussy like it never left. As soon as her vaginal walls clenched the toy the deep, rumbling vibrations damn near galloped through her body. Milana bites on her knee to focus but there was no way in hell she was going to fight off her next nut. Laflame was not playing with her. Milana locked eyes with the camera as if he was staring right back at her. She didn’t need to rub her clit because the intense vibrations had her entire pussy trembling and begging for a release.

LaflameDaddy: That's a good girl...I wanna suck that phat cum filled pussy baby...let me lick all that for you girl...shit…

LaflameDaddy: DAMN!!

Milana was leaking all over the place. When she tried to take the vibrator out Laflame turned it up higher causing her fingers to tremor. Her body fell backward against her bed and her hips started rocking back and forth. The vibrations would start off faintly and increase pulsate to a supreme level that has Milana’s abdominal muscles tied up in knots and her heart skipping a beat.

“Shit daddy you got my pussy cumming so hard…” Milana grabs her nine inch, girthy crystal dildo, sucking on it sloppily while twirling it in her mouth. The vibrations continuously fluctuates and at this point Milana didn’t even anticipate her orgasm——it just happened within the blink of an eye. Dildo slipping from her mouth, Milana yanks the vibrator from her pussy and replaces it with the crystal dildo. Her pussy was jammed-full with the circumference of the dildo. Milana rests the vibrator against her clit at the same time she fucks herself. From the tip and down to the base Milana saturated that dildo, covering its transparency with her cream.

LaflameDaddy: got me throbbing hard Milana. Can I have some of that pussy? That thick wet pussy needs some dick mmmm 😋

LaflameDaddy: ima hit that pussy hard...oh you really creaming now...that’s a pussy I’m not pulling out of.

“This big ass dick...I know how much you like to watch me fuck myself...you wanna stretch me out just like this dick don’t you? both of my holes?” Milana knows exactly what to say to drive Laflame crazy. He tips her money again.

LaflameDaddy: It would be my please to stretch that asshole open for you...get it used to being filled up to the brim 😩 ima have your ass addicted fucking with me.

Milana started seeing black spots. Her loud, ear piercing moans were on replay. Milana’s clit was stiff and hypersensitive from the vibrator. It dropped from her shaky fingers and for the third time that evening Milana climaxed. The grip from her pussy around the dildo caused her to squirt yet again. It was the wide tip stroking her G spot that created the water works. Milana blinked tears from her eyes. Words couldn’t describe how hard she just orgasmed. Usually, Milana can last at least an hour in a session, however, her body was so weakened that she couldn’t even sit up in her bed. Every time she tried to touch her clit Milana would yank her hand away because of the heightened sensitivity. Her walls would lock up like a boa constrictor would his prey.

LaflameDaddy : Milana, you still tryna meet up? I need to take care of that body, baby...I just need one night to change your life, girl...you know you want daddy to make you cum so what’s good?”

XMilanaRoseX: tonight? 🥺

Brownskinmami: Can I join y’all? 😢

DarkskinZaddy: ayo Laflame we can share her bruh!

LaflameDaddy: Yeah tonight, I’m not playing no games.

Did this even need a thought process? Laflame sent Milana a $180 dollar tip tonight and that’s not even the highest he’s tipped her. He sent her a gift, spending more money on her when he could simply be a freeloader and watch her cum without emptying his pockets. Laflame made her pussy wetter than any big dick man that had the opportunity to sample her cookies. At this point, she didn’t even care if he wasn’t the best looking guy, his body and his fat dick was enough to convince her that he could do whatever he wanted to her.

XMilanaRoseX: tonight it is then. My place 😊

LaflameDaddy: Bet. I’ll bring my stuff to set up 😏 ima send you a DM.

“Hello?”

Milana spoke into her cell, voice barely audible. Laflame kept his word and sent Milana a DM for her address and cell number. This was probably going to be the only time Milana ever met up with one of her webcam fans. She hoped that he was about that action.

“Milana,” His smooth baritone voice rocked her like an unsteady boat.

“You said your name is Erik,” Milana nibbled on the rim of her wine glass.

“Yeah, that’s me...I’m on my way to you but I gotta ask you something first if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Milana was a little wine drunk, “Ask away.”

“Aight, so, I’m a professional Massage Therapist. I know I sent you a free pass to my spa but I really want to give you the experience at home.”

A male masseuse. This man was the total package. He’s a freak, he’s an entrepreneur, and he’s got gifted hands. Milana felt spoiled and she wasn’t about to turn down a goddamn massage especially when she needs one tremendously.

“After all that squirting you were doing you need me to take care of you.”

“So...are you coming to fuck me or massage me?” Milana cracks a smile.

“I’m coming to fuck you and massage you…”

“Mmm...so what’s your question?”

“I like to give my clients the full experience, you know? Make them feel appreciated, give them a taste of passion...what do you like? Music playing? Me whispering in your ear? Candles lit to set the mood? What?”

“I’d like all of that actually,” Milana twirled her glass of wine with a blush on her face, “I need that so bad tonight.”

“Well I got what you need, I’m here to relax you. Are you allergic to strawberries? Coconut?”

“I don’t have any allergies.”

“Good, cuz I got something special in mind for you, Miss Milana.”

“A man who’s not only gonna dick me down and slut me out but also worships my body...I want and need this, Erik,” Milana says with a soft, smooth, and pleasant sound of her voice in Erik’s ear.

“I'm one of those men that likes to take care of a woman... not only dress her in sexy clothes... take her out when the opportunity arises... but pamper her stressed out body with no expectations... treat her to a sensual massage not only to relieve the worries of the world but also to help her heal from the relentless pounding of my always horny and hard dick. Daddy has to take care of his play things.”

“Damn...you have so much passion for what you do.”

“...Nothing I love more than giving a woman a great massage followed by a deep, strong dick down.”

“Ohhh yes,” Erik was stimulating Milana’s mind with his sultry tongue, “When I say I need a massage....this is exactly what I mean...what I gotta do to get this treatment on the regular?”

“Open your door first.”

Three knocks at her apartment door has Milana jumping up from her spot on the couch, fixing her black silk robe. She tucked a few of her locs behind her ear before sauntering towards her apartment door. With one golden eye, Milana glimpsed through the wide angle lens of the peephole to find a man dressed in athletic attire and carrying a bag on his shoulder and a portable massage table under his left arm. Opening her door, Milana comes face to face with LaflameDaddy himself. He’s wearing a pair of black and gold Nike running shoes, light grey Champion sweats, and a black muscle tee. His tapered locs are pulled back into a ponytail with the sides faded. Erik’s eyebrows knitted together and his onyx eyes surveyed her like she was standing naked before him.

_________________

Everything on Milana was heavy-set; her breasts, her hips, her pudgy belly, her thighs. Her skin reminded Erik of the rich amber color of honey. Those striking golden eyes and lashes that framed her eyes like black lace are spellbinding. Erik would have never guessed that Milana was a tall, thick woman. His affixed eyes slowly descended her body and when they came to rest on her feet he had to bite back his gravelly groan. Pretty pussy, pretty asshole, and pretty toes. Erik wanted all of them in his mouth. Milana’s French tip acrylic nail lifted Erik’s jaw off of the floor. He chuckles with a bite of his lip. Erik stared at the doe-eyed beauty attentively as he walked into her apartment. Erik notices a few totes piled near her apartment door, a new suede sofa set, a mahogany wood coffee table, abstract black woman wall art, and an open balcony with sheer autumn-colored curtains billowing from the wind of the eventide sky.

On Milana’s upper left thigh is a large tattoo of a lion with a mandala flower design. She looked like she was fresh from the shower——smelled like it too. Erik sits his bag on her couch and leans his portable massage table against a nearby wall before moving Milana’s mahogany coffee table out of the way to create more room. Erik grabs his massage table and starts setting it up within the space he created. His sexual appetite for Milana became excessive when she took a seat on her couch with her robe loosely wrapped around her body to expose her big tits for him. When her tits spilled out Erik could only smile at her eagerness.

“Do you offer naked massages?” Milana asks with her beautiful voice like music to his ears.

“I already planned on doing that. Question is, can you handle it?”

“I can handle whatever you give me, daddy...I handled that gift you sent me.”

Erik checked to make sure the massage table was sturdy and secure before strolling over to Milana, taking a seat beside her on the couch. Erik pulls out his phone and unlocks it to show Milana his mobile STD testing results. Negative across the board. Milana did the exact same thing, grabbing her phone and showing Erik her results. Also negative. It was something so mature and sexy about the entire exchange and it made Erik crave her more. Without evening thinking about it Erik’s hand reached out to caress Milana’s exposed left thigh while his hungry eyes drifted to her heavy tits spilling out of her robe.

“So...then I shouldn’t be worried about how you can handle the way I nurture and admire your body and slut that pussy and ass out on repeat?”

“No need to worry baby,” Milana’s hands fondled Erik’s biceps, “ Exactly what I need right now, the sooner I get undressed, the sooner we can do it.”

Erik couldn’t wait to satisfy this freak. Closing the space between them, Erik presses his thick lips against Milana’s. She tasted damn good. He couldn’t combat his tongue and now it was slithering between her full lips and into her wet mouth. He could taste the fruity, tart flavor of the red wine she was drinking. Since it was so silent, the sound of their wet lips smacking with each kiss and their soft moans were amplified. Erik’s lips left Milana’s sticky ones gently but his hand didn't stop stroking her scalp. He doesn’t even remember it being there. The scalp is full of nerve endings and even with the slightest brush of the hair can send tingles through your body. Milana’s eyes closed and her head fell forward slightly. Erik ran his fingernails slightly over her scalp, paying close attention to the space behind her right ear and just above her neck. Milana moaned in his ear when he tugged on her locs in between massaging her scalp.

“Damn, baby, that shit is amazing,” Milana whispered.

“This is lightwork, baby,” Erik spoke with a low tone, “Let me relax you...tell me about your day.”

“It was dull until tonight,” Milana’s lips parted, “mmm, yes.”

Erik’s hands left her hair and Milana’s breath halted when she could no longer feel his touch. She looked up at him through her lashes with pleading eyes for him to continue.

“It’s time for me to give you a good, hard, powerful massage that'll really have your ass moaning and weak to these knuckles and fingers.”

Erik rose from the couch and went to open his bag. He pulls out five different massage oils, a fluffy white towel, a thin white sheet, and three hand-poured massage candles.

“Aight miss Milana, I want you to take off your robe and go lay on that table for me face down,” Erik dug into the left pocket of his sweatpants and his hand came up with a lighter. Milana unfastens her robe and as she walked to the table she allowed the robe to fall from her body. Erik couldn’t fight the urge to steal a peek when Milana climbed onto the table with her round derrière sitting up. Milana folded her arms and rested her chin there with her head propped up and eyes closed.

“Which oil would you like for me to use? I have coconut pineapple...it reminds me of having a cool drink in my hand while relaxing on an exotic beach.”

“That sounds perfect...what are the others?”

“I have Strawberry dreams...it’s pretty sweet. I also have vanilla sandalwood, tropical mango, and island passion berry.”

“That’s a hard one,” Milana giggles, “Uhm...which do you prefer?”

“Well, if it was me and I’m giving my girl a massage I would go for the vanilla sandalwood. That creamy, rich vanilla with that alluring scent of sandalwood...it’s like spending all day in the spa without leaving your home.”

“Then let’s do that,” Milana stroked her locs from her back to give Erik more access.

“Good choice,” Erik sits the massage oil on Milana’s table followed by the three massage candles. Once that was set up, Erik set fire to the candles before turning off the lamp lights in her living room. The candle gives far less illumination than the meanest of electrical light bulbs, yet it is all Erik’s eyes can take. By the flickering yellow the room is dark, the shapes of the furniture discernible but the colours so muted that they are almost grey. The blend of jojoba and soybean oils with warm notes of amber, cedar leaf, and lemongrass, was gentle and soothing.

“Any music preferences?” Erik questioned, his eyes focused on the smooth skin of Milana’s back while he covered her ass with the thin sheet.

“Something sensual would be nice.”

“I can do that,” Erik says with a smirk before finding his favorite R&B playlist. Discovering the perfect song, Erik let’s it play, before resting his phone on the table. There is a sort of poetry behind real R&B music. Usher’s Nice & Slow was one of Erik’s favorites. He was anticipating showing Milana his skills. Removing his muscle tee, Erik grabs the vanilla and sandalwood oil. The bottles were warmed up before he came. Erik applies a little to his hands before doing the same to Milana’s back. His large, veiny hands rubbed in the massage oil with gliding movements in long, even strokes. He could practically see her worries melt away when his hands started working.

“Like that?” Erik inquired.

“Hell yeah,” Milana’s eyes focused on Erik, “you have soft hands for a man.”

“My guess is you ain’t used to that,” Erik tilted his head down at Milana, “where do you have the most tension?”

“My upper back and my lower back.”

“Okay...take slow, deep breaths for me...it’ll help you relax.”

“Like this,” Milana demonstrates her breathing for Erik.

“Exactly,” Erik used the whole of his hand and started at the bottom of Milana’s back, moving upward while applying pressure, and then he lightly brings his hands down the outside of her back delicately. His fingertips stroked the sides of her breasts each time he brought his hands down. Milana’s teeth tugged on her bottom lip. This is definitely foreplay.

“You’ll have me leaving a wet spot massaging me like that.”

“And I’ll be right here to lick it up when I’m done,” Erik reminds her while maintaining contact without applying pressure as he brings his hands back down. He didn’t forget Milana’s shoulders and neck area. This went on for 3-5 minutes while he gradually increased from light to medium pressure to warm up her back muscles.

“Mm,” Milana’s brows furrowed.

“Got a lot of tension in your back, girl,” Erik started with a petrissage technique using shorter, circular strokes with more pressure. He rolled and pressed his hands into Milana’s back to enhance deeper circulation. Erik has her moaning with every motion of his strong hands. Erik’s dick tented the front of his sweats. Looking down, he could see his thick rod twisted to the side. Rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, Erik ignored the pulse from his crotch and continued massaging Milana.

“You are great with your hands, daddy...lawdddd,” Milana hissed.

“It’s nothing like making you feel good with my hands,” Erik whispered.

“Just your hands?” Milana raises a single brow satisfyingly.

“I promise I'd fuck u just as good if not better...let ur pussy wet my dick up…”

“Talk nasty to me,” Milana gasps when Erik’s fingertips tickle the small of her back. The slightest touch there evoked Milana’s pleasure. Erik lowered his head and started licking and kissing that area. Milana’s head shot up and her hips arched from the table. Erik’s forceful hand pushed her back down. Milana looked over her shoulder at him, her golden eyes unblinking. Erik slowly lowered the thin sheet to the floor, revealing her plump backside. Grabbing the oil, Erik covered Milana’s ass while rubbing it in with his free hand.

“I can’t wait to stroke this ass...can you take it?”

“Never did it before, I’ve been training with my plugs.”

Erik spreads Milana’s cheeks and with his thumbs he starts rubbing between her cheeks. That phat pussy from the back caught Erik’s attention and now his thumbs were rubbing up and down her outer lips. Milana’s thighs spread open further for Erik to have more access. With her permission, Erik takes his thumb and pointer finger, spreading Milana’s pussy lips. Her pink glistened like the juiciest piece of fruit. Erik’s tongue is getting hard. He wanted to drop his fat dick all in that pussy. Squeezing his dick through his sweatpants wasn’t a good idea because any type of contact had him ready to bust a nut.

Walking around the table, Erik stands in front of Milana, his hips leaning over her head. Erik started to perform muscle-lifting strokes to Milana’s back in a twisting motion, “When you finally let me fuck that ass ima have you falling in love with anal for ever. Have you wishing you would have been given this ass up,” Erik pushed gently down toward Milana’s lower back, massaging the muscles on either side of her spine.

“With a dick this huge I’m sure you will.”

Erik lowered his head when he felt Milana tugging on his sweatpants. He didn’t stop her, why would he when that monster needed to be freed. Erik’s hands extended down to Milana’s ass and he started kneading the flesh. Milana brings Erik’s sweats down to rest on his upper thighs and she comes face to face with his dick since he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Grinning, Milana grabs Erik’s dick in her hand and starts jerking it.

“Fuck, here,” Erik straightens his back, reaching for the massage oil. He squirts some oil on his dick and Milana’s hand. Recapping the oil and sitting it down,, Erik brings his hands to rest on Milana’s shoulders, kneading them gently while she rubbed the oil in on his dick. With both hands now, Milana jerked Erik’s dick like she was grinding pepper. Before her golden eyes like magic Erik’s dick thickened even more in her hand. The oil brought out the beautiful definition of Erik’s veiny shaft and wide tip. Milana’s eyes glossed over and she exhaled deeply when Erik’s thumbs smoothed out the tension from her shoulders.

“Give me your throat baby... It’s not too much to ask for right?”

“Definitely not,” the flexible tip of Milana’s tongue stroked the head of Erik’s oily dick while she jerked him with both of her hands in a twisting motion. Erik grew impatient and palmed the back of her head, applying pressure and forcing her to swallow him like he wanted. He didn’t care if there was oil on his dick, all he wanted to see was all ten inches of his dick vanish down her throat. Milana’s noisy sucking blended with the R&B music in the background. With her oily hand, Milana massaged Erik’s nut sack while eating his dick up with her drooling mouth.

“I see you know how to handle this fat dick with your mouth,” Erik closed his eyes and extended his head, “take care of daddy’s dick baby and I’ll take real good care of you.”

Milana purposely gags on Erik’s dick while innocently looking him in the eyes. When her lips slipped from around his dick she started jerking him with a smile on her face, “can you please explode on my face daddy?”

“You’re my sexy dick pleaser?” Erik smoothed Milana’s dreads from her eyes.

“I’m your sexy dick pleaser, daddy...make me choke on your big black dick until I cry...I want you to cum on my face.”

“All over this pretty face? Hm?”

“Yes, please,” Milana sucked on the tip of Erik’s dick with a tight suction that had Erik’s nut sack so tight it almost retracted into his body.

“Deeper...open that mouth...stop playing,” Erik pushes forward into her mouth with his toned hips, “oh? You wanna keep playing with me, Milana? I’m gonna put it all in ya throat watch and see,” Erik gripped Milana’s head and started fucking the shit out of her throat like it was a pussy. Yes, he did come here to relieve some tension in her body but he always wanted to slut her out with his fat ass dick. Milana has been teasing him for a few months now. He’s already insatiable when it comes down to pussy. So greedy that he was willing to blow Kobi’s back out in that massage room. Boyfriend or not he was gonna stretch Kobi pussy the fuck out. Now, he finally has Milana’s freaky ass to himself.

Erik puts it all the way down Milana’s throat and watches her get too messy with it and gag because Erik was training her throat. He held his dick there to remind her of how daddy’s dick is supposed to be sucked. Her tears cleansed her cheeks and just when her nose began to run Erik’s dick drew back from her throat. She stared at Erik’s dick with her eyes crossed like she was bewitched.

“I love fucking a pretty face...stay focused baby and make daddy nut...fuck, Milana,” She was driving Erik crazy with the jerk and suck combo, “just like that baby...damn...nasty girl, suck that dick,” Erik licks his lips, “Open that pretty little mouth of yours for your daddy,” Erik takes hold of his dick and slaps it on Milana’s tongue, “Fuck I’m about to bust all over your face, hell yeah that’s a good girl, begging for more? So fucking hungry,” Erik painted Milana’s face with his cum and she tilted her head back far enough to catch some in her mouth as well.

________________

A real-life fantasy is what Milana was experiencing.

She giggled at first, but once she got past the tickle response her laughter was replaced with moans. Milana is on her back now, the front of her body completely exposed for Erik to caress. With his soft, masculine hands Erik rubbed-down Milana’s breasts with the warm oil while his thumbs circled her nipples. At this point, Milana is leaking on the massage table. She didn’t think her nipples could actually get this hard. In between his rubbing, Erik would give her nipples a nice suck to change the pressure. Now, Erik is kissing her neck and moving his hands to her torso. With his hands on her hips, Erik lifted Milana’s back from the table in an arch position.

“I wanna put my face in your ass and pussy so bad...fine ass.” With his fingertips, Erik stroked Milana’s torso with his onyx eyes ablaze and his dick ready to bust yet again. Milana gives Erik a sultry smile before grabbing his dick in her hand again to remind her of how big he is. Erik’s hands slid against each other in opposite directions across her stomach, repeating it over and over until Milana’s hips thrust from the table.

“Patience, baby girl...I gotta work my way down,” Erik walks to the foot of the table to stand between her legs. Erik grabs one of her legs, bringing it up so that her foot could rest on his shoulder. Erik used gentle and light pressure near her bones and sensitive areas. As his circular motion increased, the intensity of the massage increased. Milana was up on her elbows from the bed to watch him knead all the kinks out of her legs. She didn’t know how much she needed this until now.

“You got some pretty feet,” Erik gives Milana’s foot a soft kiss. Grabbing her by the ankle, Erik rests Milana’s toes painted coral pink against his lips. Up and down, Erik rubbed Milana’s toes against his lips. His eyes were enough to show Milana that he was surrendering to her but this time her toes are in his mouth. She never experienced a man sucking on her toes and wouldn’t have imagined how sexy it is to feel and watch at the same time.

“Mmm, that feels so good, baby,” Milana gasps when Erik’s tongue licked the side of her foot, “You’re such a freak, Erik.”

With a smirk on his face, Erik uses his teeth now to nibble on her ankle while his hands massage her foot. Using his thumbs, Erik applied pressure to the ball of Milana’s foot and she almost sat up on the table.

“Yesssss, fuck,” Milana brings her other foot to Erik’s oily chest, “Do this one now...fuck, I like that,” Erik sucks on Milana’s toes, “Unh, fuck, that shit is so damn good baby.”

With her foot, Milana makes Erik’s dick bounce before dragging her toes down to his balls. Erik’s hips jerked back and he playfully bites down on the side of Milana’s foot causing her to giggle. After massaging her other leg, Erik seized both of her legs, pushing her knees towards her chest. There, covered in oil and sitting phat and pretty between her thighs is Milana’s sweet pussy. Seeing it up close and personal almost made him weep. Rubbing down the back of her thighs, Erik really wanted to eat that hot meaty pussy right now. He would eat that pussy till his tongue fell off. Then there’s her tight asshole. He wanted nothing more than to beat it down from the inside. Same thing for her creamy pussy. Hitting both g spots with reckless abandon and endless precision. Play with that pussy and make her focus on him while he beats that ass into submission...and she better not look away...

“...Perfect ass for anal pleasure. Do you agree?”

“Mhm,” Milana moves her hips in a circular motion, “Don’t you wanna eat me up? Have a taste baby? It's good for you,” Milana uses both of her hands to spread her pussy lips.

“What a beautiful view baby,” Erik’s head disappears between Milana’s thighs and the first thing she does is grab for his hair, yanking it from its ponytail, “I want that pussy cumming in my mouth too since you wanna pull on my hair like that.”

Erik tongued every drop of that delicious sight before his eyes. So much pussy juice. He was absolutely overwhelmed with how much she produced the more he licked. Now, Erik’s mouth is watering and his spit is mixed in with Milana’s wetness. Stunning, absolutely delicious it looks so tasty, how good would it be to taste the juice of this gorgeous pussy. That was Erik’s first thought when he first saw Milana’s pussy on webcam. Pussy is the prettiest thing, he would think while he fisted his fat dick into another explosive orgasm. He was sucking Milana’s pussy into submission. He was sucking not just on her clit but on her inner folds and outer lips as well. Got to get the whole pussy in his mouth to really make her cum. At this point, Milana was Erik’s favorite thing to eat with the way she creamed in his mouth. With the way his lips are slurping up and down her pussy, Milana lost whatever control she had and surrendered herself to him for the rest of the night.

“Eat that pussy,” Milana’s eyes grew wide when Erik’s tongue started stroking her ass, “oh my fucking goodness.”

Was Milana really ready? He talked about fucking her in the ass so many times before so she already knows that he will take it by force. He must have read her thoughts because now Erik is fingering Milana’s booty at the same time his mouth found its way back to her pussy.

“Daddy?” Milana questioned while his finger twirled in her booty, “Are you gonna fuck my ass first or my pussy? Unhhhhhh, fuck,” Milana’s thighs locked around his head.

“You got that phat pussy running away from me?” Erik held Milana in place with one strong arm, “When that hole give up and you finally take it you’ll be hitting my phone for this big dick to fill your ass up anytime...fuck, it’s so damn tight...can’t wait to get in this ass,” Erik stopped talking and continued slurping on Milana’s pussy. Her cries were ignored the more he worked his thick lips over her pussy. She could feel herself getting ready to cum again and it was so strong that Milana’s lower half was lifting from the massage table. Her sweet moans of defeat came soon after she started cumming in Erik’s mouth. She had no other choice but to lay there and take it. His mouth didn’t leave her pussy, he sucked his way through her nut until he felt as if she had enough.

“That sweet pussy cumming?”

“YES!!!! Fuck yes it’s cumming for you.”

Erik’s lips were back on it.

“Yes!!!! Yes, make me cum, make me cum, Unhhhhh fuck,” Milana was frozen but her stiff body didn’t stop Erik from licking up every single drop. When he lifted his face from between her legs, he was glazed from the oil and her juices.

“I think it’s time for me to massage that pussy with this dick don’t you think? Get up and go to the couch now,” Erik didn’t wait for Milana to answer his question. His fat dick was in his hand and he jerked it with a desperation to finally dig deep in Milana’s guts. Milana sat down on the couch causing Erik to kiss his teeth and slap her right thigh.

“Turn over,” It was a request that needed to be fulfilled with how deep his voice was. Milana was on her belly again, Erik’s hands landing on her ass with two rounds of rough slaps that stung her flesh, “Daddy’s got your back baby, lift this ass up.”

Milana carefully positioned herself with her thighs nice and wide and her face resting against the suede cushion of her sofa.

Mhmmmm,” Erik tapped his dick on Milana’s pussy before grabbing a handful of her ass, pushing himself inside. Even with the amount of lubrication Erik’s dick still expanded Milana’s pussy past limits she wasn’t used to. Sure, she’s taken long dicks before but long and fat? That’s a different story.

“Is this dick up in your guts?”

Milana rapidly nods her head the more Erik pushed. Milana had her doubts that Erik was going to fit but he proved her wrong. Erik’s entire shaft fit perfectly inside of Milana’s pussy like a puzzle piece. His hands stroked her oily skin from her twin globes all the way down her arched back and back up to her hips. Gliding in and out of her pussy, Erik can feel Milana reaching back to grab his wrists.

“If you think I’m about to fuck you with half of this dick because you can’t take it you got me fucked up,” Erik slaps Milana’s hand away a few times before she decided to loop her arm around his, “Nah take this punishment from daddy.”

“Fuck me just like that,” Milana moaned.

“Fuck you just like that? Oh, now you want this dick?”

“Yes. I need that big fucking dick.”

“This big dick right here?” Erik’s hips smacking against Milana’s ass was vivid in her ears, “All up in this puss with my dick…keep that fucking arch Milana I’m taking this pussy.”

Erik started off with that rough sex, straight giving it to Milana. As much as she cried she was taking that long dick. It felt so good that the feeling of his dick applying pressure to her stomach was worth it. He was pounding Milana out like he had pinned up tension towards her. It was as if he wanted to leave her pussy shaking. He was punishing her for sure, Milana couldn’t even look back over her shoulder at him. He was making her take responsibility for her actions——teasing him on webcam.

“I’m pounding this tight little pussy...pussy getting dealt with right?”

“Unh,” She couldn’t only moan.

“Talk to me, oooh this pussy wet wet…beating this wet shit up baby…come on, open your fucking mouth...tell daddy how much you love this dick.”

“I love this big dick,” Milana exhales when Erik slows down to stroke her at a moderate pace. Slowing down made Milana feel just how much dick she was taking. Erik would pull out all the way to the tip of his dick then push all the way in down to the base. Milana could feel the urge to squirt and she really didn’t want to do it on her new couch but it was too late. As soon as Erik’s wide tip hit the bottom of her pussy, Milana was squirting on her couch.

“Got my dick extra messy with this pussy...I needed to fuck you so bad shit ain’t even funny,” Erik slaps her ass, “Make it rain baby, yessss,” Milana was squirting again, and Erik increased the speed of his hips, “pussy so fucking good girl.”

“Umph!!! Unh!!!!!” Milana was whimpering into the couch, “Erik, please, I’m about to cum!!!!”

“Fuckkkk!!!” Erik’s jaw clenched from Milana’s grip, “Nasty Bitch taking all this dick you better cum like a good little slut, Milana.”

Milana did exactly as she was told and made even more of a mess beneath her. Erik starts slapping her ass cheeks around with his dick still buried inside of her.

“You ready for me to get in that ass?”

“Uh-huh,” Milana’s eyes rolled shut when Erik’s dick left her quivering pussy. He didn’t bother to tell her to clean off his dick with her tongue because he wanted to use as much lubrication as possible to fuck her in the ass.

“Let’s take this shit to your bed, it’ll be better,” Erik picks Milana up from the couch and carries her towards the direction that she pointed to. The infamous room of Milana Rose. That signature heart shaped bed. Erik lays Milana on the bed while he is on top of her. They both share an intense kissing session with a whole lot of tongue and spit.

“Come on, girl, bring your legs up,” Erik whispered.

Milana’s knees are against her chest for Erik to do whatever he wants. Standing from the bed, Erik positioned Milana on the edge so he could have the perfect angle. That asshole is...Erik couldn’t even form words. Dick still wet and Milana’s ass nice and oiled up, Erik bends his knees slightly before planting one hand on the bed while the other grabbed his dick, bringing it to her ass and then with a slow, easy stroke, Erik started pushing and Milana was so nervous that her asshole clenched up.

“You gotta relax if you want me to get in that ass, Milana. It’s okay baby...you’ll love it...I know you will...you’re a nasty slut…” Erik tried again, pushing enough to get the tip of his dick in, “mmmmm, you just might make me cum and I ain’t even have this ass the way I wanted to yet.”

“Daddy it hurts,” Milana pushed at Erik’s abs.

“Hold on I got a little bit more for you...it’s almost in there I promise,” despite her cries, Erik finally conquered the tightest hole he ever fucked.

“Ima pull out a little bit,” Erik withdrew his hips, “Fuckkkkkkk,” Erik pushed back in, “I should be balls deep but you acting like you can’t take this dick.”

“It’s too big in my ass,” Milana’s mouth grew wide with shock, “Oh my God it’s in my ass…”

“Milana, stop clenching up,” Erik spoke through clenched teeth, “If you relax I can open this ass up how I want…”

Erik pushes and pushes with his hips. So tight it felt like Milana was trying to squeeze his dick like a tube, “I’m already in there, baby, just take this dick,” Erik’s hands are resting on either side of Milana’s head. She was loosening up for him and her cries of pain turned into soft sighs. Her phat pussy sitting right above her ass needed to be filled too so Erik takes three fingers to finger fuck her.

“Oooh, shit,” Milana eyes rolled back, her body shaking with only half of Erik’s dick in her, “That big dick looks so good in my ass…”

“Grab my dick and push it in this ass.”

Milana sat up on her left elbow with her other hand reaching between her thighs to grab Erik’s dick. When her hand wrapped around his shaft she couldn’t believe how much of him was left. Adjusting her hips Milana forced Erik’s dick in.

“Take your time to ease it in, I’ll wait,” Erik’s fingers twisted and twirled in Milana’s pussy, “There you go baby, there you go,” Erik moves her hands out of the way, “Hold your cheeks open…” moving his hips, Erik started digging Milana’s ass out.

“I’m laying this pipe all in your ass-“

“Yesssssss,” Milana really thought she would be able to handle the way he was fucking her but her hands on his thighs pushing him proved to Erik that she wasn’t ready. He didn’t give a fuck, Milana knew what it was from the beginning.

“Next time, I’m tying your fucking hands down, you can’t take it but you’re moaning while I’m stuffing this ass,” Erik’s fingers rapidly stroked Milana’s pussy, “That's it, spread your cheeks slut and look at this hard dick sliding in and out of your tight little asshole.”

Milana’s eyes connected with Erik’s dick, “Unh, fuck.”

“You’re a good girl?” His dick started hitting her ass faster.

“I’m a good girl-yes, get it baby.”

“THAT'S what i'm talking about,” Erik could finally go at the pace that he wanted, “Train me daddy, fuck,” Milana’s ass started creaming Erik’s dick, “I’m a good girl I’ll take it in the ass.”

“Damn, girl…” Erik chewed on his plump bottom lip.

“Let me show you I’m a good girl,” Milana gripped her sheets and started moving her hips to meet Erik’s strokes. Just minutes ago she was crying about how it hurt and now she is accepting Erik’s fat dick in her ass.

“Oh yeah? Put that work in for daddy,” Erik’s fingers alternated between rubbing Milana’s clit and fingering her pussy.

“Yes, daddy,” Milana’s face frowned with ecstasy, “Unh, fuckkkk,” Milana started squirting.

“Yeah, you’re a good girl, keep squirting, come on,” Erik pushes Milana’s thighs back and pounded her ass. Milana’s hips kept moving and Erik was growing frustrated. Slapping her ass, Erik’s fingers squeezed Milana’s legs harshly and his nails were digging into her skin. He really loved her ass. Milana scratched his abs and slapped his chest. He was getting balls deep in her ass, growling in her ear, biting her neck, and gripping her thighs.

“If you keep it up daddy will fill this ass up with my fat nut,” Erik whispered in her ear. The squishing sound of his big dick pistoning into her ass as he rocked her body brought him to the brink of climax just as Milana reached hers.

“This big ass dick got me squirting…UMMMMMMMPH! FUUUUUCK,” Milana pushed that squirt out her pussy and it stained Erik’s dick and thighs. The dick was buried in her ass and yet her pussy still reacted to it. Erik quieted Milana with his lips. He swallowed her cries and pushed himself in deeper to make his balls slap her ass. Unable to hold back any longer, Erik pushed himself all the way in and held it there. Dick pulsating, Erik’s thick cum filled Milana’s ass. Her warm hole drained him dry like she was sucking the life force out of him. Erik couldn’t speak, all he could do was sweat all over her and kiss her lips and face. Pussy a creamy mess, ass filled to the brim with Erik’s cum. Lifting his sticky body from hers, Erik kissed a trail down Milana’s body before his thick lips found her pussy. He used the suction of his lips to clean off her pussy.

“You still want that free massage? I’m there all next week.”

Eyes like stars, Milana gives Erik a tired smile with her hand stroking his goatee. It felt so good and so right in his arms and this was her first time with Erik; to accept the adoration that was being given to her. Milana was very certain that Erik has other women waiting in line for the opportunity to have him. What transpired between them has Milana anticipating future sex. If only.

“How does next Friday sound?”

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara@honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta @seyven89 @lahuttor @janelledarling @shewritestheblues @fanfangal @kreolemami @thoughtsoftheantagonist @luvwitoutlimit1 @mygirlrenee @hippiesandpeacesigns @alittlejd @jaysaidhi @chaneajoyyy @walkrightuptothesun @shawnstacksss @theesotericqueen @mareethequeen @browngirldominion @ceeverse @therealmrsrhodes @sensitivelegend @teheeboo @yomiloo @msreshel @bbygirrll05 @fahi0nanart @afteracouplepuffss @shaelyn102 @yaminax-kuss-a @lackbbaby @amyhennessyhouse @thattruckinwitch @dameshaemonique @glittermakesmesmile @justgetitoverwith0 @notavintagecliche @pariahcolored @cydneyrenee4 @ajjiiaaahhhh @naeelyniecee @ambthegamer @efonteno @mikesteel20 @wisenerdcreator @draggingstxns @eevolsidog @xoxomyaah @asweet-serendipity @therealmrsmbjordan @ajspencer1892 @queengodiva619 @niqui87 @quietpoeticheart @itsjustyazz @dasia21 @woah-express @bbgiirrll @backandbetter2 @megabriahall @forbeautyandlife @queenflaws @cecereads209 @queenbetter @yomiloo @daddys-baby-girl-t @lovinthemelanin @ladymac82 @ambitionwood @t3mporaa @toniilaney @iv0rysoap @sinfully-dope @lovehatecritique @chocolategirl605 @naysianaee @nyleveeee @erlebnissebliss @melinaasap1 @woahthatshitfat @that-chick212 @scarypumkin23 @sambuckyslayallday @vikki240401 @kuaua98 @enigmadivine @gingerylimonte @counterfeit-recherche @unholyxcumbucket @xdezaraex @missgigglesmoultrie @imrootingforeveryoneblack @dashhoney25 @oversorry @abluesforlyssa @honeybeejaes @admirehermind @wassuduoo @kaykay0829 @woahitslucyylu

#killmonger imagine #killmonger smut #killmonger x oc #nahimjustfeelingit writes

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lordkambe · 4 years

Text

🎠 title, type, word count: mister president, one-shot, +2k

🎠 character, fandom, type of reader: fukuzawa yukichi, bungou stray dogs, woman reader

🎠 genre, rating: nsfw, 18+ only

🎠 themes, triggers: oral ( f receiving ), intense fingering, explicit descriptions

🎠 brief summary: y/n is an employee at the agency. after being caught in the rain, fukuzawa invites y/n to his place. things heat up. p*rn without a plot tbh.

🎠 author’s note: i am once again yearning about meeting fukuzawa in the rain. this short little one-shot is inspired by an r18 asmr i heard a couple of days ago. i hope you enjoy it ~

the rain was heavy, unrelenting but more importantly unexpected. nevertheless you persevered and were hellbent on returning home. the only thing protecting you from the rain was your coat and the bookbag above your head. your feet pressed against the pavement causing the puddles underneath you to splash.

"y/n."

you turned at the sound of the voice from behind you. underneath the large brim of the umbrella the figure held was fukuzawa, your boss. you'd been working at the agency for a few months alongside naomi and haruno. without much responsibility to your job you didn't expect the president to remember you by name.

you turned to him and bowed in respect. he stepped closer to you the brim of his umbrella now shielding you from the rain. frozen you stood there only inches away from the older gentleman. looking directly at his chest you felt his eyes looking down at you.

"how far is your home?"

tucking the strands of your wet hair behind your ears you looked up at him and responded. "i have to catch the train to get home, i live by the docks."

fukuzawa looked at the horizon.

"that won't do." he said in a low tone. "we can go to my place."

you nearly choked and were quick to thank him for his kindness but you couldn't possibly accept his offer. "mister president, i don't -- i'm thankful but i don't think i should."

"i insist."

now you couldn't resist but to take him up on his offer. you stood closely to his frame as he escorted you to his home. on the way there you stole glances to look up at him. he asked you about your day, how you liked the agency. you'd never heard him speak beyond a few words before but somehow the security he provided you felt like that didn't matter.

within a few blocks the two of you finally found refuge in his home. you watched him trade his shoes for his house slippers and he offered you a pair as well. you stood near the door holding the book bag in front of you unsure of what to do.

"if i knew this were the case, i would've brought something."

"don't be silly." fukuzawa assured you. "there's no need, you can go ahead and take a shower. i'll lend you some clothes."

you nodded your head and entered the bathroom. undressed and now in the shower the warm water fell across your body rinsing away the cold sensation from the rain. underneath the water you stood there and thought for a moment about where you were. you couldn't believe what was happening.

the admiration you had for fukuzawa extended beyond past admiring him as the president of the agency. it was a puppy crush you thought but after the kindness he showed you today it made you fall deeper into your possible delusions. you finally exited the shower and dressed in the clothes he'd given you.

it was a dress shirt that went a little past your knees. he'd offered you a pair of sweatpants as well but considered the shirt fit you like a dress, you opted to not wear the pants. you exited the shower running your hands through your wet hair as you did. "president?" you called out.

you walked into the kitchen where fukuzawa was preparing tea. he stopped to look at you.

"where are your pants?" he asked with his cheeks flushed.

"i-, oh. the shirt fits me like a dress so..."

"fits me like a dress?" he repeated softly.

"what?"

"oh... nothing, i was talking to myself." he cleared his throat and looked down at the tea cups on the table in front of him. he was flustered and you played dumb.

you walked past the table and stood a few inches away from him. as you did the rain outside was furious causing the lights to flicker off. the sudden darkness startled you and instinctively you wrapped your hands around fukuzawa's arm. you pressed your figure close against his and hid your face in his arm.

you feel his figure tighten but he doesn't mention it.

"you're trembling." he decided to note.

you want to let go but you can't seem to bring yourself to. the lights flicker on once more and when they do your hands loosen. you let go and looked away in embarrassment.

"cute." you swore you heard him say it.

"y/n?" he asked and you turned around.

fukuzawa stepped closer to you and the space between you two laced together. with wide eyes you looked up at him mesmerized by his delicate features. caught up in the moment you rise to your toes and join your lips with his. your fingers tugged the fabric of his robe as you loosened into his touch, and him into yours.

your lips parted from his but the closeness between the two of you remained. he looked down at you and tucked a strand of hair away from your cheek.

“nobody at the agency can know about this.” he told you sternly.

“yes, mister president.”

your lips meet again with such haste. his kissed you passionately and it felt like heaven. both of your lips parted open and your tongues began to wrestle. he pressed your figure against the wall behind you.

“i’ve always admired you.” you admitted between labored breaths.

“as have i...you know how you make me feel when i see you at the agency y/n?”

he doesn’t give you time to answer his lips are attached to yours.

“you look... so cute. i have to restrain myself.”

“a man like you has to restrain himself?” you managed to whine out. you felt his length harden against your thigh and the knot in your stomach tightened. you felt the warmth between your legs grow warmer and warmer with each kiss he gave you.

he responded with a mumble you could barely make out. he was occupied with giving you with kisses you took it a step further and grinded your hips against his. it earned a soft gasp to leave fukuzawa’s mouth. he parted from you and traced his thumb under your lip.

“such a bad girl.” he teased.

“then maybe you should teach me a lesson, mister president.”

he lifted you from your feet and you let out an excited giggle. now in his bedroom he placed you on the bed. you laid back with your arms sprawled but your legs pressed together. he stood at the end of the bed looking at you.

“bad girls need to be taught to be good, no?” it was a question but his tone implied it to be rhetorical. you watched him remove his robe and begin to undress. his figure underneath was revealed and it was everything you hoped and more.

his gently tanned skin complimented his toned physique. his figure was slim but the outline of his muscles provided him with a masculine figure. you noticed the multiple scars littered around his body. stories for another time you mentally noted.

he clicked his tongue. “seconds ago you were grinding against me. making soft lewd noises while you did. now you choose to lay there with your legs closed?”

his eyes had changed. they were filled with lust and eagerness. the adrenaline surged through your veins and you felt your petals throb.

“open your legs.” it was a demand.

without time to spare you opened your knees parted and you opened your legs. you revealed the wet spot on your panties to him. it caused you to blush in embarrassment. you heard fukuzawa chuckle he stepped closer and knelt down to earn a clearer view. the bed underneath you dipped when fukuzawa pressed his chest against the mattress. you bit down on your lower lip as excitement grew within you. you wanted him and he wasn’t making it easy for you.

he held your thigh and pressed his lips against it. the action elicited a delicate moan from you. the trail of kisses led closer and closer to where you needed him most but instead of meeting that spot with his lips, you felt the tip of his finger.

it was gentle against your heat and the room was quiet.

“please?” you gently muttered out. your sheepishness caused fukuzawa to chuckle.

“please?” he mocked. “do you want me to fuck you?” he asked rather bluntly.

“huh?” he added while increasing the pressure on your clothed clit. he got on top of you and you looked up at him. his wide frame consumed you, you took your hand and pressed it against his chest.

“please...” you cry out again. “fuck me” you add with a lewd moan.

with his eyes till on you his hand pushed your panties to the side. the cool air flushed against your wet pussy causing a small shiver to run up your spin. he placed his middle finger inside you and just that one finger forced a loud, lewd moan to escape from your lips.

“it’s just one finger.” he teased.

then he added another. he began to move them in and out of you in unreliable patterns. the scattered rhythm of his movements made you twitch.

“your already clenching around my fingers. do you want it that bad, princess?”

it was his words, his actions, the fucking pet name that drove you crazy. you threw your head back against the mattress and twisted the fabric underneath you. your back arched upward --- craving every inch of his touch even if it was just his fingers.

“i asked you a question, do you want it that bad?”

“y-yes.” you embarrassingly cried out.

he stopped his movements and you whined. “yes, who?” he asked.

“mister president, yes mister president. please!”

instead of a verbal confirmation fukuzawa lowered his face against your throbbing, wet pussy. he started with a gentle kiss before penetrating your lips with his tongue. the sound you made ripped from your chest. you were loud and he loved every moment of it.

his tongue ran up and down your slit before focusing on your clit. he used his middle finger to continue to finger you. the gushing noises from your pussy alone embarrassed you but fukuzawa seemed to enjoy it. your hands let go of the sheets and fell atop of his head. your fingers crawled through the locks of his grey hair. you had to restrain yourself from griding against his face.

as if he read your mind fukuzawa pressed your hips down further onto the mattress with one hand alone. the other hand had it’s middle finger thrusting in and out of you at an intense speed. the sensation mixed with his tongue sucking your clit drove you insane. you were close and he could sense it.

he removed his mouth from your clit and replaced it with his thumb. running circles around the sensitive bud you almost choked at how good it felt. his tongue now lapped around your nipple before finally looked at you.

your lips met in a haste.

“i want to see that pretty face cum for me.”

“from just my fingers.”

“cum for me princess. cum.” you nodded your head beads of sweat fell down your forehead. you were shaking underneath him. under his command. you grabbed his wrist feeling the knot in your stomach tightening at an incredible speed. bursts of adrenaline and pleasure were rising in your dripping pussy.

he asked you again, “cum.”

“i’m gonna -- i’m cu--cumming!” your face contorted to match your ecstasy. the moan that escaped from your chest was loud and echoed throughout the bedroom. you came and while fukuzawa stopped with his motions his fingers were still inside you. he pulled them out shortly afterwards the emptiness caused you to sigh in pleasure.

his fingers were sticky with your juices. “such a good girl you are.” he praised. “but you made such a mess.”

fukuzawa instructed you to open your mouth and you did. he placed his fingers in your mouth and you licked them clean. he was in awe at the sight of you. “good girl” he praised once more.

“now.” he said before kissing you. “can you handle a little more, princess?”

you swallowed hard and nodded.

“yes, mister president.”

#fukuzawa x reader #bsd x reader #bsd fukuzawa #bsd smut #president fukuzawa #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd.#tm.#fy.#nsfw.

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Two chapters over the weekend because I was ✨ inspired ✨ and my neighbors can't stop fucking (noisily!) and I'm,,, envious.

Strange adventures in Hell. There are descriptions of desperation and doom, lots of magic and - hear me out - forced/reluctant hand holding 😌 Oh my God, they held hands!!!

"What. Were. You. Thinking?!" Strange was seething, his enormous figure and broader height towered over me, the blood-red of his cape vibrating, the only spleck of colour in the grey and dusty dark world.

"I had no choice in the matter," I replied as calmly as I managed, gritting my teeth, memories of our past stand-off fresh in my mind. We could have bickered until the end, until one of the beasts flying overhead spotted us and decorated the bleary grounds of this forsaken planet with the crimsons of our life blood. "I think it's best if we get to safety first, argue later. I have no desire to become somebody's lunch."

That much was true: I had taken a good look at our surroundings as soon as I recovered from the vacuum-like sensation of being pulled into a magical gateway; the visibility was terrible, the planet's natural light very scarce. Several suns were hardly visible in the sky, their rays barely penetrating the mists and the ashes freely floating in the air.

There was oxygen even if breathing in a full lungful seemed impossible; I tried not to think about the contents of the air, or the possibility of radiation poisoning, as the multiple amulets and charms seared into my skin where they rested under my clothes. I had four bottles of water, some bandages and salves and a sacrifice for a single ritual to my name and absolutely no conviction that Mother Earth would be able to hear the call of an earthling gone so astray.

But it was hope, so I held on.

"Fine," Stephen sighed, suddenly looking tired and weary, glancing around with furrowed brows. "Let's see if I can open a portal," his hands did that complicated set of gestures that I'd grown to associate with a golden circle and sparks on the ground. The thing flickered, once, twice, before disappearing, as if the Sorcerer's magic had run out of batteries. "Yeah, I thought so," he whispered to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"The bad news first, please," I interpreted his hesitation with a realistic outlook on our predicament.

"I can't open a portal just anywhere on this planet. We need to find a... Rift, of sorts," the man was anxiously looking around. "And those things, they'll smell us... Right about now," his eyes shot up at a winged, rapidly approaching shadow. "No good news, I'm afraid."

I allowed myself a small sigh of disappointment, keeping a tight leash on the panic slowly creeping up my body. The feeling of determination, the power of Gaia within me was still present, laying in a cozy dormant ball slightly south of my solar plexus. "Give me your hand, please," I reached out to Stephen only for him to promptly recoil.

"You should've thought about the consequences of your actions, I'm not going to hold your hand because you're scared shitless," his words were sharp but they lacked the venom. He wouldn't, or couldn't, meet my eyes.

"I know you have scarred hands. I'm a healer and you don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed I, I've seen worse," I stated in my best 'mutant nurse' voice as Stephen's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. "Those things can't sense me. And I know they won't be able to sense you too if we have skin-to-skin contact. So unless you want me to get under your... Robes," I gestured to the layers upon layers of clothing he had wrapped himself in. I considered the possibility of his whole body being covered in scars, too, and couldn't help the pang of sympathy. "Take one glove off and give me your damn hand before this trip to Jurassic Park goes full pterodactyl massacre!"

I saw the thing in the sky open it's mouth - but no sound came out, the clouds reducing it's outline to a vaguely triangular shadow. There was something very unusual about this planet's atmosphere.

With a couple of jerky movements, Stephen slid off the glove from his left hand, looking away as his large, dry, warm palm encompassed mine in a gentle, trembling grip. It made no sense to interlace our fingers, so I help onto him like a child holds onto their parent; the size difference of our hands and his imposing aura surely made me feel like one.

We stood a foot apart, watching the shadow in the sky begin to circle the place we stood in, it's gaping maw opening again and again, before it zigzagged across the sky with a strong dash of confusion, it's graceful glide becoming a series of rapid turns and twists. With a final inaudible shriek, it flew off into the dusty greys of the horizon, becoming a dark spot far away in mere seconds.

The silence was so loud in this world. Like the eerie stillness of my, undoubtedly haunted, apartment, I was eager to dissipate it with something beyond our combined heavy breathing. "Please don't tell Tony," I timidly gave our touching hands a sway. "He'll never leave it alone."

A chuffing noise coming from above had me whip my head up to see Stephen holding in a puff of nervous laughter; his shoulders dropped slightly as he eyed me in turn. "What makes you think I won't tease you about it?"

"You wouldn't dare," I took mock offense, rising my leaking nose to the skies.

The grumble and the eyeroll I expected, the smirk that faded into a ghost of a smile I did not. "We should go. Usually there is a rift within a few miles of every location everywhere," he tried to keep the content expression as he spoke but the storm in his eyes betrayed his concern. They were so blue, I felt like I was drowning.

I let myself to be tugged in a direction - everything seemed exactly the same, a never-ending ashen wasteland with the occasional dark grey rock that crumbled to dust as soon as the heel of my shoe touched it. My light blue sweater quickly became the colour of rotten wood, a sickly, dull monotone between brown and gray.

The complete lack of any kind of natural noise brought out the desolation of this wretched place; if we gripped each other's hands tighter, neither of us chose to acknowledge it. It was too easy to get lost in your own mind when the surroundings were dead set on rebuking anything that was in any shape or form alive.

I caught myself thinking that this must be what people think Hell should look like.

Strange walked briskly for the most part, periodically clearing his throat and eyeing me when I struggled to keep up with his long strides. It could have been an hour, or maybe two, of aimless wandering and rapidly imploding portals accompanied by Stephen's increasingly overcast face before I made the man stop and offered him a water bottle, which he insisted we split between us two.

It didn't take me a tarot reading to figure out our chances were grim. Needless, I gave him the same look I give to injured, scared mutant children when they come to the bodega for the first time; a look of quiet temperance.

And then we walked, and walked again, as Stephen grew moodier and moodier, marching on with the force of a seasoned soldier, only taking breaks when I forced him to stand still and breathe with me. As cautious and closed-off as he was, I pressed onto the fact of me being a healer of sorts, and he relented if briefly, always reluctant, always seasoned by a great dose of bewilderment.

"Do you feel that?" Stephen's stride halted, both feet firmly planted on the ground.

The ground had tremors had coming from deep within, small shocks that could have been easily missed if not for the complete lack of sound on this world. My nod was mute, I didn't trust my voice not to break when I clearly knew there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, endless fields of nothing all around us.

"Hold onto me," promptly, I was grabbed and pushed into his chest, his long arms easily picking me up, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. "Hold tight, I might need my hands," my face grew hot as I wound my arms around Stephen's neck, clinging to him like a monkey, a palm resting on the soft fine hairs if his nape. It felt too intimate somehow, in the wake of imminent danger.

The Cape that previously swayed behind him in rhythm with his steps billowed, the red fabric of it tough as it levitated us a few feet above the ground. I felt Stephen tense with each tremor; within moments, the surface shook and stuttered more and more, cracks appearing in between the dust, turning the plains into a marble-patterned patch of darkness.

We rose above it, high enough that I could see the veins resulting from the quake stretch far out into the wasteland, jagged, abrupt lines of even more concentrated darkness. And as quickly as the quake started, it was over, leaving little evidence as the ground settled.

Stephen floated us to a larger patch of the ground, criss-crossed with thinner, less prominent lines, poking the ground with his foot before allowing it to fully bear our weight. He was shaken, there was no doubt. "That was... Something," he stated lowly.

"Mhm," I hummed, fighting the urge to frantically look around, forcing my hand from clutching at his palm like a lifeline. I had decided on a plan while I was busy playing baby koala - not that there were many other options except to wander these god forsaken bare badlands until our painful demise. "Listen, Strange, I'm aware you don't hold my people in particularly high regard but you're going to have to trust me on this," my words came out derisive as I placed his palm on the back of my neck and kneeled, forcing him to do the same behind me.

The contents of my bag greeted me grimly with out last bottle of water and the couple knick-knacks that gathered the black dust on them. I hastily poured the water into a bowl, dipping my fingers in it, and added the crushed bones to the mixture.

The time that was required to make a paste-like mixture, I used to address a bewildered Stephen. "This is a last resort. I don't know if it will work, we're not on Earth," I briefly breathed my distress. "I don't even know how far we are from home. But I refuse to die here, in this grotesque Hell, without putting up a fight and Gaia has always looked out for her flock. I might get very, very sick if this is successful."

The warning had him attempt to object before he cast a long look around us, shoulders sagging, as motioned for me to continue, those piercing blue eyes boring into my face. "Tell me what do I need to do," his voice quietly attempted to soothe my very obvious fear.

I was terrified, both of dying, nameless, faceles in this world full of Nothing; the prospect of withering away after depleting all my resources was, perhaps, equally unappealing, but dying on my home planet sounded better than dying here. "Have faith," I replied curtly, beginning to chant softly under my breath as soon as Stephen's expression hardened.

My eyelids grew heavy, limbs filling with lead and molten lava as I summoned the forces of Mother itself; my body was aching, exhausted by answering her call as it was. The warm ball in my chest that previously comforted me grew, spreading its smelten power through every vein, every vessel. No part of my body was left cold. A sense of purpose filled me, pushing me forward, driving me to move, to run, to leap.

"This way," even to my own ears, my voice sounded pained. It felt as if I was walking through swamp waters, full of clay and debris, each step taking my barely coherent form through an individual bog full of pins and needles. The force of Mother Nature burned inside of me, enraged at the state of her surroundings.

Stephen spoke to me but all I could hear was mumbling, thousands of voices, low and shrill, unintelligible to the human mind. I could feel the sorcerer's pain; the itch and burn in his throat, the constant, dull throb in his scarred, broken hands. His hand in mine only intensified the situation and I fought with his injuries like I fought with the black dots in my eyes, I forced down the unpleasant sensations, setting fire to them, letting the reigns of control on the raging inferno within me slip just the smallest, tiniest bit.

The steps of his long feet stuttered as I felt the discomfort lessen yet I simply towed him along. Time leaked through the cracks in my eyes, which were mostly unseeing anyways. The useless things grew blind at some point, not that I noticed it on the greys and blacks of the surrounding scenery. It was harder to walk, my breathing grew laboured with the extertion as we finally reached the place that felt right.

"Here," I rasped, voice so quiet it could have been mistaken for a breeze. I craved to feel it; the soft puffs of wind, the sound of running water. I had called for Earth and she demanded its child back.

The portal appeared without a stutter even though Stephen's hands shook; I saw the uneven channels, the energies traveling through them at an uneven pace. As soon as I pushed through the wormhole, coming to my senses in an unfamiliar, light room, I fell to my knees.

Stephen's pained moaning told me he was probably experiencing the same stinging, burning sensation on his skin; my eyes, they were the worst - my eyeballs felt like they were melting, leaking out of my sockets into thick, gelatinous tears streaming down my face. I blindly groped for the sorcerer's hand, directing the forces within me to soothe his hurts much like I had done in the wastelands.

"Strange?!" A masculine, shocked voice exclaimed before footsteps crashed into my sensitive ears with the force of an elephant herd. "Oh my God, they're here! Tony, come!"

"Stop fucking screaming," Stephen gasped out as I felt him curl into himself.

"Friday, scan them," I recognised Tony's voice, the tiredness and desperation standing out in it more than it did in the rest of the whispers in the room.

"They appear to be experiencing a sensory overload. I would recommend to engage Peter's Cooldown mode," the mechanical voice replied, barely audible. The noise still grated on my ears after spending... How long were we gone?

"Do it, Fri," Tony's soft footsteps reached us; I smelled the spices of his cologne next to my and Stephen's prone forms. "You gave us a scare there," the tone was admonishing but gentle.

"We were scared shitless ourselves," I attempted to speak, only now noticing how grating my voice sounded. "We were in Hell," I mumbled to myself, slowly removing my hand from Stephen.

"That," he coughed up the word, breathing through his nose before speaking again, his voice sounding much better than mine. "That place was as close as possible to biblical pits I have ever seen," there was shuffling and gentle murmurs as the two men ensured each other of their presence and well-being.

The burning sensations receded back to my core, the embers of the fires dying out, leaving me feeling like deflated beach ball, all shell and no filling. With a groan, I rolled over onto my back right in the middle of the pristine carpet on the floor, forcing my eyes open and breathing through the pain until I could somewhat see the champagne coloured ceiling without black dots obstructing my vision.

Shuffling noises reached my ears as a familiar round face with light red hair came into my line of sight, Wanda's gentle features concerned. "Star, do you need to go to medical?" She eyed me almost suspiciously but the question was earnest.

The idea of a doctor fixing a magical burnout was bizarre to me, as if it ever was that easy; I chortled sardonically. "No, Wanda, there's nothing wrong with me that a doctor would be able to fix," I replied honestly. "I should call Odette."

"I've called, she said to notify her when you return," Sam's voice was gentle as he approached. I could feel him glaring daggers at a rapidly reddening Wanda. "She was the one who said you'll definitely come back," he offered me his hand.

I had to choke down a moan of relief as I grabbed it. The warmth, the life of another human being, the precious gift of a beating pulse under my fingertips was divine. "You should listen to her. She knows her stuff." It was easy, talking to Sam as if he was an old friend. He had one of the most pleasant auras I've seen on a human being.

"I'm a doctor," Stephen suddenly perched up, sounding almost bashful. "And I can aid the healing process," he stated over Tony's disgruntled mumbling. "If you can explain to me how the hell you managed to hold a... an entire sun's worth of energy!" The more he spoke the more bewildered he became, tone growing in pitch, ending the sentence with an exclamation.

"I don't know," I replied with a sigh. The whole indignation in this man, I was not prepared to face. "When I took this up," I gestured vaguely to the burned, bent metal adornments I began to remove off my body. "I thought I was going to get an increase in tips and a better outlook on life. Help my friend with her asthma as much so she wouldn't have to use her inhaler every time she gets suprised or scared," my jewelry hit the floor with a dull clank, piling up into bent silver I wouldn't even be able to cleanse and repurpose.

Sam whistled lowly, poking at a necklace that had twisted on itself, a grotesque spiral of dull ashen grey.

"I certainly didn't think that a bleeding mutant accepting his fate as cannon fodder will call for the Earth itself," my tone grew vicious. Exhaustion was nesting in my bones. "And that Mother Nature would take over my body, pour lava into my veins and bleed recklessness into my thoughts. But here I am, freshly out of Hell and alive and kicking."

A stunned silence was interrupted by Tony's frantic whispering. "You are not leaving my penthouse for the foreseeable future," as the weight of the incident set on him. The knuckles of his hand clutching Stephen's dirty tunic turned white.

"I am," Stephen eyed me with a strange look in his eye, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His eyes then turned to Tony, who'd began rambling, arguing with Stephen. The sorcerer stopped the word vomit with a grim confession. "I'd be dead if not for Starlight. I'd be meat and bone, splattered across a barren, radioactive land in the deepest, darkest pits of the universe."

I felt my face droop in slow-motion. My throat flexed, swallowing a thick lump of filthy mucus, I coughed up, "Ra-radioctive?" As soon as I could work my voice without it squeaking.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #im zoomin with a bag full of creepy

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inb4belphienaps · 3 years

Text

Torschlusspanik

“How old are you really?”

Truthfully, he doesn’t know. A part of him wishes he’d kept track but it’s a hassle when all your time and energy is spent on far greater things.

If he were to think back on it, his age would probably be defined by the people he’d met and grown to love along the way. His friends and acquaintances and the ones who had been very dear to him.

He can see them all in his mind. Their faces and voices blending into one as he recalls stories and conversations and wonderful ideas they’d exchanged. Time hadn’t been kind to them. Not as kind as it should have been at least. They’d been ravaged. He’d seen them fade, trapped in their own minds, seen them driven to extinction by the search for power.

Yes, it was a funny thing – power. Those blessed with it tend to be quite satisfied with their lives, finding meaning in even the littlest things. Those who wish to obtain it are instead turned to madness, whether along the journey or at the end, when they realize that satisfaction is but a nonsensical concept invented for the weak.

Solomon isn’t sure where he fits in. He’d been blessed with a natural talent, gifts of magical aptitude that could leave many speechless. He’d also obtained his current abilities through years of searching and wondering and finding. New lands, new discoveries, new predicaments. They had been so fascinating, so enveloping at first. He could be seen positively enraptured in the world and all that it had to offer him. So many things it had to offer.

His appetite never wavered. With each dawn, another quest, another trip into the unknown. With each twilight, another question, another problem to be solved.

Luckily, he wasn’t always alone. One particular name stands out. Frankenstein. A handsome and invigorating man with an attitude that did little to soothe him.

Frankenstein had dazzled him with his wit and courage and…lack for better word, insanity. As brilliant as he was, the man had had several screws loose. That didn’t make him any less charming or passionate. In fact, some say it may have helped.

Buried in books and beakers, he never sat still. At some point, they’d convinced themselves that they held the universe in their hands. Just them two. Gods, he’d said.

Why then did he disappear?

He wasn’t dead, no. He wasn’t the type to do something like that. In his heart, Solomon knows that he’s still out there, eyes glinting in the moonlight. He knows that Frankenstein is fighting a battle with himself. Disregarding the other soul residing in him, he knows that there is doubt in that very human body of his. Impulsivity can only do so much in the face of doubt and hesitation.

How old would he be now?

Would they recognize each other? Or would they be strangers once more? Deformed and beaten by the growing passage of time? He thinks that would be more likely. The soul isn’t immune. Although the vessel may appear pristine and well-kept, the soul, however fractured it may be, will show bits and pieces of itself within the mirage.

There is no hiding those marks. Which is why he prefers to have his vessel reflect them. To a more conservative degree, definitely, yet to a degree all the same. The scars and patterns on his skin are littered with meaning. Self-inflicted pain describing moments in his life that he cannot forget. Mistakes and triumphs. Ecstasy and over-indulgence. Sorrow and regret. Trials and tribulations aplenty.

A few close calls. Brushes with death that in hindsight seem impossible. How had he survived them? He may forget…

Except when the night is blanketed in silence, or when the tide creeps in away from the morning sun, he is reminded of the terror. Flashes of light, effervescent, and a scream. Perhaps his own. The brain, as he so often finds, cannot be fooled. Deep within the entanglement of your subconscious and conscious, there is no trickery. No illusions to hide behind or whimsical acts of surrealism. Humanity is flawless in that regard.

He wishes to outrun it. To outsmart is so entirely that he doesn’t have to look back.

Gods, he’d said. Had it been a promise? A desire? A selfishness? Deep in his heart he wishes it were true. To be untouchable. Revered across realms and entrusted with the loyalty of many. Individually, they are insignificant. Together, they are a force to be reckoned with. A god needs followers. Worshippers are a bonus, an add-on. Followers – they are the wind, carrying his word, lifting him to newer heights, going to inconceivable lengths to believe.

What is a king to a god?

What is a god to a non-believer?

When he’d abandoned the idea of heaven and challenged the fallen in hell, he’d clung to a hope that it would be all for whatever followed greatness. For whatever came above it. Beyond it.

However, with each pact grew his greed. And his boredom. That hunger of his was insatiable. Knowledge seemed trivial, a thing of the past. Something he coveted but something he no longer went out of his way to obtain. Circle by circle, he descended evermore into the darkness.

You were just another human. He watched as people threw themselves at you. He watched as you harnessed your gift. He watched as your expression grew warm.

He began to see, to feel again. The beauty of emotion came flooding his senses, dulling the ache, pushing away the emptiness. His heart beats ever steady in his chest, only, it beats for you.

The rhythm in his veins sings to the tune of your likeness and he feels…love. An all-encompassing concoction of dignity. He forgets about the monsters and the skeletons in his closet. He’s too focused, too engaged in the way you speak and the way you hold your breath. In the way your brows furrow, your lips purse, how they send sparks through him. He begins to learn. He begins to remember.

And then…comes the fear.

The fear of death and the fear of being forgotten.

If there is no one left to whisper his name, it will be as if he never walked the Earth in the first place. What is a legend but a fable on the lips of believers? What is a myth but a story written in the tongue of dreamers?

A rotting corpse, a dying shell. Slotted in alongside others like him who had failed to achieve the very same goal that mocks him. Ever further he goes, ever stronger it laughs.

And so, you, like so many before you, are there to tell him it’s okay. That you will remember him. And that, in itself, is enough.

He will continue to ponder, eventually taking your word for it. He will thank you as he holds your hand in his, smiling in that way that has even the stars smitten.

#i wrote this at 5am after waking up at 3 #forgive me if it doesn't rly flow #obey me writing #obey me solomon #obey me! solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x gn reader #my writing 🐇

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project-box · 4 years

Photo

What would have been 04: Henry’s desk + collectibles

Please read this if you haven’t yet!!!

Searching the desk was the “minigames” in Project Box. During the day, when the animatronics would bury themselves underground again, Charlie would have a chance to search for anything to help her escape-- only she finds her father’s belongings instead.

Below contains scripted dialogue Charlie had for each collectible, as well as 2 diary entries from William Afton in the mid 80s.

In the books, Henry’s work is mysteriously cleaned out from his garage. In Project Box, Afton was the one who stole it all, along with Henry’s desk and placed it inside the game’s main room. Henry’s recordings would have a stack of work papers, with different passcodes being written each tape. By watching each tape you could unlock a different drawer from his desk.

The desk drawers

Tape 1 found on top of the desk contains the first mention the box, as well as the passcode to open the left drawer. The passcode for the left drawer would have been “1578” to reference the easter egg of what Baby repeats in a distorted voice in Sister Location.

Clicking the Box in the left drawer would have moved the box to the desk’s top. But I’ll talk about the box in another post.

The right top drawer has a passcode that references the distortion you hear when zapping Ballora on night 2 of Sister Location. In tape 2, the writing paper on Henry’s desk would read “P.H.A.S.E”, giving the order of buttons you would press to unlock the 2nd drawer.

The right bottom drawer would have the passcode be “RWQFSFASXC” in reference to shadow Bonny ( or in Project Box’s case, twisted Springtrap ). The keypad is supposed to look like the arrangement of the ‘QWER ASDF ZXCV’ keys on the English keyboard.

The collectibles

I’ll talk about the tapes in another post.

The photographs: The first photograph is Henry and Afton at the grand opening of the original Fredbear’s Family Diner. The logo was inspired by 80s logo of Pizza Time Theater. In both photos, Henry is wearing sweaters to reference Nolan Bushnell. Henry’s handwriting was changed from cursive to capitalized print to differ himself from Afton’s cursive. The smudges on the polaroid’s writings hint that Henry is left handed.

The blueprints and springlocks: These were to 1. hint that Fredbear and Spring Bonny’s springlocks were designed differently ( though it’s hard to tell here since Spring Bonny’s blueprint isn’t actually finished... sorry LOL ). The differences in their design would play into the story, which I’ll explain in another post. I had to research how springlocks actually worked, since the best description we get is in FNAF 3.

Afton’s diary entries: I’ll explain why Afton’s diary entries are in Henry’s desk in another post. These entries exist to lay the foundation of Project Box’s backstory: The history between Afton and Henry. They were inspired by the books mentioning the police finding entries written by Afton, and how they went from praising Henry to cursing him, and even showing Afton's paranoia.

Afton entry 1:

17th December, 1984:

Henry has done it again. When doubted because of his unusual designs, he manages to overcome that doubt and amaze me and our patrons with this constructions. His work could fool children with the way these machines move with the illusion of life. It makes me wonder.

Bones, veins, organs. Rods, wires, circuit boards. Humans, are we not just complex machines? What separates us from them? When a computer is dismantled, it no longer operates. There are many who think we do the same. That when a human dies, they cease to exist.

But I know better. I am well aware of the lingering “existences”. They watch me. They follow me. I can feel their glares on my neck even as I write this.

The machines I create are only that- machines. I’ve always envied Henry’s gift of the illusion of life. But perhaps, I can finally surpass him. The life I create can be authentic. So be it.

To the souls I give gifts, bodies once more. And to the machines, I give life.

Afton entry 2:

15th March, 1985:

I once entertained the thought of getting a tattoo or two. To draw a meaningful picture on my skin. To see a mirrored version when I look in the mirror. But now, as I stand before the glass, there’s only a symmetrical pattern of rings and lines stamped across my body. I’ve grown to adore them over the months. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real. I can recall that day as if I dreamed it last night.

Realization in Henry’s eyes as he caught me tucking a small, lifeless body into Chica’s torso. Blonde curls and a bow. I never asked for her name, I never cared. Reminiscences of my hands on her throat only moments ago were discarded by Henry’s hands suddenly on my own throat. The realization in his eyes burned into anger. I was wearing Spring Bonny that day. His fingers flexed, and I collapsed on the ground as the spring locks he warned me about so many times pierced into me. The last thing I saw before blacking out was him placing Chica’s mask back onto it’s shoulders, hiding the girl.

The anger in his eyes that day, however, is worth nothing to me compared to the horror that filled them days later when I returned to him unexpectedly. He thought he ended it for good. He was mistaken. I told him his son looked just like that girl with curls. It would be a shame if his daughter looked like that too.

He’s been quite cooperative since then. At least until recently. The look in his eyes now: Determination. He’s hiding something.

Charlie’s dialogue when collecting

Photograph ‘Grand Opening’: “The fact that my dad worked with him for so long…. Makes me sick.”

Photograph ‘Christmas ‘79’: “Mine and Sammy’s first Christmas. I guess sweaters were my Dad’s way of dressing formally.”

Fredbear’s blueprint: “Fredbear. I never knew he was his own character, separate from Freddy… I’m sorry you have to be trapped in that... cage, Michael.”

Spring Bonny’s blueprint: “The counterpart to Fredbear. How are they so... cursed? Both only… shadows of what they were supposed to be.”

Fredbear’s springlock: “A spring lock. Gotta be careful with this fella, he’s small but he packs a punch.”

Spring Bonny’s springlock: “This spring lock… the spring is rotating a different direction from the other one I found.”

Afton’s entry 1: “Is this… why he did it? What he did to those kids... to Michael?”

Afton’s entry 2: “This was what dad meant in his tape. This is how he found out. Dad... I’m so sorry.”

#updates #what would have been #concept art

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alittlewhump · 3 years

Text

Unbidden - Act 3, chapter 10

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: death mention, mutilation mention, fantasy religion

The bodies were strange. They were dressed in the tatters of elaborate regalia that marked them as members of the Zakarum high council, but each one was twisted and deformed to the point where they only looked human at the first glance. All of them were also missing one hand. As Morgan examined them, it became clear that those wounds, though inflicted recently, had not been what had killed them. Unusual burn marks spread like roots across the bodies, concentrated in the centre and spreading thin across the extremities. Lightning, perhaps. Phaedra sported a similar pattern of scarring on her hands, just as Telash was marked with numerous small burns and the tips of Devak's fingers were blackened and insensate from cold. If the lightning was strong enough to leave such large burns, it certainly would have done enough damage to the organs to kill the council members almost instantly.

Zakarum was a strict faith with little tolerance for outside interference. They had a particular distaste for adherents of the Order of Rathma, which presented something of a quandary for Morgan. The spirits of the council members were agitated, he could sense their restlessness - they had nearly attacked him when he'd reached out with his mind to look at their bones, which had been warped just as much as the flesh atop them. He wanted to lay them to rest, as was his duty to any unsettled souls, but they could not find peace with him leading them there. Being shunned for his affiliation was nothing new, but this was the first time it was coming from the dead themselves.

"What are they?" Blaise was leaning against a wall, having satisfied herself that there was no immediate danger.

"I believe they were once the Zakarum high council. That's what their clothing suggests." Morgan ran his fingers over the fine silken fabric just once, briefly savouring the texture before lifting his hand away. He didn't need to further agitate the spirits.

"These used to be people?" She came nearer, squinting down at the bodies. "Could have fooled me. What happened to them?"

"I don't know," Morgan admitted. "I've never seen anything like this."

"We could ask around at the docks," Blaise suggested. "One of the Iron Wolves might know something. Do you want to bury them before we head back?"

"Ordinarily yes, but not in this case." Morgan stood from where he'd been kneeling next to one of them. "Devout Zakarumites view the Order of Rathma as a heretical cult, and do not suffer our presence gladly. They will not let me aid them."

"Well, I mean, all the business with the dead is pretty disturbing. To an outsider. It's not so bad once you get used to it, though."

"Their main objection is to our dedication to the Balance," Morgan explained. "Zakarum preaches devotion to the Light exclusively."

"The Light is good, though, right?"

"The Light is goodness and order. But without chaos to offset it, order will eventually turn on itself. This is why the Balance is necessary."

"Makes enough sense."

"The faithful of Zakarum disagree. It is their perogative, but it does complicate our work." Morgan unrolled a portal scroll. "We should prepare ourselves with what knowledge we can gather."

"Wouldn't hurt to prepare ourselves with equipment either," Blaise observed. "I'm running a little low on arrows. Mephisto is going to be at the bottom of this place, yeah?"

"I should think so. This is the temple Tyrael mentioned." It was still strange to think about their encounter with the angel. To imagine that such a great power could require their aid. Well, Blaise's, anyway. She was by far the stronger, and better - or, more precisely, naturally aligned with good. But the threat to the Balance was significant enough to warrant Morgan's involvement as well, however little help he might actually prove to be. He would do all he could to support Blaise to the best of his ability. To avoid getting in her way, at least.

"You gonna open that thing or what?"

Morgan blinked. He was still holding the scroll open, unread. "Yes, of course." He opened the portal to the docks. There were preparations to make.

Cain had a theory about the missing hands. Mephisto had been imprisoned in a magical artifact known as a soulstone, bound inside its facets. According to the stories Cain had gleaned from the remaining residents, the Zakarum priests had split the stone into pieces with the intent of making it more difficult for the demon lord's soul to be reassembled. But they hadn't made the appropriate preparations, he surmised, and they had damaged the integrity of the stone in splitting it. The essence of chaos had seeped out of the stone fragments to corrupt their bearers, which explained their twisted, monstrous forms.

The concept of a soulstone was intriguing. Each one was created through magical means developed by the Horadrim, and could contain the soul of a powerful demon. Their effectiveness could be amplified through the conduit of a living body - ancient, forbidden magic, undeniably powerful but with a high cost. The priests had likely noticed their mistake too late and tried to correct it by using their own bodies to confine the pieces of the demon lord's soul. A noble effort, but ultimately unsuccessful. Something had recently collected the soulstone pieces, presumably with the intent to reassemble them.

The implications of that were grim. It could only mean that Diablo and Baal intended to restore the stone containing their brother, the third point of their triad. On the bright side, there hadn't yet been any cataclysmic, world-ending eruptions of power that one might expect from the reunification of the Prime Evils. But the absence of such events only raised more questions. Were they biding their time, gathering their strength? Was there something about the soulstones that was still impeding them somehow? Cain didn't have answers to these questions, but it was clear that they would need to retrieve the soulstone if at all possible.

Morgan asked around, but none of the Iron Wolves were adherents to Zakarum. Unfortunately for the council members, that meant they would simply have to wait until someone of their preferred faith returned to lay them to rest properly. If they even would - their failure to contain the power of Mephisto had warped them badly enough that it was possible they might no longer be welcomed at all in that religion of Light, despite all they had done trying to preserve it. That was a sobering thought, but Morgan set it aside in favour of concentrating on their larger goal.

None of the Iron Wolves seemed particularly interested in supporting their assault on Mephisto, either. Morgan couldn't fault them for that; the power of a Prime Evil was not something to take lightly, and the danger was great. Blaise was considerably less impressed by their refusal. Morgan left her arguing with Telash as he sought out Ormus. Perhaps the wise old mage would share a particularly useful insight before the battle.

Ormus didn't have much to add when questioned, but scrutinized Morgan with narrowed eyes. "Mind your nest," he advised briefly. "The honeyguide is waiting." With that, he turned away toward Alkor's hut.

"Thank you," Morgan said to his retreating back. The advice was in the mage's usual vein, of course. Honeyguides were birds, he knew that much. Ones that were known to lead people to bee colonies, feasting on the insects after the humans had taken the honey. Was he a bee in this metaphor? Bee nests were usually called hives, but no other sort of nest seemed relevant. He puzzled over it a little longer but no clear answer revealed itself. There were more pressing things to consider at the moment, so he set it aside in favour of finding Blaise. Perhaps she had learned something a little more concrete, and he wanted to share Cain's insights as well.

#my writing #story: unbidden #death mention tw #mutilation tw #fantasy religion tw

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years

Text

Tʜᴇ Cᴀɪᴍ

“ Caim (n.) sanctuary; an invisible circle of protection, drawn around the body with the hand, to remind one of being safe and loved, even in the darkest times. “

Word Count: 3893

Requested: no. i saw the idea requested by anon on another account, but the writers requests were closed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It seemed that the days were growing longer and longer, but unchanging in what they contained and offered. Time was distinguished to the fullest extent, dragging on in a rhythm-like march that followed you around wherever you traveled.

It may have been a sort of depression, but the word did not come to mind when you thought about your condition. Stale, angering, stuck, dragging- these words were the ones you thought of instead. Your feelings felt numb, like you were bored of feeling whatever it was. Everything was the same, even when it was different.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had been tasked with leading their battalion to retake Umbara for what felt like the hundredth time. They had a fair enough plan, strategic though patient. In the early stages, however, Chancellor Palpatine had called the both of them to Coruscant, leaving them to wonder who would move forward to replace them.

Obi-Wan had initially thought of Plo Koon, who was unflappable and more than capable of commanding troops in a methodical plan. But the General was unavailable. Anakin insisted Rex and Cody could handle it on their own, but upon further thought realized Rex may not have taken well to it. The man was capable and sturdy, but seemed faltered without orders from someone he trusted so much. Granted, he had become less rigid as the war progressed, but he had also become more anguished at times. Ever since that General Krell... Nasty business on Umbara...

Obi-Wan was glad that you had accepted his request.

You were a bit of a mystery to everyone in the Jedi Order. Not in the worst way, by any means, but in the way that made you more observant than others. You spoke when spoken to, and while you didn’t often, when you said something people listened. You were a wise person with a brilliant knack for battle strategy, a stunning way of using your lightsaber, and of course- you weren’t Pong Krell.

So when Obi-Wan asked you, you accepted. You explained you had to finish your mission to fly over Ryloth with your battalion and that you would arrive shortly. The two Jedi explained to you the plan, Anakin with a bit of a charismatic nudge, and then they were on their way.

It was fine enough. There were times when you wondered about your own Clones, but you knew they were in good hands. The 501st was under your command for the time, you had them to worry about them instead.

For a month, things were as well as they could’ve been. The plan was on schedule, the clones respected you. You respected them in turn. But as described above, it was all slipping together in the worst way. Your feelings felt like they were aching and sore, cracking like dried dirt. Your muscles twisted in dull agony, eyes becoming less and less impressed with every experience.

It was terrible. Your theory was that the guilt of the war and the atrocities birthed from it had climbed so high in your gut and your mind that your body made itself numb to everything. There was nothing to be happy over, not much to appreciate. But with the numbness came the blocking of all the bad things as well, and there was nothing you could do but drown in it.

You felt exhausted, strained, overwhelmed and underwhelmed at the same time.

So, the days were the same. There was no point in keeping personal track of time. There was no point in having memories. No point in having standards, even. You woke up, you pushed the battalion forward, made progress, checked on the troops, and went to sleep. Sometimes you would train or give a quick report to Obi-Wan, though last time an explosion had stolen your attention midway through.

Then, one day, it wasn’t the same. It was different. Funny how even something so small can cast a large shadow like that.

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ.

It was written in tight letters, a little messy but still straight and clear. The second period was spaced a little too far away from the letters, almost as if the person had nearly forgotten it. But they wouldn’t have done that. No, they wouldn’t have. The letters, however italicized with sloppiness, are still written carefully. They might’ve been filled with anxiety just to say the words to you, more or less.

Your thumb rolled over the scrap of paper, admiring the crispness. Someone was looking out for you. It wasn’t an accident, it was outside of your temporary room back at the base. Just by the door.

Someone was looking out for you. Who would do that? One of the Clones? You knew they respected you. That Captain Rex was always polite enough and continued to prove his worth as an impressive soldier. Commander Cody was more than worthy of his title. And while there was a divide between the Clones and you, perhaps it was possible that one of them had cared about you enough to check in.

Such a tiny, simple thing it was. It would’ve been silly to obsess over forever, so you didn’t. You obsessed over it for the night.

Carefully, as if not to damage the little slip of paper, you placed it beside the shelf you slept on. Then you went to sleep after thinking about it, ready to go back to things being the same.

It wasn’t the same. After you finished defending the perimeter of the base from some aggravated Umbaran’s, you switched your saber off with a twirl. All the same, all the same. Drowning in boredom and dull frustration, circles under your eyes as it all dragged on without the good.

“General, are you okay?” Rex asked from beside you. You stopped your walking to turn and look at him and Cody, who were standing and sitting at the ready, still dressed in armor head to toe. It looked especially good on them, though you thought the blue fit Rex better. “You’re bleeding,” he said, nudging his head a little.

You followed his eyes down to your arm. On your left one, around your shoulder but just above the elbow, was a long, scarlet slit. It looked almost purple in the Umbaran light, but it was dripping down nonetheless. One of the opposing soldiers must’ve nicked you.

“Yes, I’m alright,” you said, still observing the wound.

“It looks pretty bad, sir,” Rex continued. His arms reach up to remove his helmet and reveal his face. “Maybe you should get that checked out.”

Something brewed in your tummy, something warm that reminded you of your childhood. It felt nice that someone wanted you to be alright, even with something as minor as a scratch. This, and whoever had written you the note last night. While you weren’t so comfortable and felt a bit too tense for your liking, it was nice to hear Rex’s simple words.

You look back up to meet his amber eyes. They’re golden, sort of brown and shining copper. “Are you two alright?” you venture to ask. Your hand comes to rub your arm, as if brushing fingers against it will wipe the injury away.

“I thought I was a goner for a second,” Cody sighed. “Would’ve been if not for Rex.”

You looked back to the blue painted soldier with questioning eyes. Rex seems almost flustered for a second, like he’s uncertain about collecting praise.

“Just doing my duty, sir,” he decides to say after a moment.

A soft expression overtakes your face. “Experience outranks everything, right?”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The note was under your door this time. Not beside it.

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪꜱɪɴꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀɴᴅᴀɢᴇ. ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇꜱᴛ.

Your eyes soften as you look over the words. It meant a little more to you this time, lingered a while longer, because you honestly probably would’ve forgotten to disinfect the cut. So while you wrap your gauze around the wound you replay the kindness in your head.

But it didn’t end there.

ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʀᴀᴅɪᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ. ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴀɴᴅᴀɢᴇ.

Again, your thumb rolls over the paper, across the ink. It was dried already by now, but it still felt new and clean. Crisp.

You tucked the third slip of paper away in a metal box. The other two from the nights before stayed bright and meaningful inside.

The pattern continued. About 48 hours later, another note arrived. Instead of under your door, it was folded like a tent outside of your door. You noticed the quality of the paper was a bit different, almost better and more thick, but you didn’t mind. You hoped whoever was doing this hadn’t felt you needed such a royal kind of paper, for the words inside were what had mattered most.

ɪ ꜱᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ. ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ.

Your lips turned upward slowly. Your thumbs ran over the paper lovingly, as if it was someones hand and you were appreciating it. It almost felt like a hand. The words were veins. Crinkles were knuckles. Shiny ink was little scars and flecks.

You thought of the hands of the Clones. Perhaps because they were the ones you had seen the most over the last few weeks. But you could remember one specific set of hands so clearly, even though it was almost the same as his brothers.

Captain Rex had a white scar across his right palm. Faint and thin, surrounded by callouses from holding his blasters so tightly. You’d seen his palm the one time you’d shook his hand and remembered it from the others because of the little mark. Rex stood out from his brothers.

You weren’t cruel enough to think all Clones were the same. They were all individuals, with individual brains and personalities and thoughts. Treating them as anything less than people was wrong, and General Krell had payed the price for it. But Rex still stood prominent in your mind. You weren’t sure why.

It was kind of like he was typed in bold when everyone else was typed in italics.

You showered that night, which you hadn’t bothered to do in a while. Rinsed your hair with a smile on your face, ran your fingers over your long eyelashes as they dripped with water. You felt more bare than usual somehow, all because of a group of words. It was almost comforting.

The next morning, your aura was different. Your posture was more straightened, eyes softer, hair shinier and clean. You still felt that same dull tension and thickness in the air, but it wasn’t as harsh today. You had woken up feeling brighter.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“Good morning, General,” Rex greeted as he approached you. His helmet was tucked under his arm, with Commander Cody at his side. Both their faces were pulled into stern frowns as always, as if they were programmed for seriousness. The few times you had seen these two specific Clones smile had been a bit of a relief to you.

“Captain. Commander,” you returned.

“We’re supposed to move out of here soon, right General?” Cody asks. You nod your head.

“We’re just entering phase 3. We should be done in the next few weeks.”

“Anything you need from us, General?”

You look around, gazing at your soldiers in the indigo light of the system. You could feel how tired and strained they were. It was different from your own strain, more physical. You felt guilty for this, as you were responsible for them, but you knew it would’ve happened with Skywalker and Kenobi anyway.

“I’m mostly concerned with keeping the men in spirit,” you say with a sigh. Both the men swell with satisfaction at the sound of your voice saying ‘men’. Not Clones. Not numbers. Men. “Anything to try and help that is enough.”

Commander Cody nodded, appreciating the sentiment. “Right away, General,” he said. He turned on his heel and marched off, respect in his identical soldier heart.

“He’s a good man,” you say as you watch him. The white and golden streaks walk further and further away.

“He is,” says Rex as he watches him over his shoulder as well. “I’m proud to call him my brother.”

The corner of your lips raises in a flash. It’s a brief wave of warmth coming from the sincerity of people. It’s difficult to find as a Jedi within yourself, only because of how forbidden it is. It’s difficult to find in other people at a time of war, but here is the best. Between Rex and Cody, between Rex and his men.

The smile disappears before Rex turns around. He turns to find your eyes already on him, observing.

“Something I can do for you?” you question. You had expected him to leave with Cody, but you can feel the heat radiating off of him, even from the distance between you. You’re not close by any means, but he feels... warm.

Rex’s shoulders raise as his mouth opens, then closes. Like he wanted to say something. He shakes his head a little, fumbling. “Did you sleep alright, General?”

You’re not as close to the 501st as Kenobi or Skywalker. Not close enough to talk about something outside of the war or planning. This takes you off guard. “Better than I have in a while,” you say, almost tentatively. “You?”

“Don’t worry about me, General,” Rex chuckles. “I’m alright. Just tired of being here is all.”

You agree wholeheartedly. Before you can vocalize this, someone calls you. You nod politely towards Rex before walking off. He watches as you go.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ. ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ.

A shaky sigh escapes you. This person was serious about doing this for you. After the guilt, the boredom, the frustration and the slow, agonizing burn from being where you were, this one wasn’t giving up. You could almost... relax. Relax into the notes like one might in a lovers arms.

Little by little, you collapsed in on yourself with every new note.

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴊᴏʙ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʏ, ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴇɴ.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴛᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ. ɪ'ʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ.

With each note you received, the more your heart shook.

You could feel... calm, when you got these. After being a protector and guardian, someone was doing the same for you. Alleviating tension and stress from your shoulders. The knots of your back were untwisting slowly, the strings of your heart pulling. Sometimes, in the dead of the Umbaran night, if you thought too hard about it, tears would prick your eyes.

It was so... kind. Doing this for anyone at all, but especially you.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

During the last week of the mission, you were returning back to your room. Rounding the corner, you bumped into none other than the famed Captain himself.

His army was bulky and sharp against you, but you didn’t mind. You were too busy running into it to really notice. You bumped back before anything could happen, blinking a few times.

“General!” the man gasped in a slightly high voice. His hands reached out to steady your shoulders, although it wasn’t necessary. “I’m sorry, General. I didn’t see you there,” Rex said quickly. Nervously.

“It’s alright,” you promised. “There’s no problem.”

Wait a minute. Rex had no business being down this way. He slept with the other troops in the nearby facility. He had insisted on it. “What are you doing here?”

Rex swallows, confirming his anxiety. His hands drop away from you and he takes a respectful step back, keeping his posture upright and formal. “I was just... just running an inspection sir.”

“Running an inspection... in the hallway to my quarters?”

“Yes! Ah, Cody requested it.”

An eyebrow raised. “Cody requested you to run an inspection in the hallway to my quarters?”

“Yes.”

Your shoulders shift. Arms come up to cross as you look up at the Captain. “Why?”

“Just... general inspection stuff.”

“Hey, Rex?” you continued, leaning forward.

“Yes, sir?” Rex replied, stiffening like a true soldier would.

“You’re a bad liar.”

His amber eyes widen for a moment. You can feel his heart rate pick up, the sweat begin to form on his palms. His throat goes dry as his brain struggles to stop and go at the same time, somehow working both a parsec per minute and not at all.

“You’re dismissed,” you decide casually. “Go on.”

Rex opens his mouth to say something more, but then closes it. With a slow nod like an ashamed child, he moves past you and continues down the wall.

You watch his back. He turns to get a final look at you as he goes, but this makes your heart jump and you surge yourself forward.

There’s another note at your door. Folded again, clean and proper. A relaxed smile graces your lips. Finally, after all the combat of the day, you were where and with what you wanted. The notes had become the highlight of your life.

You reach down with outstretched fingers and open it. Your body is letting go of the anxiety already, more than happy to welcome the new words.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ.

The love and appreciation fills your heart in place of the anger and frustration you’d been feeling. All the feelings of being trapped or drifting away as you succumb to the kind ones words.

You can’t help it. It’s like melting into the words as easy as falling into a soft mattress. It felt like all the blood of the stress and pain was evaporating as you gazed at the words. Like an ocean that carries everything you’ve been feeling away from you with the waves. The tide takes the weight from you in the simple stroke of a pen.

You’re special. You matter.

You turn your head back down the hallway, to the point where you had bumped into your Captain. You knew he hadn’t come down this way for an inspection, but what if he had come down this way for you. Solely you. A note for you.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You don’t drop your gaze from his eyes.

They’re flickering around, almost looking for an escape. He feels the pressure you’re putting on him from just a look and a stance. He feels the weight of your words, however passive they may be. But you don’t dare buckle or shiver.

“Find anything interesting during your inspection, Rex?” you asked.

Cody looked over at his comrade, who was visibly disturbed by the situation. Rex was looking between your eyes, his own skirting back and forth between left and right. “You ordered an inspection?” he asked his brother.

Your lips twitch into the faintest of smirks. Rex knows he’s done for. He knows you know now, and he’s watching the intelligence dance in your eyes from the situation. Oh, he should’ve known better than to not only overstep his bounds, but attempt to deceive a Jedi as well! He’s ruined himself now! What will you do to him now?

Rex struggles to form words. “Ah... I-”

“You misunderstand,” you said quickly. Your eyes didn’t leave the Captain’s, almost like a dare. “The Captain and I share many inside jokes.”

Cody sighs humorously. “I didn’t realize you two were so close, General.”

Rex didn’t remember what happened next. He may not have wanted to.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴠᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴍᴀʀᴋᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇʜᴏʟᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

You smile softly at this one, solidified in how it makes you feel. All the notes- no he- he has done this. He’s the one who saw your invisible suffering, and softened it for you all on his own. Not because he had to, but out of the sheer kindness of his heart. He wanted you to be alright, for one reason or another, and he had done what he felt was right to get there.

It made you feel safe, protected. Calm.

You tuck the note away with all the others, in the little metal box by where you rest. You don’t receive anymore for the rest of the week, limiting your interaction with the Captain. You talked only when necessary on the battlefield.

You led the troops to victory, pushing your final assault. Retaking Umbara had proven a lengthy and difficult task, but you had of course prevailed. It was partially owed to Kenobi and Skywalker, for conceiving such a wise plan, but your praise was not hindered. When you had alerted Obi-Wan of the success, he was glad his faith in you was not misplaced. All was well.

That night, while the troops celebrated and you returned to your quarters, you found the last note you would receive on the system. You hadn’t expected it, but you were overjoyed to see it.

ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“I’m glad it was a success,” Obi-Wan said with a relaxed smile. Anakin folds his arms, an eyebrow raising.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Kenobi. Your plan was responsible for the victory,” you say in turn. Your eyes catch your soldier- your favorite soldier- walking in the background. His blue painted armor is chipped, and he’s waving his hands around for effect as he speaks under his helmet.

“How was Rex?” Anakin asks. “I hoped he behaved himself. I was worried he wouldn’t feel comfortable working under any Generals he didn’t know.”

You watch Captain Rex from behind them. You can imagine his golden eyes lighting up as he hears his comrades laugh. The careful way he had written his feelings out for you in any attempt to provide you with a circle of protection. Ironic, considering you were the one tasked with the protecting.

“He’s proved himself useful,” you say. You watch as the man slips his helmet from his head and tuck it under his arm.

“He certainly is a good man,” Obi-Wan agrees, him and Anakin turning to watch the Clone.

“Yes,” you whisper, a soft smile creeping over your face as you commit the Captain to memory. “He is.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I didn’t check this for spelling errors. I’ll do it later, I just want to put something out. And if this gets enough asks for it then I’ll make a part two, because I think it might work idk.

Taglist: @haztory @omg-we-really-doo @chokemeanakin @anakinswhore @.drunk anon (i know you said you liked rex) @fanficsforheartandsoul

#captain rex #rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #captain rex imagines #captain rex fluff #captain rex angst #rex x reader #rex imagine #rex imagines #rex fluff #rex angst #tcw imagines #tcw x reader #star wars x reader #rex fanfiction

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paragonrobits · 3 years

Text

The First Hero

Finn approaches the old campsite carefully. There’s a sense of respect when he does it; he does not move with fear (if, indeed, it is something he really understands anymore), nor with mistrust. Those around him regard him openly, and calmly.

They are people of many kinds; he sees candy people and goblins, chimeric mutants from all around Ooo. There’s faint shapes that might be whywolves and their other grammatically-oriented kin, and flame elements in suits to protect the world around them from their destructive bodies.

There are no humans. Finn isn’t surprised. His people are either dying, or already dead; he is the only human in generations to venture out as an adventurer and not remain in their hiding holes. He suspects he will be the last.

A few glances look towards him as he says, “Show me where he is, please?” and in response, they point him to a massive shape hunched over a nearby fire. It’s not a particularly important place. No throne, no collection of trophies, just a random campfire in the middle of nowhere.

Around him, someone softly begins to sing:

“Sakaarson. My heart is cold. My dreams are empty.”

Finn clears his throat and approaches.

“Sakaarson. My nights are full of fear, and my days of dread.”

The great shape is silent, for a moment. It, or he, appears to be listening.

“Sakaarson. Let me dream again.”

And then, as though a ritual has been observed, the great shape lurches up, with a fierce grunt. The voice is deep, and rumbling into sixteen different tones all at the same time, and it is a frightening thing. The voice is not... he wants to say, human. It is not familiar. It is a growl, pummeled into words and haunting the mind with echoes of madness, of ferocity, of the lurching power beneath the world.

It is the voice of a true monster.

But the tone is surprisingly calm and gentle. “What do you want?” He rumbles. Gruff and to the point, with a suggestion that dithering and wasting time in small talk would not be greeted warmly.

Finn looks up at him. Even though the figure sitting opposite him is sitting down, it takes him a while looking up before he finds a face.

Mostly, the hero before him is surprisingly human-like. The shape, the skin texture, is shockingly familiar to him. For a moment, he sees the broad shoulders, the enormously large muscles (his arm alone was bigger than he, Finn, was!) and he thinks of Susan.

But the skin is green. Or perhaps gray, turned green by a faint and terrible light pulsing from within, flashing up from obscenely swollen veins like the pulse of some awful magma flow from beneath the earth. Countless scars glisten in the night, half-healed and shining brightly enough to mix with the pale body paint adorning the massive body in patterns he does not recognize. A ragged purple cloak covers most of the rest, and ancient trophies are just barely visible. A faded shield over one shoulder, like a shoulder piece, and on another, a broken helm just big enough to function as another shoulder piece. There were other relics, but somehow it seemed wrong to study them. These seemed intimate, reminders of long-bygone friendships.

The face is monstrous, and human. Finn cannot say how it is monstrous; the shape is human enough, though the mouth is perhaps overlarge, and from bristling brows shine green eyes burning like the sun. But some quality to it feels off. Mostly, it’s the eyes. They burn and stare, like windows into some other land that Finn thought no human should ever have seen.

There was another quality to them, too. Mister Petrikov had eyes like this: they were heavy with old pain and long, hard memories, stretching back so far there probably wasn’t a beginning to things being bad. These were old eyes, and hurting eyes.

And the face reminded him of Billy, and he ached at the thought. Blame, guilt and shame coursed together, twisting like snakes. Then he thought better of it; the face was broad, the jawline mostly obscured by a short beard, and hair tangling about in a wild dark mane. The expression was very unlike Billy or Canyon; it was grim, mouth quirking downwards as if permanently ready to complain or possibly bite someone.

And again, the old hero spoke. “You’re human.”

There was a pause.

“Hmph,” the hero said. It was hard to say if he sounded disappointed, was just stating a fact, or if he was genuinely shocked.

Finn had to answer the question, ever since he’d heard stories of this hero; stories that, Marceline had told him, had been old when she was a little girl. “Are YOU human?”

The hero shrugged his massive shoulders. It wasn’t without bitterness; Finn had the impression he actually was insulted by it, but had long since stopped caring enough to genuinely get angry about it. “Complicated question. I was, I suppose.” He looked across the land. “A long, long time ago.”

He was there when I was a little kid, over a thousand years ago, Marceline said. People were scared of him, then, when the world was starting to end. Some people thought he brought the Lich on purpose. I think he tried to kill it, but, y’know. Some things you can’t beat.

“You were there, weren’t you?” Finn pressed. “When the great Mushroom War happened?”

“...Yeah. When the puny humans finally did what I said they were always going to do.” The ancient hero points a massive green finger at Finn. “Be better than them, kid. They were always begging for help, and then stabbing you in the back the instant you saved them.”

“But you were there?”

“Yeah. I was.”

“Then you were there, teaching the first heroes.”

“Ah. A historian.” The old hero quirked an eyebrow. He smiled. Or at least, his ragged scar of a mouth quirked in a slightly less grumpy way. “No, no. You’re scarred. You’ve fought. You’re a hero, too.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yeah. I live in the woods. I fight bad guys.”

“So what’s on your mind, then? Human hero.” He said that softly, as if not quite believing it.

“You’re the first hero. But no one says what your name is.”

There is a long, long pause.

“Hulk,” the first hero says simply. “There were more heroes, back in my day. But they ended before the Mushroom War did. I’m still here. I will always be here.” After a moment, he pats Finn on the head, awkward and uncertain. “Good to see others like you, then.”

Finn breaths, the history of knowing someone even older than Marceline a stunning thing.

Marceline had told him, They used to say he was the devil himself.

Finn has a hard time believing it.

#finn mertins #adventure time #hulk #marvel #crossover #my writing #fics #a long time ago i h ad ideas for a crossover where Finn was a reincarnation of the marvel Thor #and Hulk was the only surviving hero #i never really did anything with the concept tho #so here this is

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bangtanlalaland · 4 years

Text

honsool | myg (m.)

synopsis ↳the ongoing war between two countries has finally been settled once and for all after two decades. Emperor Min Yoongi now rules and he’s able to rest after five years of holding the throne, that is, when he orders to have a private session with the districts best — yet the dynamic of the encounter changes.

— historical!au

→pairing: emperor!min yoongi x gisaeng!female reader

→genre: smut, crack, pwp

→word count: 2.3k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, drunk yoongi (duh lol), unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), exhibitionism (a little), overstimulation, impreg kink, teasing, oral sex (f receiving), some spitting, some ass slapping, creampie, hair-pulling, yoongi is a total dom but he’s also soft (don’t @ me), daddy kink (more like the use of “sir”)

song rec: “honsool” by agust d

a/n: just PURE fucking, filthy SMUT with 0% plot & NOT edited because i’m a SLUT for AGUST D/SUGA/YOONGI MIN! FuCK, like if you haven’t listened to D-2 yet, you’re clearly lacking some good DICK in ur life so make sure you go stream it because FUCK have I NOT been able to function since it’s release & the whole album has been on repeat & GODDAMMIT I am now officially YOONGI’s MAIN BITcH!!!

☞ disclaimer: Please drink responsibly. If any of the warnings listed above offends you in any way, please do not read. I am not 100% knowledgable of the history of Korea, therefore if any characters, settings, and/or facts/statements are incorrect, please disregard. However, this body of text is for entertainment purposes only. All characters, settings, scenarios, and dialogue are fictitious. Any similarity to events or persons, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

You’d been arranged a sudden journey to the dong of Myeongryebang, having received a letter from a nearby official that the emperor of Korea has requested your services. You carried nothing more than your cloth, tight-fitted hanbok. The emperor you’d heard of went by the name: Min Yoongi. Many townspeople spilt gibberish about his supposedly “ravishing” looks, yet you had never encountered him — not even once. If you could have pulled extra information from within “the book of gossips amongst the people of Jung-gu” you’d also discover that citizens raved mostly about his feline tendencies. Which was odd enough, you wouldn’t have known until you actually met him.

It was a brief moment when you’d taken in his appearance for the first time, and sure enough everyone was right. He looked exactly like a cat that it was nearly frightening. But fascinating at the same time. His rich, coffee-colored irises captured your attention. Evidently, you never knew any man with such intriguing, hooded lids that peer into your soul as if you’d just set up a “For Sale” sign. But it wasn’t just the eyes, it was him entirely. Lengthy, blonde strands draped down his figure, paired with those golden charms that dangled and adorned his ears. The geumbak-printed pattern of his black, silky hanbok shimmered on sight, startling whomever within his vicinity.

Yet again, it wasn’t just that.

The final attribute that grasped your attention, maybe even just did it for you like a finishing touch. The massive scar over his left eye, almost as if a sword had taken a clean slice. You’d only assumed it was evidence from a battle in which he’d won. But it was oh, so beautiful. The blemish spoke a thousand words — showing you that he’s powerful, willing, loyal, and courageous.

The moment Emperor Min laced his fingers around your waist and gazed deeply into your eyes, after you’d cited a few old Korean proverbs and sang a song, your entire being electrified with an overwhelming sense of lust. It was almost as if he’d lured you into a trance. And before you knew it, his cupid bow-shaped lips smashed with yours. The slightly dry texture rubbing against your top lip, and tugging your bottom lip back into place. His brawny, large hands grasped you tighter, pulling you flush to his body.

He smelt of flowers you’d happen upon somewhere in the fields, and his lips tasted of the deep, red bokbunja-ju he doused during your performance. He was intoxicated; the blackberries working as an aphrodisiac, clouding his judgment that he could no longer control himself, needing some type of relief especially during these hard times — a dry spell long overdue. He tugs your lip and sucks harshly, his kisses filled with nothing but lust and hunger. His erection throbs reluctantly at the sound of your soft whimpers.

“Shhh, princess. Can’t let anyone hear us, now can we?” He pulls away to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine. You nod your head in a “no” gesture, fully aware that your duties are to not involve sexual or romantic matters within your line of work — all the more reason the situation is exhilarating. His thumb and index finger lift your chin up and he cocks his eyebrow at you.

“Answer me, princess.” He demands, a slight sparkle in his eye from the ambient light of the oil lamps in the palace.

“Yes, Sir.” You slip, with a whine followed afterward. A coy smirk appears on his face, and he slips his hand behind your head to pull you towards his lips again, and this time he presses further. His tongue glides across your bottom lip, and you give in easily consumed by him and nothing but him. Before you could process everything, the night had just begun with pieces of your hanbok strewn across the flooring of the bedroom, left only in your undergarment. He has you underneath him, caged in his embrace as he hovers over you, planting love bites along your chest and being cautious to delicately nip at your neck and jawline, to not mark you enough that people would notice his markings on your body. The harmony of muffled moans and wet kisses fills your eardrums.

Your fingers find placement in Yoongi’s mane, the silky strands landing gracefully along and around your skin. Having removed your jeogori, your breasts on full display, Yoongi eases down your body to place kisses along your sternum and tummy. He trails his lips back up again and presses them against your nipples, easing his tongue out to work in a clockwise motion around your areola. His lips encase around your stiff bud, sucking ever so greatly, resulting in a rapid heat building down below. You quietly slip a whine, grinding yourself up against him.

“Look at you.. Warm and ready for me.” Yoongi coos while massaging your tits and flicking his tongue along your nips.

“Should I fill you up with my children? Make you so full of me that when anyone asks of your Emperor, all you’ll think of is how full you are of his cum, hm?” His fingers dig into your sides while he continues to suck your breasts as if they oozed milk. You delay in answering him, and he slaps your thigh, a sudden gasp escaping your lips.

“Speak when you’re spoken to, princess.”

You nod quickly, “Y-yes, Sir!” Desperate for his touch and cock.

“I don’t think you deserve my children, do you?” He abruptly stops his sucking session, and you squirm in response, needing to feel his mouth on you due to the rising heat within your core.

“Yes! I do, Sir. Please. Want you to fill me up so much.”

Your desperate cries and his desire to roam your body leaves Yoongi with no choice but to un-tie your dari sokgot. His fingers find placement on the thick material, the veins in his hands popping as he does so. Your wet pussy revealed to his eyes. He hums in response, flinging the fabric out of reach. Your impatience grows, as Yoongi places kisses along your abdomen, moving along your inner thighs. He notes your hips bucking in response to his ministrations.

“Patience, my princess.” Your eyebrows furrow due to the arousal peaking within the pit of your tummy. You need him badly, it’s now or never. Your kitty clenches, and it’s as if he senses this, his cold fingers slither up and down your folds.

“Mmm, Yoongi.” You moan, bucking your hips upwards yet again. He plants a gentle kiss on the mound of your cunt, slowly easing down to your outer lips, teasing you just an inch more. He uses his index and middle fingers to spread your lips apart, displaying your throbbing, drenched, cunt that aches for his attention. He gazes upon you and notes your fucked out expression — a small smirk appearing on his face.

“Is this all for me, hm?” His warm breath blanketing your core as his fingers coat themselves with your wetness, dragging them along your folds and salivating at the sight. You nod as a reply, your nerves anticipating for his next move. His thumb pulls your clitoral hood back and he teases yet again with a soft kiss straight onto the bud.

Your legs fight back, wiggling and writhing underneath him, but he applies pressure onto you, holding you still to the bed. Your core glistens in the small space of the atmosphere, and with that his tongue lays flat and glides up your lips in one lick.

“Ungh, Yoongi!”

It’s the eyes. They will be the death of you, literally. Yoongi glares into your hooded lids as his tongue travels up, down, and all around your core. He continues to eat you out as if it’s his last meal, like the 너비아니 (neobiani) he’d consumed for dinner that same night. Savory, juicy, and full of flavor. He laps and sucks at your clit, making the most obscene noises with his tongue and lips that drive you wild. Your hips grind in rhythm towards his gestures. A shot of vibration flows from below. You realize Yoongi is moaning into you and it’s nearly enough for your orgasm to impend. He pulls away to drop a line of saliva onto your already soaked pussy, he eases his index finger inside of you, your walls calling his name as they continue to contract, drawing his finger in deeper.

“Mmm that’s right, princess. So tight and warm all for me.” His digits slide in and out continuously while rubbing your clit with his thumb. He eases in a second finger, stretching you slightly to prepare you for his member soon. His tongue finds your clit again, flicking and sucking harshly. Your toes naturally begin to curl, your fingers find their path into Yoongi’s strands, pulling tightly.

“I-I’m going to-” Your breath hitches and Yoongi witnesses your reaction, admiring the vision in front of him.

“Cum.” He more-so demands, rather than finishing your sentence for you. His fingers still inside of your cunt, rubbing against that one spot in your walls, with his lips wrapped around your clit.

But again.

It was the sight of those feline eyes, focusing on you, that was enough for your orgasm to crash upon you. Your thighs trembled and shaked violently, while calling out his name, and Yoongi wasn’t sure if it was the wine he’d become drunk off of, but there was a sentiment of nostalgia there. Hearing you murmur his name repeatedly, like it was a daily prayer or mantra. Your walls contracted around his fingers, and he couldn’t place another feeling in the universe that he’d rather feel everyday for the rest of his life and never grow weary of. Observing the blissful expression on your face from his simple gesture of pleasing you, sparked something in him.

Yet, the night advanced with his naked form underneath you. His breathtaking, blonde mane strewn along the bed of which you both laid upon. You distractedly began playing with the strands, admiring how lengthy each fibre was. His cock erect and mushroom tip a deep-rosy shade of color, oozed of precum. He stroked his member as he watched you pet his hair softly, which felt like pure silk.

“Princess?” He slips while loosening his grip from stroking himself. Your eyes meet his, and he’s already smiling softly at you.

“Yes, Emperor Min?” Yoongi snarks at your sudden formality. A smirk re-appearing on his face.

“That’s not what you were just calling me a few minutes ago.” You roll your eyes in return, which results in a harsh smack on your left ass cheek.

“Going to be nice to me, now?”

Your eyebrows furrow in response to the small shock of pain, slightly turned on at the same time. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Hm, good girl.” Yoongi wraps his fingers around his cock, and you take note of how gorgeous it is. He’s not too big and not too small, just right. He rubs his member along your folds, coating his tip and mixing your juices with his precum. You slowly sink yourself down onto him. His hands grip your hips to help ease you down further, and there’s a slight burn from the thickness of him that feels beyond words. He stretches you more than you have been before, and you can’t help but moan his name for the thousandth time. He bucks upwards, giving you the last few inches of himself and he’s buried to the hilt.

“Oh, Princess!” He moans, and it even shocks you. Some part of you feel that it’s the alcohol talking. “Wow, you’re so wet. You feel so good, I don’t want- Fuck. Please don’t leave me. Stay. Stay here with me. I’ll arrange for us a-” he cuts himself off, eyes shutting at the tightness of your pussy wrapped around his shaft.

“Wedding. We’ll get married and have- we’ll have” You move yourself up and come back down, and again. And again. Your hips grind back and forth, sucking his cock inside of you and gliding along your walls. Your head falls back, completely wrapped up in the pleasure of his rock-hard member massaging your walls to the fullest amount of pleasure. He felt amazing, and he still does.

“Children. Many children.” Yoongi bucks back up into you again, gaining some control. And he doesn’t let up, no. For the remainder of the night, he fucked you into oblivion — orgasm after orgasm followed. You’d ended the night, wrapped up in his arms, trembling from overstimulation. But, it wasn’t the first time. It continued this way, every night when he’d drink himself into a pool of lust, and he loved fucking you. You even recalled one night when he couldn’t hold himself any longer yet again and proceeded to screw you from behind at the gates near the entrance of the palace. He slipped your sokgot completely off and bent you over, ramming into you relentlessly, his hand covered your mouth to muffle your moans and groans.

A rush of excitement coursed through you, knowing that the guards could catch the two of you consumed in your lewd actions. The sound of Yoongi’s balls slapping against your ass, echoes within your thoughts as you recall the memory. You remember the stinging sensation from the breeze freezing your ass cheeks mixed with the pleasure of Yoongi’s balls deep inside you.

“Don’t ever want to stop fucking you, my princess.” His hand grips your hair, pulling it back in a rough manner. Your back flushed against his chest as he whispers in your ear, “Have my children.”

With his last few thrusts, your body jerking forward, Yoongi pants as his orgasm crashes upon him. His groin tightens and stiffens itself, streams of his cum spurts deep into your core, coating your insides with nothing but him. He rests his forehead onto your shoulder, his warm breath smothering your cheek, contrasting with the cool, fall weather of the night.

“I love you, dear ____.”

A small sigh of relief escapes your lips. And at this moment, you couldn’t ask for anything else to make you happier, the warmth of Yoongi’s cum seeping from your sore kitty and the sound of his raspy voice causes your heart to flutter, and now you feel like you’re flyin’.

#ficswithluv #plotsofpastel #btsgoldnet #magicshopnet #yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi #yes i really just posted in honor of #agust d2 #yoongi's vocals in #honsool #made me do this #bangtanlalaland

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