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huggingkoalas · 3 months

Text

caught you

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis natasha comes home to find an intruder in her house. the encounter takes an unexpected turn as authority gives way to desire.

word count 2.5k

warnings smut, roleplay, spanking, use of strap-ons, cockwarming, gunplay(?), ‘mommy’ kink, subspace/headspace, cursing, degradation, praising, teasing, pet names, established relationship, bottom!reader, top!natasha

author’s note phew i might've gone too crazy for my first natasha romanoff fic, oops? hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it <3

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As Natasha reached into her pocket, her fingers found the familiar shape of her keys. She unlocked the door to her house with the key, the weariness in her muscles evident as she used more force than usual. She yearned for nothing more than to take a soothing bath and a well-deserved night of sleep after a long day of doing post-mission briefings and reports at the Avengers compound.

As she stepped through the wooden frame and gently closed the door behind her, she effortlessly kicked off her boots and let them fall to the side. She slipped her black leather jacket off her shoulders and laid it temporarily over the back of the sofa. She yawned and massaged her right shoulder with her left arm, groaning as she pressed on the sensitive spot.

It had been another exhausting day. Despite her love for her job as an Avenger, she had to admit that the long missions and overwhelming workload had begun to take its toll on her. The only positive aspect of her job was the joy she brought to children’s faces every time they saw her and called her ‘my favourite hero’. Furthermore, Natasha earned more than enough money to buy a house away from the compound. As much as she liked her team, she favoured the peace of being alone after a long day.

Lost in her thoughts about work, she suddenly felt the cold night breeze whisper against her skin. A moment of confusion etched on her face. Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized the patio doors leading to her backyard were ajar, casting a shadow on the hardwood floors.

Had I forgotten to close it?

I swear I closed it before I left the house.

Natasha walked towards the patio door, closed it and turned the lock firmly. She was not the type to forget things easily. She couldn’t get rid of the persistent feeling that something wasn’t right.

Just as she was about to turn away from the patio door, she noticed a trail of muddy footprints leading into the house from the backyard. Her heart dropped as she realized someone had broken into her home while she was gone. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the intruder in the home with her at the very moment. With careful and silent steps, she traced the trail of prints with her eyes, leading her down the hallway.

Natasha slowly reached behind her back and pulled out her pistol from its concealed position in her waistband. Her mind raced, and adrenaline surged through her veins. Wrapping both her hands around the grip, her index finger rested on the trigger guard, pointing the gun at a slightly downward angle.

She mentally prepared herself for any potential confrontation. She took a deep breath, her senses heightened, and cautiously continued to follow the muddy footprints. The trail led her to her master bedroom, the door firmly closed.

With her back pressed against the adjacent wall, Natasha listened intently for any movement beyond the door. She closed her eyes, straining her ears for any sound. A faint and muffled shuffling sound barely reached her ears. Just as she was open about to the door, she took a long breath, steeling herself for what lay beyond her.

“Freeze!” She called out, pushing the door open with a swift turn of the doorknob. Her voice was authoritative and firm as she stared at the intruder, her hands maintaining a firm grip on the pistol.

Realization flashed across her face momentarily as she recognized the intruder’s face, though she masked it well. Caught off guard, you looked up with widened eyes as you saw Natasha pointing a gun at you. You raised your hands in mock surrender, standing tall with your head held high.

“It’s not what it looks like.” You tried to explain, steadying your nerves.

“Put your hands behind your back, now.” Natasha commanded, her tone unwavering as she ignored your attempts at explaining yourself.

You slowly lowered your hands and placed them behind your back. You didn’t seem daunted by the situation in the least. Natasha maintained a stern expression, lowering her pistol and holstering it back in her waistband.

She stepped forward, her expression hinting at a momentary diversion of her thoughts. The dim light from the window accentuated your features, and she found herself momentarily captivated by your beauty. Her gaze lingered for an extra beat. She couldn’t deny that you looked mesmerizing and absolutely ravishing.

“What’s your name?” Natasha inquired, her tone assertive but curious.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” Natasha repeated. “You don’t seem afraid at all.”

She stopped in front of you. As you subtly shifted your stance, your hair cascaded gracefully over one shoulder, giving her a whiff of your sweet vanilla perfume. Tension lingered between you as you met her gaze through lowered lashes.

Your eyes briefly travelled down, and you couldn’t help but notice a bulge between Natasha’s pants. A subtle swallow and a discreet bite of your bottom lip betrayed the mutual awareness of the heightened tension. You could see the impressive girth outlined through her pants. Her breath hitched as she saw the lust and need reflecting in your eyes.

“Face the wall.” Natasha ordered, ignoring the tension between the both of you.

A smile on your lips formed as an idea appeared in your head. You stepped closer to her, leaving no space between you two. You turned around, with your hands still behind your back, leaning back to press your ass to her groin.

“Guess you’ll have to arrest me like this, miss...?” You glanced over your shoulder, asking for her name.

“Natasha.” She responded with a shaky breath, her hands aching to grab your hips and press you against her. She tried to resist the urge to give in to her impulses, trying to maintain her professional demeanour.

Your breathing became laboured, your lips parting slightly. You reached behind your back and reached for Natasha’s bulge, feeling the outline of the strap-on. She groaned, a ‘fuck’ escaping her lips as she grabbed your hips and pressed your ass against her groin harder, giving in to the temptation.

“Such a fucking slut.” Natasha’s eyes were a mix of authority and desire.

“N-Nat-” You knew she’d be hot and bothered by your actions, but-

She leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to your temple. “Shut up.” She whispered hotly in your ear. “Take your clothes off, now.”

You wasted no time removing your clothes, letting them fall around your legs as you kept your panties on. Natasha sat down on the edge of the king-size bed and patted her lap.

“Over my lap.” Her voice was void of emotion, and her words hit you like a bucket of ice water. You knew what was happening next and obeyed without saying a word, fear creeping into your stomach. Your stomach rested on her lap, your head and legs dangling beside her thighs. The rough fabric of her pants hitting your clothed folds made you shiver, your cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

She ran her hands over the curve of your ass, her touch light as a feather along the seam where flesh met lace. The delicacy of her touch caused goosebumps to form on your skin.

“I think you deserve ten spanks, don’t you agree?” Natasha retorted. It was a rhetorical question and you didn’t have the confidence to turn her down anyway.

She lifted your hips to push your panties down to your knees, trapping your thighs closed. Her hands, which had been so gentle a moment before, dug roughly into your ass, leaving crescent-shaped impressions on your skin.

A powerful smack echoed, and you arched forward with the force of it against your ass. Natasha’s thumb rubbed over your red and sore cheek. You tried to keep track of how many smacks she had given you so far, but after the third smack, your thoughts became blank as you moaned uncontrollably. As much of a punishment as it was, you couldn’t deny that you liked it when she spanked you. Even your hips pushed into her hands during each blow.

“I wish you could see yourself right now. Making a mess all over my thigh while I spank you like the naughty girl you are.” Natasha chuckled, finishing the last few blows on your bright red flesh. Taking a deep breath, you grit your teeth against the red-hot pain emanating from your ass.

“Such a good little slut for mommy.” She kneaded the supple flesh and leaned down to treat each of your cheeks to a kiss. “You did so well for me, good girl.”

You squirmed fruitlessly under her touch, whimpering as the sticky juices ran down your thighs. “M-Mommy..” You whispered, trying to angle your hips against her thigh to give yourself some pleasure.

“You’re not cumming on my thigh. On your knees for me, milaya devushka (sweet girl).” Her voice was honey-like, her hands gently scratching over your scalp. Her soothing touch lulled you slowly, and you hummed in response.

Releasing yourself from her lap, you knelt before her, her knees spread on either side of you. You steadfastly refused to acknowledge the pain beneath your flesh. The rough carpet dug into your knees, but the thought of obeying her was all that mattered to you.

Natasha stood up, quickly removing her clothes and tossing them aside. Your eyes looked up at her submissively, and your mouth salivated as your gaze fell on the strap-on around her waist. She sat back down, spreading her legs and pushing you closer to her body. Neither of you spoke, the room falling silent apart from the ticking sounds of the clock and steady breathing. She watches your body relax the longer you kneel for her, sensing the moment you slip into subspace.

“Do you know what cockwarming is, detka (baby)?” You nod slowly and open your lips, darting your tongue out. Natasha guides her length between them, and you moan at the heaviness of it, resting your cheek against her thigh. Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes flutter shut. She watches you in your kneeling position, noticing your body swaying unconsciously.

She holds her body upright with an elbow behind her back, running her fingers through your hair. Your thighs ache, and your mouth is full of saliva, but eventually, you begin to relax into her.

“Good girl.” Natasha whispers, the praise slipping from her lips. She almost purrs with satisfaction as she feels you melt further into her. “So perfect for me.”

You don’t know how long you stay on your knees with her in your mouth. You whine as she begins to take your mouth from her, your fingers digging into her skin, trying to hold her in place as you swallow back her length.

“Shhh... It’s alright, you’ve done great.” Natasha smiles and brushes her thumb over your cheek. You let her pull you off of her and bring you into her lap.

You tuck your face into her neck, whining as you slowly release from the subspace. You begin to realize yourself aching with emptiness, and you whimper as her strap brushes against the sensitive, soaked skin between your thighs. You begin rocking in her lap slowly.

“Shit, so wet for me, hmm?” Natasha drops her hands to your hips and lets you rut down against her lap, grunting as your breasts bounce in her face as you move. She leans down and sucks one between her lips, grazing her teeth against the hardening nub softly.

“P-Please, Mommy.” You whine, arching against her. She nods as she reaches between the both of you to wrap her hand around the silicone. Soaked in your arousal and saliva, the both of you moan as she presses the head of the strap-on into your entrance.

Natasha cups your face and guides you into a kiss as she begins pressing inside, and you moan into her open mouth as she stretches you, the length thick and hard and hot as it sinks inside of you.

“Fuck, dorogaya (sweetheart). You’re so tight for me.” She murmurs, and you’re heavily panting as you settle in her lap, her length nestled fully inside you.

Clenching the walls of your pussy a few times, you groan as Natasha holds your hips, raising you on your shaking legs before dropping you back down on her length.

“Nat, I need… Please…” You can’t find the word to explain the way your thighs shake from exertion, or how your whole body feels like fucking jelly, but Natasha knows, she always does.

“I’ve got you, malyshka (babygirl).” Natasha murmurs. You whimper as she wraps her hands around your thighs. She helps you rise and fall on her length, thrusting her hips up quickly and deeper to meet you as you fall back down. She kisses you, lips wet and hot as both of your bodies are covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You can’t seem to think of anything else past the haze of arousal.

“M-Mommy, I’m close.” You whimper, and she drops her mouth to your neck, her tongue and lips sucking and her teeth biting. She breathes hotly against your neck, against the mark she’s just made.

You whimper and drop your forehead onto her shoulder, closing your eyes and moistening your lips. You’re sliding along her sweaty skin as she fucks you hard and fast, her fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as she helps you rise and-

“Cum for me, moya lyubov’ (my love).” Your breath comes in short gasps as Natasha wraps an arm around your waist and pulls your body as close to her as she can.

“Oh God-” You moan and cum hard, your whole body shaking as she continues to fuck you, splitting you open. Natasha trembles beneath you as you writhe above her. Breathing sharply, she murmurs words of comfort and praise to you as you tremble in her arms, coming down from your high.

Natasha lifts you from her lap and lays you gently on the bed. You hiss as you feel a hint of pain as she slides off of you. She lies down next to you and looks at you, giggling as she looks at your face after your orgasm.

“Well, that was something. I never thought you’d have it in you to try out one of my fantasies.” You smile softly and turn your head towards her.

Natasha laughs, and the sweet sound echoes through the room. “Well, I want to please you, detka (baby). Did you like it?”

“Of course.” You reach forward to stroke her cheek and kiss her gently. Natasha pulls back and presses her forehead against yours, sighing in happiness. “Can't deny that it was really hot when you were acting all commanding and authoritative to me though.”

Natasha's shakes her head, smirking. “Alright, weirdo. Get some sleep.”

“Yes, Mommy.” You teased, sticking your tongue out playfully.

After a few minutes of synchronized breathing, exhaustion catches up to you. Your breathing slows down and you fall asleep. Natasha pulls the covers over you, snuggling against your side and splaying an arm across your waist.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” She whispers in your ear, a soft smile on her lips as she falls asleep next to her beloved.

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#lumi’s fics!#marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #smut #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

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cherryredstars · 4 months

Text

18+, NSFW, Boot Humping, Semi-Blowjob

Thinking about John Price and him making his cute, young girlfriend break in his new military boots before he goes off to deployment again :((

He's perched on the sofa, a beer bottle in hand as the television plays rugby at a low volume. The denim of his jeans stretches over his thighs, tightening at his knees as he spreads his legs wide. The hair on his upper body is exposed, chest covered in dark strands and a thick happy trail below the pudge of his stomach. He isn't even paying attention to you, eyes set on the tele as he sips from his beer every now and then. His bottom lip shines from the television light when he pulls the bottle away, tongue swiping over it to collect the beer.

The sight makes you whine, your hips moving over the top of his boot. You've completely soaked through your white panties, making them translucent as they stick to your cunt. The soft, frantic sound of fabric rubbing against leather is almost drowned out by the match and your noises, and John grunts whenever your whining gets too loud. Thin, white lines are scratched into John's jeans as you claw at them, trying to stabilize yourself as you hump his shoe. Your cunt drags against the material, streaks of arousal painting and softening the leather. Whenever your clothed clit grazes the rough ropes of his laces, you cry out, body jumping slightly. Your knees burn slightly from digging into the floor to sit over his shoe, but the slight pain is nothing compared to your desperate attempts to get off.

Your head rests on his leg, whining and moaning as you try to get the right angle and speed. When you turn your head you can see the defined outline of his chub straining against his pants, making your head dizzy. You can't help but whine, pawing at it as you move your hips. It makes John hiss, finally looking away from his game to look down at you.

"Please," you whimper up at him, your hand still pressing into his erection. Price chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you in question as he takes another sip of his beer.

"Please what, doll? Can't read ya' mind y'know," John teases, and his hand slides down your face, relishing the way you instantly lean into his touch with fucked-out eyes.

"I want it in my mouth, please," you practically cry. Your hips press harder into his shoe at the visual playing in your mind, and you almost cry out in joy when he gives you a lazy smile as he begins to unzip his pants.

His hand slips through the band of his jeans and boxers, fishing out his cock. He's thick with bulging veins and a mushroom tip that's red and leaking. He can't help the chuckle he lets out as your eyes stare at it half-mast. Your mouth parts slightly as he slowly pumps himself, getting himself nice and hard. You reach out, taking over as his hand pulls away. You press yourself against his leg, whining as you're only able to reach his tip from the position he's in. His leg stops you from moving any further as it presses hard against your chest, but if you were to readjust on his shoe, you would lose the perfect angle you're in to stimulate your clit. John groans as he watches you struggle to suck him off properly while riding his shoe, the rugby match long forgotten.

Your head bobs sloppily, whining around his tip as you try to lick up the precum that he leaks out. As your hips move, he slips from your mouth every now and then, causing you to repeatedly suck him back into your mouth desperately. John hisses, hand coming to tangle in your hair as he throws his head back with a curse. You can feel your peak approaching as you stare up at him, pulling away from his cock as you moan out. You refocus all your energy on bucking your hips, mouth dropped open and noises reaching a higher octave with each movement.

When your clit skids over his laces again, your body tenses up. Your nails sink into his thigh, trying to keep yourself steady as you finish. Your body jumps slightly, feeling more wetness spill into your panties. Your movements get slower as you try to ride out your high, panting heavily as you call out John's name. John has this dark, hungry look in his eyes as he watches you come down, his cock twitching. When your movements finally stop, you slump into his leg, cheek resting on his knee as you look up at him. John's hand comes down to you, petting your hair and you smile gently as you close your eyes.

But, right as you think you've finished your job, John yanks your hair so you look up at him.

"Don't get too comfortable, babe. Still got another shoe ya' gotta break in f'me."

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utterlyotterlyx · 3 months

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A Fate Inked In Starlight

Part Four

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are, or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.

Warnings - memory loss, you being kinda bad ass, blood, swearing, angst, allusions to death, tension

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five

Muscle memory.

Cassian had told you about it, he had told you how his muscles were able to remember every move and angle, every swipe and weight that he needed to put behind a punch when he had been out of training for too long. Muscles had memory, they were able to find their way back to where they needed to be.

It had been a week before Cassian had asked you to train with him, well, not so much as asked but told you. You didn't have much of a choice. You had agreed, you had pushed it back as much as possible, but Cassian was getting grumpy with you to the point he'd stopped bringing you your morning chocolate pastries. It was getting a little dire.

Cassian knew it was futile to try and send Nesta or Azriel to you, to convince you to start training, all you needed to do was smile at them and they'd crumble, forgetting completely about why exactly they had been sent to fetch you. It had bought you a few more days.

The next step was to deprive you of the damned chocolate croissants. You went nuts for them as much as Nyx did, and the Inner Circle would come downstairs often to find you and the little one curled up on the sofa eating those sweet pastries. Cassian was happy to report that the removal of those treats was enough to get you to agree to a training session the next morning.

It wasn't like you were happy about it, but hey, chocolate filled pastries made you happy, and you wanted more of them.

"Don't sulk," Azriel spoke to you from the plush surface of your bay window, giving you a sidelong glance when you appeared from the bathroom in the training leathers that Nesta had given to you, tugging at the cuffs and waist of the fabric to pull it into place.

"I'm not sulking," he looked to you pointedly as you picked up your leather holsters, frowning at them and holding them up to your waist, "Maybe a little," you shrugged, putting your hand through the large gap, struggling to figure out how exactly they worked, "I'm only doing this for Nyx."

"Sure you are," Azriel smirked, that devilish grin that always seemed to find his lips. His wings were neatly tucked behind him, elbows on his knees, face in his scarred palms. A spurt of water splashed his face and he blinked in surprise, noting your matching smirk and little curtsey, "Mature."

Cassian had a feeling that you were a warrior of some kind before you fell into Prythian and lost your memories, he was sure of it actually, from the curve of your muscles to the peeled callouses on your hands, even your eyes told a million stories. Ones he'd very much like to hear one day.

Azriel wiped the small droplets from his face and stood from his seat, crossing the room and holding his hand out at you. He towered over you, he consumed you in shadow so dark that the sunlight wasn't able to pierce through and hold you. Tendrils of hell-black shadow curled around your unbound hair, they curled over your shoulders and shuddered in adoration at your warmth, you'd gotten used to it quickly and almost sought out their innocent affection. "Give it to me," he motioned to the holster, not even bothering to reign his shadows back to him, he knew they wouldn't listen. It was a waste of time.

You hadn't told anyone how your nightmares had transformed into more vivid dreams, you no longer woke up screaming clutching at your raw throat, instead, your dreams awoke you to those same purple eyes that said nothing and simply watched you. You were sure if you told anyone they'd think you were beyond mad

Azriel dropped to his knees before you after you had handed the leather straps over to him, he lay them on the floor and tapped your leg softly, a sign for you to step into the holes. He grasped at the edges and began to pull them up your legs, his fingers brushing your sides and inner thighs before shimmying them over your hips, looking down on you with a shit-eating grin, "Was that so hard?" Azriel's eyes turned a shade darker, his breath drifted over your face and you shook your head softly as he fastened the buckle, "Mhm."

Heat rose to your cheeks and you looked away quickly, hoping that he didn't see, but of course, you knew he did. Azriel was spymaster of the Night Court for a reason.

"Come on," you strode for the door, throwing it open and allowing a whoosh of cold air to flood your bedroom, "Cassian probably thinks I've bailed again."

To Cassian's surprise, you had actually shown up.

The Lord of Bloodshed leaned against a stone block, his face dipped in a scowl, convinced that you were all talk. But then you had arrived, clad in Nesta's leathers, hair unbound which you were raking back with your fingers, tying it up messily on the back of your head, with Azriel striding after you.

He had decided not to make a comment about your tardiness, upon Nesta's request, his mate had taken quite a liking to you to the point of growling at him when he had made a joke about you.

Nesta had told you bits about training whilst you both read in one of the seating rooms at the House of Wind, where she and Cassian lived and you had visited often to pluck books from its library and find some comfort in them. She had told you that Cassian would most likely be tough on you, he was tough on everyone, but it was a good thing, he wanted to push people to be the best they could be.

You and Cassian had sparred for an hour, your muscles ached from blocking his punches and hitting the ground, hair had fallen from your poor excuse of a bun and dirt coated the side of your face from one particularly rough takedown, you were tired of it.

Azriel watched you closely from his perch, calling out corrections to you which you had tried to implement but it always ended in Cassian flooring you.

Ready to voice your readiness to return to the townhouse, a glint caught the corner of your eye, a shimmering sparkle that pulled your attention to the racks of weapons to your right. Without a word to Cassian, you dropped your arms to your sides and approached it, scouring the array of lethal weapons that lined the hooks until you found that one that had pulled you there.

Black rope was wound around one of the arms, holding two iridescent onyx hooked blades, sharp enough to inflict untold damage. Reaching for them, you grasped at the bundles of rope and held them in an open palm, turning slightly as your hand adjusted to the weight. It felt odd but it also felt right. So right.

The two Illyrians watched you with intrigue, they watched as you let the bundles of rope zip from your fingers, they watched the two blades sway at your sides, and they watched your free hand move to grip a free section level with your abdomen. Familiarity burned within you, and they saw it rear its wondering head to them.

They swung slowly at first, in lazy circles as you adjusted to the feelings, and then your movements increased until they were dizzying spheres whipping around your body by your perfectly arched hands. Your stance had changed, one foot planted in front of the other and they watched you in awe, the shéng biāo was a difficult weapon to master, to the point that even Cassian and Azriel steered away from it, but there you were, weaving it around your body with perfect control like it was nothing.

Then you had stopped, a large grin falling over your face and you looked to Cassian, holding the weapon in the palms of your hands, "Muscle memory, right?"

Azriel jumped down from his perch and clapped Cassian on the shoulder, the latter being too stunned to speak whilst Azriel approached you, "Who knew that the Little Flower is a shéng biāo master?" He teased, you wrapped the rope around the indent of your thumb to your elbow until it was neat and compact, placing it back on its ledge. "You just keep on surprising me."

"Is that a bad thing?" You asked, turning back to him with your arms folded over your chest.

"No," he smiled, "Not in the slightest."

It took Cassian a few moments to return to earth, too dumbfounded to waltz back into his body any sooner, he still couldn't form coherent words, simply muttering that Rhys would love the show you had just put on in wielding one of the most formidable weapons in the entire of Prythian.

Keir had insisted upon a meeting with the entirety of the Inner Circle, with all of the High Lords actually. It sounded more like a party, but anything to do with Keir felt like all work and no play, Rhys had told you.

Rhys had told you that Eris would be there, that he was constantly asking about you without ever actually asking you. Nesta said he wanted to give you space, that he thought that he was the problem, and you wished more than anything that he would know how wrong he was.

You missed Eris, and Duke. You missed the warm autumn sun pooling into your pores. You missed the hues of gold and orange that coated the midline of Autumn. You missed the roaring fires and Eris' arms wrapped around you as he shushed you back into slumber. You missed the sound of his heartbeat and that intoxicating scent of burnt orange, caramel and pine that washed all of your worries away. You missed him.

You had insisted that they all go, that even if it was more work than play, that they deserved a night away to let loose a little, you'd happily stay and care for Nyx. It was Amren that usually stayed behind in these situations, but you were adamant that they should all go, to have a night without Nyx as a family and leave you to take care of everything else.

They had all filed out of the townhouse door, dressed in the most spectacular outfits that you could only dream to own. Feyre had thanked you with a kiss to the cheek before excitedly rushing from the house, linking arms with Lucien and pulling him and Elain down the winding garden path with loud laughter emitting from her lips.

"If you need us just shout," his finger drifted to your temple, "Shout to me and we'll come back," he told you with a warm smile and fond eyes.

Rhys had been just as dumbfounded as Cassian when he heard of your talent with the shéng biāo, the rope dart as he called it, even Rhys found it too difficult to wield, always slicing open his calves whenever he had tried in the past. It was becoming more obvious that your story was a deep one, one with many layers that he was invested in uncovering.

After your conversation with Feyre, you had immersed yourself with life in Velaris, you had joined their family dinners and chimed into conversations with quirky anecdotes and other-worldly questions, you had joined Mor and Feyre on a shopping trip where they had insisted on buying you everything you had laid eyes on, citing that you were like a breath of fresh air to their family so deserved to be treated like one of them. Elain had taught you to bake and you had spent time in her garden, it reminded you of the gardens of Fir Manor, and you allowed your water to extend from your fingertips and into the earth, licking the roots and bringing them to life.

Rhys had taken you to the Sidra, Amren allowed you into her apartment, and Nesta sat and read with you nightly, and you often became lost in conversation with her about characters and plots with the occasional argument of who should end up with who.

The High Lord pulled his finger from your temple, the warm patch turning cold as he stalked from the house after his mate. Jumbled garble entered your ears, Azriel walked up to you dressed in his fighting leathers, bouncing Nyx in his arms, walking so slowly that it felt like he didn't want to leave, only handing over the babe once you had reached out for him.

"You take care of her, Nyx," he took Nyx's tiny hand between his fingers and shook it gently before looking up at you, "If you need anything-"

"I'll scream loud enough for the entire of Prythian to hear," you bounced Nyx on your hip, turning your head to place your nose in his hair and inhale that beautiful smell that made your stomach coil with blissful want. "Go. And try not to be so serious."

Azriel held his hands up as he backed out of the room and into the night, "I can't promise anything."

He kept his gaze on you, walking backward down the path and toward the loud billowing voices that awaited him. You looked incredible, the light of the entryway curving around your figure, you were dressed in a navy blue velvet dress with soft ballooned shoulders and gold thread tied into a neat bow at your lower back, the skirt fell to your ankles and you wore black pumps on your feet. It was like Velaris had taken root within you and blossomed in your soul.

It took a lot to make him turn from you, to stop imagining you stood there holding your own child, his child, in your arms.

Feyre sent him a knowing look which was followed by a soft squeeze of her hand on his forearm before they winnowed away, leaving you all alone with her most prized possession.

Your evening with Nyx had been nothing short of magical.

You had baked together, a certain type of cupcake that Elain had taught you to make, and a tiny flour covered hand print rested on your cheek. You had read to him, a tale of fearsome warriors, dragons, and love. You had eaten the chocolate croissants Cassian had returned with that afternoon, telling him that you knew that his uncle would give in eventually.

And then he had gotten tired, his little mouth contorting into heart clenching yawns. It was then that you gathered him into your arms and put him to bed, humming softly to him as he drifted off and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before slipping from the room with a click of the door.

You lingered in the hallway, gazing at the paintings that lined the walls, Feyre's paintings, that told stories of her emotions, swirls of colour and shading perfectly depicting her home and love for everything within it.

The journey back to the living area felt strange, like something was telling you to stop and turn back, to not go down there. Goosebumps sparked across your flesh and an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of your stomach. A shrill chill swarmed around you, gusts of draughty air blowing through the house, pushing you, pleading you to be anywhere else.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you saw why.

Facing you were two cloaked figures, huge, snarling things shrouded in the shadow of their hoods. They drowned you with their stature, large creatures that stank of blood and decaying flesh.

Gloved hands reached for the crystal hilted knives in their holsters and they brandished them to you, a clear threat, "We almost didn't believe the whispers of Tiamat falling into this cesspit of a world," a voice hissed, it was gargled, like he was choking on thick blood, and low enough to make you hunch inward.

"Is the babe asleep? We would hate for him to miss this," the other forked, a serpentine poison laced to the more feminine words. A male and female.

In instinct, you locked your hand around the wooden railing of the stairs, your chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, your eyes were wide with fear, you hands were clammy and body trembling, "You will not touch him," your words managed to fall from your lips, calm and stoic as you attempted to search the room for the nearest weapon; a sword that hung in a cabinet to the side of the fireplace.

"I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to stop that, sweet Tiamat."

Silence.

A single beat of it.

Then they lunged for you.

Twirling on your heel, you managed to dodge the grip of the male to only be tackled over the edge of the armchair by the other, she sent you toppling to the floor, and you smashed your hip into the corner of the coffee table with brutal force. There was no time to focus on that.

You scrambled against the wood, pulling yourself along the floorboards whilst she dug her talons into your calves, ripping through the muscle and inhaling the scent of your blood deeply, purring at it.

With little effort, she pulled you backward, gripping the waist of your dress and tossing you into the glass cabinet like it was nothing. It smashed at the impact, shards of glass embedding into your back, and you fell to the floor with a thud, "What happened to you? I expected more of a fight," she kicked your leg, pulling groaning whimpers from your mouth, "It's alright," she cooed, tucking escaped strands of hair behind your ear before plunging her knife into abdomen, ignoring your screams and the blood seeping through the navy blue of your dress, "I'll tell them that you fought, I'll tell them that they were too late," she dug it in deeper, summoning guttural pants from your chest.

Blood. So much blood. So much liquid.

Liquid.

Gasping, you wrapped your hand around her wrist, driving her dagger deeper through you, feeling the beat of her pulse under her flesh. You dug your fingers into that spot, tapping into that power and allowing it to slow her blood down whilst spandrils of water flowed from your fingers and up her arms, across her face, and into her eyes and mouth.

The thing sputtered on top of you, understanding that whilst her blood was slowing to a stop, that she was always drowning in your grip. Then she fell to the side with blue lips and her alabaster skin peeked through the hood of her cloak, rippling with grey veins.

Nyx.

You cried out, using the edge of the table as a support to stand. The other one didn't move, he simply watched you, you could hear that rotten smirk through the darkness, and your hunched body tensed as he began to move to the stairs. Without thinking, you tore the blade from your abdomen, you ignored the searing pain that cut through your body, and you threw that knife at him with sterling precision. It embedded itself straight into the back of his head and he dropped to the floor with a thud.

Blood ran down your legs, footsteps of bright red signalled where you were going as you clutched your stomach and hauled yourself up the stairs after ripping the knife from your attackers stiff fingers.

You could have cried when you saw Nyx still asleep in his cot, sleeping so deeply that whatever had occurred downstairs didn't wake him.

A sob escaped you and you slid down the side of his cot, an arm wrapped around your abdomen, your hand clutching the crystal hilted blade which was pointed at the closed door.

Rhys had felt it. He had felt that something was gravely wrong.

Wild, wide eyes signalled to his family that they had to leave and fuck the consequences. Nesta had been talking to Eris when she felt Cassian's hand on the small of her back, his lips by her ear telling her that they all had to go. That something was wrong.

Eris refused to be left behind, he had spent every day thinking of you, and he knew that if Rhys was rattled then whatever they would return to Velaris to find could be monstrous. Rhys hadn't cared when Eris had followed them from the room, he hadn't cared when Lucien had grasped his upper arm and winnowed him into Velaris.

Rhys and Feyre stood frozen into place, it was Azriel that bolted to the slightly ajar front door of the townhouse with Cassian and Nesta in tow.

The room was flipped, furniture thrown across the space, broken glass covered in blood, and pools of that thick red liquid dotted about the space with bare footprints inked in it trailing toward and up the stairs.

Two bodies lay there in the darkness, one pale and blue lipped, the other with a large hunting knife shoved through the back of his head that protruded from his mouth. The rest of the inner circle entered the room, quietly surveying the place that was not lit with its usual fire that you had always refused to let go out, it was cold, it was tainted.

Azriel ran. He ran up the stairs, he followed those bloody footsteps. He prayed to the mother that they were yours and that you hadn't been taken. He prayed with everything in him that those steps didn't belong to another attacker, he prayed that they hadn't reached Nyx.

The Shadowsinger burst through the door of Nyx's bedroom, frantic and wild, and completely uncontrolled. He froze in his place in the doorway, he froze as his hazel gaze found you sat in a pool of your own blood, pale and shaking, a knife in your free hand, and a little handprint dusted onto your cheek.

Footsteps followed him and he felt the fire at his side, the male choked and rushed to you, sliding onto his knees through your blood and cupping your hazed face in his hands, "I didn't let them touch him," you rasped, "I'd never let anyone touch him."

Feyre and Rhys appeared next, exhaling with relief before finding you. You were barely keeping your eyes open, Azriel could feel how cold you were from his place in the door, "Little Flower," Eris called to you softly, and Azriel hated how it made him feel to see you turn your eyes to Eris and crumble, "You're okay, you did great. Nyx is fine."

Rhys moved to you as you weakly asked, "Nyx is fine?"

The High Lord took your limp hand in his, he slid the knife away from you, "Nyx is fine, Flora. He's okay. You protected him."

Nesta's eyes were wide, emotion flowed through her as her bottom lip wobbled at the sight of you, she wanted to reach for you, but instead she moved to Nyx and bundled the sleeping babe up in her arms, removing him from the room in case he awoke and saw it all, all of your blood that stained the carpet like the Sidra along the riverbank.

"Call for Madja, Mor," she nodded quickly and darted down the hallway, Rhys moved to scoop you up but you cried out in agonising pain and he flinched, retracting his hands from you.

Your body was covered in scratches, your flesh was ripped apart and shard of glass were embedded in your back, long tears sliced up your calves. It was incredible how you were still conscious.

"Little Flower," Eris called again but softer, he coaxed your attention and you reached for him, your bloody thumb staining his chin.

"You're here," you whispered with drowsy exhaustion, too weak to keep your fingers on him for a moment longer.

"Of course I'm here," he placed a kiss into your hair and ran his fingers across your face, allowing small licks of fire to warm your skin.

Then your gaze moved upward toward the open door, you looked at him and it broke him more, he moved to you and knelt to your level, "Az. It hurts," your voice broke.

"Let me move you, let me fix you," he felt Eris' eyes on him but he didn't care, not for one second, and when you nodded, he had never been so careful in holding anything in his life.

He held you in his arms, not caring for the glass that was breaking through his skin, he looked to Rhys with a darkness in his eyes that his High Lord had never seen before, he growled, "Find who did this before I wage war on every single court in Prythian."

Rhys had no words, he simply silently nodded and watched as his brother took care with each step he took from the room so that you didn't whimper in his arms, leaving his High Lord behind stood in a pool of your blood with the crystal hilt of the dagger dancing in the moonlight.

Authors Note

It's here!!

Pretty please let me know your thoughts! 🤍

Taglist

sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone 🥺

@acourtofbatboydreams @glitterypirateduck @isaxbella749 @aactuaaltraash @blackgirlmagicforever @imma-too-many-fandoms @b1ravenclaw @tsumsamu @donttellthecats @glaciuswduo @mybestfriendmademe @daardyrnitta @cleverzonkwombatsludge @sevikas-whore

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wzrd-wheezes · 2 months

Note

okie but like situationship with sirius black where they just come out of fucking and then go back to the party, but this time, the usually detached sirius is just like all over her even after, making sure she's okay, getting jealous of other guys talking to her, and then at the end, he self-evaluates and then just goes : *jesus fuck i'm in love.*

(totally cool if u don't wanna do it)

Get to the point - Sirius Black x Reader.

AN - I wasn't originally intending on writing this as smut but I couldn't resist it. I hope that you enjoy anyway. Thank you so much for requesting <3

Warnings: smut. nothing too intense really.

1.7k words.

It started the same way as it always did. Throughout the evening, they navigated with practiced avoidance, each sticking to their own circle of friends as if the other were invisible. Then, as the night wore on, and they had both had too much to drink too quickly one of them would catch the other staring at them. Sirius, often the instigator, would watch her from across the room with such intensity that she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. When she would eventually give in and meet his gaze, he would shoot a knowing wink at her and jerk his head towards the door. Tonight was no different,

Y/N was sat nestled between two of her friends, both of them nattering away to god-knows-who. She absently swilled the remnants of her drink around in her cup before tipping it back and draining the last dregs of it. Over the top of her cup, she finally allowed herself to look at him, breaking her self-imposed rule of avoiding his gaze too often. She had been careful not to let it linger too long and give him the satisfaction of catching her staring.

Sirius always looked good, but tonight, she couldn’t deny that he looked better than usual. Although, she suspected that that could have been the alcohol talking. The dimly lit room only seemed to enhance his sharp features – the curve of his lips, the angle of his jaw. His hair fell effortlessly over his eyes as he tipped his head down to light a cigarette. Caught in the act of watching him, she noticed the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Without hesitation, he strode over, cigarette dangling from his lips and a self-assured grin on his face.

“This must be a new record, eh?” he grinned, settling himself on the sofa beside her. She hadn’t even noticed her friends slipping away, too captivated by him. “Party’s barely started and you’re already giving me the eyes from across the room.”

“Hardly.” she countered, staring down into her cup as if she was willing it to magically refill itself, “Trust me, you’re not that interesting to look at, Black.”

He was, and they both knew it. With a knowing smile, he just rolled his eyes and took a drag on his cigarette.

“Want a refill?” he offered, reaching into the inner pocket of his leather jacker and producing a hip flask. She accepted it immediately. It was so stereotypically Sirius – silver and ornate, his initials engraved on the front.

“Cheers.” she unscrewed the top and tipped the contents of it into her cup.

“Just polish it off, why don’t you?” he laughed.

“I need it if you’re going to sit here and pester me,” she remarked dryly, “it makes you tolerable.”

“Oh, how you wound me.” Sirius sighed dramatically, his hand clutching his chest theatrically, “We both know you’ve been waiting for me to come over, darling.”

“Waiting, dreading - same thing really.” she sipped her drink. Whatever it was Sirius had in that flask burned as it went down, warming her chest up.

“You look good tonight.” Sirius ignored her comment, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer towards him, “Always look so pretty for me, don’t you?”

“Oh, please.” she chuckled softly, shifting slightly in his embrace, “Don’t let that ego of yours grow any bigger. It’s already suffocating.

Sirius, undeterred by her comment, persisted, gently brushing her hair away from her ear and leaning in close. His warm breath tickled her skin, her breath caught in her throat as she felt his lips graze her earlobe.

“Shall we keep playing this game or shall we get to the point?” he whispered, softly kissing her neck.

"You’re insufferable, you know that?” she sighed, but she couldn’t deny the smile that crept on her lips. Once again, draining the contents of her cup, she rose to her feet.

“Eager, are we?” Sirius teased, taking her hand in his and dragging her through the crowds of people.

After stumbling into multiple bedrooms that were already occupied by other couples in various stages of undress, they eventually ended up in the bathroom. Sirius swiftly locked the door behind them, leaning against it as he looked Y/N up and down.

“Funny. You don’t usually go to great measures to make sure we don’t get disturbed.” Y/N mused.

Sirius just shrugged, crossing the room until he was standing in front of her. His hands quickly found her waist and he backed her up against the counter, lifting her up until she was comfortably perched on the edge. Roughly, Sirius pushed her legs apart, creating a gap for him to stand in. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling her towards him. He let out a groan as he let his lips collide with hers for the first time that night.

“Been thinking about doing this all night.” he grumbled, his lips brushed against hers as he spoke. Y/N just smiled, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and biting down on in gently.

Sirius’s fingers fumbled with her trousers, shifting them down her legs until the pooled in a pile on the floor. He dropped down to his knees, his fingers kneading the flesh of her thighs as he kissed his way up towards her core. For a moment, he hovered over her underwear, leaving her waiting in anticipation for a second before sliding them off and slipping them into the back pocket of his jeans. He ate her out like a man starved, head buried between her thighs as he lapped at her desperately. Y/N’s head tipped back to rest against the mirror behind her, her eyes screwing up in pleasure as Sirius slipped one, then two fingers inside of her. He loved watching her reactions, it stroked his ego somewhat, seeing how good he made her feel, how easy it was to make her fall apart. She gasped when he pressed his fingers upwards, sucking softly on her clit as he did so.

“There’s those pretty noises I like,” he murmured, pulling back to look at her. His chin was glistening with her wetness, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand as he stood up, “Always get so wet for me, don’t you?”

Y/N only nodded, watching him as he expertly undid his belt with one hand, the other still planted firmly between her legs. Sirius took his cock out, stroking it for a few seconds while he let his eyes roam over Y/N’s face.

“Please, Sirius.” she whispered, biting down on her bottom lip.

More than happy to oblige, Sirius resumed his previous position standing between her legs. Deciding to tease her for a few moments more, he slowly ran the head of his cock up and down her folds. With one quick movement, he pushed inside her, groaning lowly as she wrapped around him. He quickly found his rhythm, they had done this so many times before that he knew exactly how to make her come undone for him.

Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him forwards so that his forehead was resting against her own. She kissed him deeply as he fucked her, Sirius took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth when she let out a particularly loud moan. Their teeth clashed together as Sirius’s thrusts got more and more rough. The room was filled with the sound of his hips snapping against hers as they both chased their highs.

Sensing that she was getting closed, Sirius slipped out of her, barely giving her time to protest and he pulled her to her feet. He spun her around, lifting one of her legs up on the counter to give him some leverage. As he entered her again, he pulled her hair, adjusting her gaze so that she was looking at him through the mirror.

“Want you to look at me when you cum, pretty girl.” he grunted, “You can do that for me, yeah?”

Y/N nodded, her moans getting louder as Sirius’s thrusts got more and more erratic. He kissed her neck as he fucked her, using her hair to pull her back so that her back arched against him. They came almost simultaneously, Sirius collapsing against her back as he emptied himself inside of her.

“Fucking hell, you’re hot.” Y/N grinned, slipping back into her trousers.

“Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself.”

Y/N slipped out of the bathroom and back into the party, deciding it was time to try and find her friends before they started wondering where she had got to. Usually, after they fucked, they would both go their separate ways, ignoring each other again just as they did before. She made her way into the kitchen, quickly fixing herself a drink before blending back in with the crowds of people.

Sirius waited a few moments after Y/N left and then made his way back downstairs. For some reason, the only thing he could think about was her. He shook his head quickly, trying to rid himself of thoughts.

Back in the living room, his eyes scanned over the amount of people in the room, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. At least, that’s what he was telling himself. Eventually, his eyes fell upon Y/N, just as they had earlier. She was perched on the counter in the kitchen, bottle of beer in hand. He couldn’t quite see who she was with, but decided to make his way over to her.

He stopped suddenly in the doorway when he saw a boy standing just to the side of her. She was laughing at something that he said and he had a hand resting on her thigh. Sirius’s jaw tightened and he quickly turned around trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Deciding that it was best to distance himself, he took himself outside where there weren’t as many people. He reached into his pocket and fished out his pack of cigarettes, quickly lighting one. He took a drag and sighed, staring up at the stars.

“Well done, Sirius.” he said to himself, “You’ve only gone and fallen for her.”

#sirius black smut #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black fanfic #sirius black #marauders smut

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grimesgirll · 2 months

Text

“do you have any weed?”

“why? you wanna get stoned, baby?”

you shake your head eagerly. the sanctuary is not for the faint of heart. negan may have let you hang around his wives’ quarters while he toyed with the idea of adding you to his collection or sending you home to alexandria at a price, but that didn’t mean you were shielded from the absolute shit show that this place turned out to be. a joint is the least he can offer.

“you’re a little pothead, huh?”

you snort. “as opposed to being a big drinker?”

negan shrugs. “pick your poison i suppose.”

“do you smoke?”

“not since before this shitstorm all went down.” negan admits, resting a large hand on your thigh as you sit, legs long on top of him on the leather sofa.

“well, maybe you should have your goons bring up a half and some backwoods, and we can relax a little,” you burrow into him in an attempt to appeal to his physical motives.

he doesn’t pretend to be unaffected by you digging your ass into him and leaning back for a kiss. he halts you with a finger to your lips. “you really are a little pothead, aren’t you?”

“i hope it’s not obvious,” you retort, relaxing into him.

the leader takes the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth, pushing past your pillowy bottom lip. “i might be able to work something out. if you can ask nicely.”

a week ago, you would’ve spit in his face but now you’re more than ready to beg for a joint. tongue lolling around the pad of his thumb, he retracts the digit to let you open your mouth and put on your best sultry voice and ask negan, “negan, can you please have your men bring us some weed. i think it would really calm my nerves.” you quiver your lip for extra effect. “i’d do anything.”

negan is whistling before you can get another word out of your mouth, “baby, anything you want. whatever you want to get you settled in.” he promises against your ear.

suddenly, he’s cupping your face, giving you one of his signature overpowering - overwhelming kisses, leaning into your open mouth and then he’s up again and on his way out the door.

with a creak of a hinge you hear, “hey, dwight! ready for today’s mission?”

your cough has negan snickering at you. “what?” you sputter, smoke creeping from your mouth.

negan sat you down in the conversation pit of the common area after all his wives retired to their bedrooms. you didn’t get your own bedroom - yet, negan had threatened. a rolling tray with two pre-packed blunts and a shiny silver lighter sitting pretty, just waiting for the two of you to get straight into it.

“i thought you were a hardened stoner, sweetie, a little joint has you coughing already?” the man teases

rolling your eyes, you take another hit, not bothering to angle your exhale out of negan’s face.

a man of his word, negan had slapped dwight’s ass and sent him on a sanctuary wide search for something for you two to light up with. the sanctuary, being the cesspool it is, is rife with reefer and even some vanilla flavored tobacco rolls. you can’t fault negan for coming through, and you’re thankful he did as you indulge in another soft puff.

wanting to try something, you offer the blunt to negan.

he waves a hand at you. “not my thing, honey.”

you tilt your head with curiosity. “are you sure? i think you could benefit from a hit or two.” the raised joint remains in the air. “only if you want to, though.”

“fuck it. why not?”

and that’s how you lose over thirty minutes of your life caught up in studying negan’s face and fumbling through hazy conversation - at least on your part. a hand digs into the squishy blue leather of the seating beneath you. the unhinged part of you is placidly observing every inhale and exhale that the man offers for your viewing.

“wanna watch a movie?”

he’s breaking the new silence that’s developed since you melted into the couch, however. you also know what that’s code for but you’re nodding and following him out of the conversation pit and to the bedroom towards the entertainment center anyways.

the sanctuary is technically your prison but with every passing day, you grow more and more complacent. negan moving you in with him was supposed to be a temporary punishment - the price to pay for returning daryl to alexandria, the result of what happens when you fuck around and find out with negan. why would you risk even more punishment by running when he’s letting you order room service marijuana to his quarters. that’s some shit you weren’t doing everyday back in alexandria. the day will probably come soon enough that you’ll have to patch together a plan to ditch this place, but for now you’ll just build trust and your strength for when you eventually make your escape.

your high has you cozy on the couch and before you know it, you’re more than comfortable in negan’s lap.

“i think i like you baked, baby,” the man whispers between kisses into the skin besides your bra strap. the crisp white oversized button up you’d been wearing is conveniently strewn on the floor and out of negan’s way.

“let me make sure you don’t have cotton mouth down there.” negan’s fingers fall below your waistband. “mhmm, course’ not.” he doesn’t need to dip a finger into your messy entrance to see how soaked you are with how saturated the upper crotch of your panties are.

grinding yourself all over his lap, your self control is slipping faster than he’s undoing his belt.

“baby, i think you’re wetter than usual,” he remarks with a finger between your silken folds and the other hand finishing off his belt. you smirk until your face begins to blush with how his firm finger works you open, tag teaming with his thumb to torture you from the inside out.

the crimson creeping onto your face at the thought of him being between your legs routinely enough to notice a difference burns you. you don’t want to let it slip that smoking renders you wildly horny, so you just allow yourself to tilt your head back and let him do all the work.

your stresses are fading with each press of pleasure negan is inflicting on your clit anyways. it’s effortless to let the sheen sweat and the glowy, lightweight combination of marijuana and euphoria engulf you.

how sensitive you are scares you for a moment but the overwhelming pleasure is more than enough to have you jolting your hips and canting backwards into negan. fucking yourself on his fingers.

“fuck, next time i’m gonna have to make you look in my eyes for that next time.”

that earns him an eye roll. “you like seeing me all ditzed out?”

“i don’t want you any way else,” the salt and pepper haired bastard declares.

he wants you just like this: sprawled on top of him on the bedroom futon with a finger or two buried inside of you. the sounds you’re mewling are more than enough to have him rock hard against your ass and disregarding how truly loud you are. that is until he can’t move past your words.

“you already want my cock, darlin’?”

negan is grinning ear to ear from needy request against his ear. he’s more than happy to grant you your wish and flips you over onto the firm, scale-like leather.

“yes, negan,” you reply dreamily, fingers towing his short hair.

“you want it like this baby? you want me to fuck your high ass into the couch?”

is water wet? are you wet right now? is that even a question?

you nod like when he first asked if you wanted to get stoned. “yes, negan, please! you know you stretch me out sooo good.”

“do i?” a playful haze consumes his face.

“yes!” your breath hitches as he moves your hair out of your face to envelope your lips, biting your bottom lip before inviting his tongue inside your mouth. it’s then that you feel his massive cock poking at your slippery wet entrance.

precum coating his head, negan rests his dick against your hair covered mound, tucked against your clit in a manner that has you strategically gyrating your hips to access any sort of friction.

“i’m ready. you’re ready.” negan notes, toying his head up and down your slit. “wow, what they say about drying up and all that is bullshit.”

“c’mon, i thought - thought you were gonna fuck me.” you hum and direct your doe eyes at him.

mustering up the energy to bat your eyelashes at him has his cock lined up with your seeping hole and suddenly negan is nowhere near holding back.

the sanctuary’s leader grinds your gears but he also grinds his girthy cock against your clit so poignantly pestling pleasure just on the way in. the sensation of every detail, ridge, and texture of him cramming your taut walls has you breathing erratically into his shoulder.

“you’ve got this, honey.” he presses a purple kiss to your collarbone. “i know you can take this cock better than you think you can.”

negan is right but god, the stretch is still something you’re getting used to. thick and long, negan has a hard cock to take with an even more impossible personality to stomach. that cock fucks you nice and deep enough to at least temporary take your captivity off of your mind, so you don’t mind it. you actually yearn for it - in your core.

that heat that’d consumed you before returns and fluctuates and flickers with the older man’s vigorous pace. every snap and thrust has you clenching and digging crescent shaped marks into his skin.

little bursts of lightning snap inside of you as negan doesn’t spare you his fingers. resuming their pace on your clit as if you hadn’t just come on his fingers a minute or two earlier. you’re not ready to let go quite yet but you can already feel the pressure mounting as negan angles his hips to brush against every part of your interior anatomy. it’s like he’s fucking sightseeing - one of the locations being your cervix, already

“mhm,” you’re mumbling beneath him.

“god, i don’t think i’m ever gonna get tired of stuffing this pussy.”

“love when you stuff me.” you breathe. that weightless feeling starts in your core and without warning, you flutter around the thick cock inside of you, constricting and tightening as he bumps against that same spot he’d been stimulating on the way in with, now with his fingers meddling in an effort to push you over the edge.

“can’t wait to creampie you. fuck, it’s worth all the plan b.”

you’re too sex distracted to feign concerned. negan could come in you as many times as he wants - as long as he keeps up the mind bending rhythm that has you babbling and on the verge of forgetting your name.

“god, you got me so close already tonight, girl.” the man’s hips are already stuttering, so much that you’re swiveling into him.

“negan, negan,” the name leaves you lips as a cry.

“just like that, say it again,” he commands and fists a handful of your hair, forcing eye contact.

his eyes focused on your lust blown pupils, you offer him some more figure eights so he’s won’t be the only one who contributed to your soreness tomorrow. struggling with raspy, lust addled breaths, you moan, “come in me, negan.”

and that’s all the permission the sanctuary’s fearless leader needs to completely fill you up. your pussy maintains an unrelentless death grip on his cock at the same time. the needy vortex between your thighs sucks negan in.

a corresponding climax is washing over you, complimenting the warm come oozing from your freshly stretched little hole. god, the full body bliss you unlock once your core gives in numbs your bottom half. your face must be numb too because you’re smiling like an idiot.

wow, he really creampied you. the aforementioned promise of plan b placates you enough to shut up and accept your orgasm, happily accepting the kisses he scatters in his post-sex glow along your newly relaxed nipples and up your throat.

“damn, we’re gonna have to get stoned together more often, baby.” negan places another soft kiss on your forehead. “don’t think too hard while i’m gone, sweetie.”

with that, he’s paying your ass a squeeze as he shifts off the bed. you stay belly down despite the rustle of clothing and the door hinging open.

too tired to care what negan‘s up to, you tug down the large fleece blanket on top of the futon and bunch it around you. your brain is too fried to prioritize getting to bed right now. if negan is nice enough, he’ll move you to bed later like he did the other night after you fell asleep in his arms in the conversation pit.

you’re smirking when you hear negan greet dwight, who you can imagine is sitting in the common area, stopping in to do a quick tune up on negan’s in home arsenal.

“hey, dwight! you ready to roll some more magical blunts?”

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babyjakes · 11 months

Text

if this was a movie.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

summary | your nerdy best friend is gonna make you a star.

pairing | nerd!best friend!jake jensen x reader

warnings | jakey is lowkey a perv but that's exactly how we love him. best friend!jakey except he's so down bad for reader. reader is nervous/inexperienced. filming/making porn. fingering (both holes >:^)). heavy clit focus, my beloved <3. clit slapping. squirting. praise and humiliation. so many petnames (it's jakey, duh.) me again picking a taylor title bc i have no impulse control.

word count | 1,165

an | hehe well :^) i've been thinking about nerdy bestie jakey for a while and i just thought i'd write a little something for him, i've been thinking a LOT about pornstar/director au's lately and this felt like a cute little way to enter the genre. hope you guys enjoy, please help me spread my love for jakey by reblogging!!! <3

"A-Are you sure about this, Jakey?" you ask, wide-eyed as you lean back carefully against your best friend's second-hand leather sofa. In front of you, the blonde-haired boy fiddles with his camera, trying to get the angle of the tripod just right.

Jake looks up at you through the round frames of his glasses, giving you a confident smile. "'Course I am, sweetcheeks," he promises as he finally finds a shot he likes. "Remember all those filming classes I took in high school? Looks like they're finally gonna pay off," he chuckles.

"I-I just, I don't know," you admit shyly as your friend hits record, a small red light shining to the side of the camera's wide lens. "Will people even wanna watch this sort of thing?"

Jake furrows his brow as he crouches down in front of you on the floor, reaching out a hand to rub your knee as you hug your legs up to your chest nervously. "Of course they will, cutie. You're gonna be a hit, just wait and see. Guys online will go crazy over a sweet little thing like you." He gently places a large hand over each of your knees, easing them to either side of the couch to give the camera a full view of your sheer lace panties. "These are so pretty, honey," Jake murmurs as he carefully runs a few fingers over your clothed pussy, causing heat to rise up in your cheeks as you let out a soft whimper. "Don't be nervous, sweetie. Try to forget the camera's even there, yeah? S'just you and me, I got you."

You turn your head to the side, too embarrassed to watch as your best friend continues petting you lightly over the thin strip of fabric covering your most sensitive places. "Mmm," you can hear the smile in Jake's voice as he notes, "you're already getting wet, sweetheart. Look so sweet like this, doing so good for me." He focuses a single finger to rub against the small damp patch in the center of your panties. "Right there," he sighs happily as he takes his time teasing you. "What do you say, pretty girl? Should we give your adoring audience a closer look?"

His hands come up to hook under the waistline of the undies as he gently eases them off of you. Your legs instinctually close again, but he's quick to open you back up for the camera, spreading you nice and wide as your cheeks only burn more with humiliation and uncertainty. "There," Jake coos, giving the viewers the exact shot he knows they've been waiting for. "There she is, oh my," he chuckles as he drags a finger through your leaking folds, stringing out your arousal for you and everyone watching to see. "Look at how excited you are, baby. Here, why don't we just-" his voice lulls a bit as he uses both of his large hands to spread your dripping cunt further open, his mouth practically watering at the sight. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "You've been keeping this all to yourself? What a shame, s'the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen."

Your muscles twitch as the man keeps you suspended in anticipation, just lightly manipulating your flesh this way and that to give the camera an array of angles and views, with all of you spread out so helplessly, of course. "Wanna make sure they can see everything, sweetie," he explains in a soothing manner as he pulls back the hood around your hardened bundle of nerves, giving the exposed head a quick few swipes with his finger. You gasp, jerking at the sudden burning pleasure. "Mhmm, just as I thought," the blonde observes aloud. "Already so sensitive, aren't you, cutie? You're very swollen down here, guess I'm not surprised."

Jake brings the pads of two of his digits down to begin circling over your drenched hole. "Easy, sweet thing. M'gonna stretch you open now, okay? Wanna let your fans see how tight this little baby pussy is." You let out a fluttering sigh as he coaxes his fingers into you. "That's it," he encourages you, "fuck, so fucking tight, pretty girl." He takes a moment with his fingers fully inserted, spreading them apart to let your viewers see your poor little hole being stretched as far as it can manage.

Once he's satisfied with the spectacle he's given, he begins working his fingers in and out of you, his pace gradually increasing as your legs fall further apart while you hum and moan softly to yourself. "Good, that's my good girl," he smiles as he surprises you by spitting down on your puckered asshole, earning a gasp from you as your knees tremble.

He begins teasing the entrance to your virgin bottom with the pad of his thumb, biting his tongue in concentration as you begin falling apart beneath his touch. "J-Jakey," you groan softly in humiliation, "please, I- oh!" Your protests are cut off by a strained whine escaping your lips, his thick digit having forced its way past the tight outer ring of your poor rosebud. "Jakey, Jakey," you whimper, your eyes rolling back on their own as your head falls to the side, the pressure in your tummy becoming more and more urgent.

"C'mon, cutie. Keep making those pretty sounds for me. You gonna be a good girl and cum for the camera?" All you can manage in response is a string of incoherent whimpers and whines. Jake chuckles almost cruelly at the pathetic state he's brought you to. "I'll take that as a yes. Almost there, baby. Here, let's help you out a little, huh?"

His free hand finds your clit, tugging back on the surrounding skin to expose the poor bundle of nerves as he again swipes mercilessly at it, reducing you nearly to tears as an unbearable tightness forms in your gut. "Please, please!" you pant, your hands scrambling to grip at the couch beneath you as you hurtle to the edge of your climax, well past the point of no return.

"Come on, sweetheart. Give us a big one," Jake cheers as you cry out in euphoria, your body convulsing violently as your orgasm tears through you. "That's it, that's my girl," Jake beams proudly as he rips his fingers out of you, smacking his drenched digits down against your poor exposed button to force you to squirt. Across your entire body, your skin is ablaze. Your high feels like it lasts for entire minutes before finally beginning to cease, tiny shocks and tingles shooting through your limbs as you float down, struggling to catch your breath.

Through half-closed lids, you can barely look out at the blonde-haired boy kneeling before you. He smiles gently, easing his fingers out of you as you let out a final set of jumbled whimpers. "That's my girl," he says again, reaching up to cup your cheek softly. "I just knew it. My girl's gonna be a star."

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mitchellpete · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 3 - 69

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: 69ing, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, slight throat fucking, hangar sex, cum eating

word count: 1363

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

Friday night. The Mojave desert. Just Pete and his P-51.

You didn’t mind the solitude, or when Maverick was feeling particularly spent after rigorous hours on base. Sometimes he just liked to lay back on his orange sofa and watch you flip through his aviation magazines on the opposite chair, a content little smile on his face. You, however, were very bored. And you whined about it.

Instantaneously, you’re met with a cocked eyebrow and his trademark smirk. That look he does when he’s planning something stupid.

“How ‘bout you come here?” he asks, the tone in his voice matching his smirk.

Tossing the magazines, you get to your feet to cross the few steps towards him, but still wonder aloud, “For?”

He grins, grabbing your arm once you’re in reach and pulling you down atop his body. You lean in to give him a kiss while you’re chest to chest with him, unable to resist his mischievous expression. “Why don’t you climb up here and ride my face?” he blurts out against your lips.

You freeze, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I—what?”

He tucks an arm behind his head, the other around your waist, his hand lingering on your ass. His smirk widens. “You heard me.”

“Jesus,” you breathe. “You can’t just say that to me.”

“Why not?” he asks innocently.

Heat fills your cheeks. You’re very content with your sex life—satisfied is a better word—but there are certain things you haven’t done yet. “I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling your blush spread. “Just haven’t done that before.”

Mav shifts underneath you, dragging you even closer until you’re sitting on his torso. With his hands reaching up to cup your face, you can’t help leaning down again to peck his face.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says, grinning. “I’m just gonna make you feel good.”

Your stomach flips at his words. He knows very well the effect he has on you when he says something like that so innocently. So sweetly. It’s gonna work everytime.

But then you get an idea.

“As long as I get to make you feel good too, then,” you protest, fingernails lightly raking his chest through his shirt.

He shudders at your touch, and then angles his head, his grin turning playful—a really? But who is he to deny your way? If there was anybody Maverick was not going to defy, that would be you. So he taps your thigh, almost a light spank, and says, “Come on up, then.”

You scramble off of him, the both of you immediately working buttons and zippers and carelessly dropping all your garments on his Persian rug.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him once you finish stripping. Wearing nothing but his watch, he situates himself on the couch in his previous lying position, his head on the flat of the cushion instead of leaning on the arm rest like before. Like your fingernails just a second ago, your eyes trail his chest, his half hard cock against his abs. He turns his head slightly, waving you over with his fingers. “Come here, baby.”

You have to bite your lip when you step towards him. You’re hesitant in positioning yourself at first, setting your fisted hands down on the leather on either side of his legs to be able to throw yours over him. Mav gently guides your leg to the right place, the spot in between the inside of the couch and his ribs. That easily aids the rest of your body in hovering over him, your face above his growing erection. All you have to do is literally sit on his face now.

“Come on. Come on,” he coaxes sweetly, squeezing your thighs. “All the way.”

You don’t have the will to hesitate anymore with the harsh orange leather digging into your elbows and your knees, so you sink down as delicately as you can, leaning on your forearms instead.

You’re not sure how close you are to his face until he meets your core with an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue licking the first stripe against your heat. Pleasure shoots through your body and you throw your head back in surprise, a stifled moan escaping your lips.

His cock twitches at the sound, and through a newfound haze you lean in to grab at his shaft as he eagerly starts tasting you.

The heat of your mouth on him makes him shiver underneath you, and he grunts against you. You do your best to envelop as much of him as you can, though it’s harder than you thought it would be. His mouth works you just as it usually does, like he’s hungry and starved for you, but the new position is something else. You might just lose your composure already.

Mav sticks his middle finger in his mouth and out again with a pop, using it to tease your hole. The noise that comes out of you at the feel of it inside you, paired with his mouth right underneath, almost embarrasses you. You’re sure you sound insane, moaning and crying around his cock, losing your cool so immediately.

He tastes good too, though, your mouth salivating and dripping spit all over. You stroke him where your mouth can’t easily reach, movements sloppy but getting all sorts of groans and hisses from him regardless. Mav works his finger in and out of you still, teasing your clit with his tongue. When he reaches and starts prodding at the spongy wall inside of you, his cock pops out of your mouth as you cry out.

“Pete,” you moan his name, languidly stroking him as the pleasure overtakes you. So easily, you’re already trying not to cum.

“Mm, sweetheart?”

It’s like he reads your mind, because he removes his finger—sticks it in his mouth again to clean it off—and leans in against your clit to suck. You tense up, whining loudly. His nose pokes at your slit as his tongue works your nerves, and you’re so caught in how good it feels that you almost forget what you were doing.

It takes a lot in you to get back to it, but you want him to feel as good as you feel. You take him in, feeling his hips slightly jerk, and you aim to get him in as deep as you can handle. Your soft lips lower down his shaft slowly, gently, until the tip hits an uncomfortable part of your throat. He moans loudly at the feel, an absence of his mouth for a few seconds at a time as you start to overwhelm him. It’s like he treats it like a challenge, though, eager to overpower you. Two fingers roughly dip inside you this time, and Mav angles his head to continue working your clit, filthy sounds leaving his mouth.

The vibrations of your moans around him arouse him even further, and he unintentionally begins to thrust up into your mouth. His hips sputter, sending his cock even further down your throat. Running out of air, you nearly gag at the overflowing feel in your mouth, and you have to slip it out momentarily, breathing heavily.

“Oh, God,” he rasps between gritted teeth, hips still jerking slightly. When you regain your breath, you take him back in and he continues thrusting shallowly into your mouth.

The spring in your stomach coils tightly as his fingers work that same spot over and over, and you need to let go soon.

You nearly scream when you cum, your release dripping down all over his mouth and jaw. He lays his head down against the cushion as he nears his own climax, and cums himself when you take him in one more time. You take it all down your throat, and Mav shudders, a string of small, whiney noises leaving his mouth.

You collapse on top of him, head resting against his thigh. He removes his fingers, cleans them off on his tongue and gives your thigh a light squeeze.

That was good.

You raise an eyebrow. “Hey, did you turn that into a competition?”

He tries not to grin.

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joonberriess · 2 years

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·˚ ༘ 💌 IMAGINE┊being a staff member who is corrupted by yoongi, who takes a dark interest in you.

TAGS — virgin!reader, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected (half) sex, just the tip trope, (some) degradation, yoongi’s got a filthy mouth lmao, SEQUEL TO ANGEL (prelude if anything)

WORD COUNT — 1.5 k

Quiet moans and breathy sighs escaped your lips every so often as you sunk into the leather couch and closed your eyes.

You and Yoongi had this weird relationship—or situationship if you will—going on. You were a team member for the Run!BTS episodes, often working behind the scenes on editing and such. One day however, you get called into Yoongi's personal studio because he's going to compose a intro song for the show and he needed your editing skills etc. From day one there was tension.

You weren't blind to the way Yoongi looked at you, the way his voice would lower in pitch when he spoke. It gets progressively worse each studio session when he starts getting touchy by putting his hand on your thigh and leaving it there whilst you two work. Then it finally snaps and from there it keeps going.

Tonight was no different either. You sat on the leather couch with your legs hiked up and propped on either side of him. Your manicured hand rested in hair fluffy black hair, lazily gripping it and occasionally scratching your nails against his scalp. Yoongi had his face buried between your soft thighs, licking and sucking noisily at your pussy.

His large veiny hands were set under your ass cheeks, gripping each fat globe in his hands. He had his eyes closed in concentration, jaw clenched as he basically made out with your pussy.

"Mmph—right there," you breath out quietly as he angles head just right and gets your clit in his mouth.

Yoongi releases a muffled groan and swipes his tongue over your clit from left to right. He pulls you closer to the edge of the sofa and firmly attaches his lips to your clit. He sucks, nibbles, and laps all around the sensitive bud, toying with it in many ways.

Your lips part, the breathy sighs turning into louder moans and stuttered breaths. You grip his hair tighter and arch your back in pleasure. "Yoongi–" you grit your teeth, eyes squeezing shut.

He lets the bud go and pulls back, panting harshly as he looks up at you and lets his mouth fall open once more. He leans down to circle your clit and press down on the bud to apply pressure. He watches the entire time as you writhe under him.

"Like that..!" You cry in surprise when he flicks his tongue, "F-Feels so good w-when you do that," you whimper and try to part your legs even wider.

Yoongi dips his tongue into your creamy sopping cunt, flicking it in and out a few times. You seem to enjoy it greatly as your hips jump in surprise when he does that. "K-Keep going," your chest heaves a little, the pressure in your tummy keeps rising and rising.

He growls lowly and pulls away, "Cum, all over my tongue like a good girl. Get me all messy babygirl." He flicks his tongue in figure of eights over your clit, rapidly flicking it.

Your mouth falls open, pure silence engulfs the room as your hands scramble to reach for the armrest of the couch. You cum hard on his tongue, your pussy slicks up as it nearly slides down the crack of your ass. Yoongi lets out a muffled groan as he pulls away and laps up the mess you're making all over his couch etc.

"Yoongi," you mewl softly, squirming in discomfort due to your sensitivity.

He doesn't pay any mind to your squirming and greedily sucks on your soft pussy lips. "Did so well for me baby," he whispers as his eyes open and he looks up at you, "you gonna be a good girl and take my cock like the cock hungry whore you are?" He rises slowly, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip as his hands come up to unbuckle his belt slowly.

You eagerly nod and bite your lip in anticipation for him, "Please Yoongi," you beg softly.

There was only one issue however: your virginity. As much as Yoongi wanted to fuck you he couldn't. Why? You didn't want him to, you were saving yourself for your lover because your purity was something you held dearest to you. So far Yoongi had only been putting the tip in, sometimes he didn't even put it in and just had you grind on him till you both came as he whispered filthy words.

"Open up for me sweet girl," he says as he kneels before you and grips his hard leaking cock, "there you go baby, just like that." He licks his lips hungrily and eyes your glistening pussy.

You manage to part your shaky thighs and open yourself up to him, lips puckered and slick from your orgasm. Yoongi slots himself between your thighs, positioning his cock at your pussy and swiping the tip over your clit. He circles it slowly, applying the slightest of pressure.

There's a soft squelching noise as he rubs over your clit. Soft little moans and whimpers escape your throat as you shyly watch him. Yoongi's dark eyes settle on your blushy face, "You like that baby? Love having my fat cock rub against that little clit of yours?"

You nod shyly, eyes squeezing shut to avoid even looking at him. Yoongi however isn't having any of that. "Look at me baby, I want your eyes on me." He says lowly and smacks your thigh.

"Y-Yoongi," you whimper softly and open your eyes to look at him, "please, need you so badly."

As much as you're enjoying him slapping the tip and rubbing it all over your clit you really want him to do that thing he always does that has you seeing stars. "Baby wants me to stick my cock in her? Need something to fill that filthy little hole of yours?" He taunts and lazily fists his cock, intentionally rubbing it up and down your slit in a torturous way.

You whine in return, giving him a "angry" pout because he knew damn well what the answer was. He laughs quietly and aims his cock at your hole, pushing forward as the tip pops in like nothing since you've both been doing this for a while now. You moan softly and relax around him as your pussy pulses and grows wetter around his cock.

"Needy little slut," he groans quietly, "how can I resist you when your pussy's sucking me in? So hot and tight around me." He leans his head back and rocks his hips slightly forward.

Another tiny moan escapes your lips, the tip of his cock presses up against the roof of your cunt. It pushes against that sweet spot that always has you seeing stars. "So good..." You whisper out and reach between you two to rub at your clit in slow tiny circles.

Yoongi gently rocks back and forth, hand gripping the base to avoid sliding in all the way. Low wet noises fill the room as he rocks back and forth and fucks the tip in and out. Your pussy drools even more for him, a light sheen of slick covers the tip making it glisten under the dark LED lights he's got on.

"Such a dirty girl, letting me use your little pussy however I want. I bet you want me to fuck my cock deep inside of you, stretch your little pussy out till it’s full of my cum.” Yoongi taunts as he lets a bit more of his cock slide in.

You gasp softly, feeling the extra inch slide in as you look at Yoongi with bleary pleasure filled eyes. “Y-Yoongi..!” You smack his hip and frown cutely.

Yoongi snorts, “Yeah, yeah,” he pulls out and taps his cock against your folds, “I got you.”

He slips his fingers inside of you, curling them to hit that spot immediately as he starts up a fast pace. He’s fingering you quickly, not skipping a beat as he licks his lips and stares down at you.

“Go on pretty girl, give me one more and cum for me.” Yoongi chuckles breathily.

You squirm around and quietly mewl in pleasure as he hits your sweet spot dead on. You can feel that pressure building up from before. His long slender fingers fill you so deliciously you can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to have his cock inside.

“Y..oongi..!” You choke out, back arching.

“There you go baby,” he feels your pussy squelch loudly as your slick seeps out and begins to make a mess all over his lap.

Your chest heaves as you scramble to hold on to something. Moans and soft cries break from your throat as you toss your head back. “I-I’m gonna–!!” You can’t even finish your words because suddenly you’re coming hard.

Your pussy squelches loudly and finally it throbs around his fingers as you drench them. The room is filled with your panting and quiet whimpers as you weakly shove at Yoongi. “N-No more.” You croak out.

Yoongi grins softly as he stares up at you and brings his fingers to his mouth. He gives them a good suck before standing to hover over you, “I think good girls return the favor, don’t you think?”

You stare up at him, gulping with a tiny nod.

PART ONE

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #min yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut

1K notes · View notes

bleedingichorhearts · 2 months

Text

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕾𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙:

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: So uh… how we doing today?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams,@egrets-not-regrets.

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

Viață mică - Little Life (Romanian)

Viață - Life (Romanian)

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: If you are under the age of 18. Shoo! Go away! Skedaddle! Why you reading this in the first place? Be 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 for/of yourself.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, Language, Filth, Google Translation.

Returning home, I threw my keys onto the counter and started to take off my coat and placed it over the leather couch. Swiping up some mail from the same counter.

I sighed and started to flip through it. Stopping for just a second to take off my shoes, using the counter as support. I wondered where Amadeus was as he usually greeted me at the door like usual. His mock helmet nuzzling against the top of my head, brightening up my day just a little bit brighter when he would greet me so sweetly.

Placing the mail off to the side. I started to take off my shirt next. Figuring if I was alone I could partly streak my own home for a moment and gather my clothing back when I was done taking my planned shower.

Throwing my shirt off to the side, near the leather couch. I made quick work of my pants, unbuttoning them and throwing my pants off to the side on the couch too when I wiggled them off.

Taking the mail from the counter again. I slowly made my way down the hallway and passed a spare living room that I had to do a double take at. My heart jumping in my chest at the split second dark flash I saw until I realized it was just Amadeus.

A very, very needy looking Amadeus.

My god, wasn’t he a sight to see.

The curtains were closed blocking most of the sunlight, but there was this streak of light coming through, creating a god-like glow on his pale naked skin. His most prominent scar going across his chest lining up with the angled sun streak. His lean body leaning back on the love sofa. He huffed, his chest rising up in down quickly. His c*ck twitching against his body, producing some prec*m off the tip. Was he…?

Maybe that shower can wait.

Amadeus tried taking multiple cold showers, but it simply wasn’t enough for his heated skin. He doesn't know really why he was so hot, so needy. It wasn’t like him to be so sexually high. He tried taking care of his sudden erection, c*ming once, twice, then thrice by his hand, but it pained him more than anything, like he was endlessly edging himself. It just wasn’t enough for him. He needed something more.

His eyes snapped open when the scent of his viață mică reached his nose. His mouth falling open to capture more of her scent while he leaned forward on the sofa. His c*ck pulsing at the sight of his viață mică half naked at his waist.

He watched with half lidded eyes as she placed her hands on his thighs, slowly running her fingers up and down them as she cooed at him. Flushing her chest up against his c*ck. The skin against skin contact making his body ignite even more. A strangled groan rumbling through his chest while he clutched the sides of the sofa, creating an indent in them with his nails.

Throne, this is what he needed. He needed his viață mică to take care of him and his aching c*ck.

He felt like he was in paradise. The need was still strong, but it was pleasurable and it didn’t cause him much discomfort as it did with his hands.

He felt himself twitch, her hands taking the bottom of his length and slowly tracing his prec*m all the way up to his tip before her warm mouth opened up, cooing up at him before wrapping around him.

He nearly thrusted up into her mouth. Another groan falling from his lips, crushing the arm of the soft he gripped onto, by the Emperor.

Her tongue swirled around his tip. Then bobbed her head up and down. A sinful squelch sounding out. Her hands sliding up and down his V line and thighs. Throne, it was all too much, but it wasn’t enough at the same time. He needed more. He needed to be inside his viață mică.

Bringing his hand forward, he gently took her by the throat after she popped off his c*ck for a breath. Surprising his little bonded as she jumped in his hold while he came forward and pressed his lips against her swollen lips. Tasting his needy self on her tongue.

Slowly, he urged his little bonded down to the animal skinned rug beneath them. His lips slowly working his way down her body. Listening to how her breath hitched and her heart beat pick up its pace. His fangs itching to mark her up, to draw blood from that soft flesh of hers. To taste the sweetness of her blood and c*nt.

“Ești prea dulce pentru mine, viață mică(You are too sweet for me, little life.)” He groaned, kissing the inside of her thigh. Suckling a little there while he watched her squirm beneath his touches; his affections. “Dându-te mie.(Giving yourself to me.)”

“I-I hope that means you're enjoying yourself.” She stammered beneath him as he hummed, moving her panties to the side and wrapped his arms around her thighs. His hands softly pressing against her soft stomach, keeping her in place while his tongue slithered out of his mouth, pulling his little viaţă close, a squeak leaving her shuddering body.

Twisting and thrusting his tongue. He listened to the many pretty little noises his little viață made. Her thighs coming in and closing around his head as he ignored how his c*ck was aching for release. He needed to feast, to taste the sweetness before he would stuff his c*ck right inside of her tight c*nt.

He kept the top of her body still on the ground as she cried out. The rest of legs locking around his head as he let her ride out her climax on face. Lapping up anything her delicious, throbbing core would give him.

“Throne, Aș putea să te mănânc toată ziua.(I could eat you all day.)” He mumbled, dragging his lips back up his viață mică body. His hands dragging up the sides of her body and arms. Tugging off her bra while he was at it.

“I hope… you are paying for that.” She huffed, his lips meeting hers once more. His c*ck twitching underneath him while he dragged his hands up her arms, pinning them up above her head.

“Îți dau tot ce vrei, mica mea viață.(I give you everything you want, my little life.)” He spoke, nuzzling his little bonded head before dragging his lips down her face. “Ți-aș da orice de-al meu(I would give you anything of mine.)”

“Ți-aș da viața mea( I would give you my life.)” He admitted, vowed. Kissing her cheek bone. “Ți-aș da sângele meu.(I would give you my blood.)” He kissed her shoulder. “Fiii și fiicele noastre.(Our sons and daughters.)” He purred, running his fangs over her throat, making her shiver beneath him. “Viitorul nostru.(Our future.)”

She gasped beneath him. The simple noise pleasing his ears. His fangs drawing blood from her while he inched himself closer and closer to her tight core. A moan rumbling out of his chest.

He rolled his hips slowly; deeply. The unholy squelch of their hips coming together and their gasps and huffs staining each other’s heated skin. Bodies desperately trying to get closer to one another with each thrust, with each beat of their heart’s.

Truly, his little viaţă was too sweet to him.

Amadeus groaned, nearing his own climax after making his mica viata c*m multiple times on his c*ck before he did. The moon resting between the curtains now.

His lips rose off her skin to stop drinking from his little weakened viaţă, but her hand slid from his own, dragging up his arm and wrapping up and around his head. Threading her fingers through his hair before gripping at it, urging him to drink more.

A deep moan came out of his lips. His c*ck pulsing inside of her as he couldn’t help, but drink some more of her blood. Her whimpering command clear to him.

He didn’t stop when he climaxed himself, his hips slowly grinding back into his little bonded. His head lifting up from her shoulder to lap at the deep mark he created, making sure there wasn’t an ounce of wasted blood on her precious skin.

Throne, he wasn’t finished with his viață mică yet. He still has a lot more to give to his mica viata. He could feel it.

Though, he doesn’t really know what got into him, wanting to breed his mica viata, but he wasn’t really complaining if it had her yearning for him while he drank her sweet blood from her and f*cked her.

Touching his own head against her own. He kept moving his hips into her coated walls. Licking her blood off of his lips as he enjoyed the little sounds she gave him.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #fanfiction #oneshot #x reader #reader insert #blood angel #oc: amadeus #mating press march #tw: yandere #tw: smut #non-canon? but like not #it’s resting between #I hope the translation was readable…#rip animal rug

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 8 months

Text

Begged & Borrowed Time (xxiii, ao3)

Chapter twenty-three: In the aftermath of the attack on Velaris, Cassian can’t quite shake the feeling that something is drastically wrong, and below the wall, Nesta lies awake at the Archeron manor… (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

The blood still stained his hands.

It lingered in the gaps between his fingers, smeared across his knuckles, a mixture of silver and red that was a testament to too many lives lost.

Lives he’d tried to save.

His armour had long been discarded, but the scent of smoke still clung to Cassian’s hair, his skin. The city was in pieces, all broken stone and shattered glass, and too many cries of grief still punctured the silence, too many screams still tearing through the streets as the citizens of Velaris began to understand the scale of the devastation.

The fires were out, at least.

But an acrid taste coated his tongue even now, hours after the fighting had finished. They had been confined to the theatre district mainly, small blazes that - thank the mother - hadn’t had a chance to spread too far. But still— ash had drifted across the city, and the stone pavements that had been worn smooth with time were roughened now, scarred in too many places. And as midnight came and went, Cassian had been out on those streets, salvaging whatever was left of the City of Starlight.

They all had.

And only now, as the clock inched towards four in the morning, did Rhys’ Inner Circle make it back to the townhouse, each of them dirty and bloody and covered with ash.

None of them had the strength to wash away the grit of battle.

None had the energy to magic it away, either.

Cassian looked at them in turn now— his family, each of them as drained as he was. Mor’s golden curls were in disarray, her leathers torn at the knees. Rhys’ eyes were as dark and as empty as a chasm, no stars glittering there at all now, and even Amren’s face had turned ashen. Whatever well of ancient power she drew from, it had apparently run dry after she and Rhys had fixed the wards, constructed new ones - stronger ones - and tested them until they were sure they would not break. Silver blood was splattered across her cheek, and the string of diamonds she wore about her neck - because of course she hadn’t taken the time to remove her jewellery before heading out into the streets - was dulled by a thin coating of ash, greyed by the smoke from the fires Hybern had set.

Az sat silently, cleaning silver blood from Truth-teller’s blade as a frown settled deep between his brows. He and Cassian had both flown over the city until their wings could take no more, assessing the damage and putting out those wretched fires, and with both feet on the ground now, the Spymaster was quiet. The azure blue of his siphons was flat, dim— as empty as Cassian’s, the glow reduced to a weak, barely-there flicker.

His shadows were gone, too.

All of them— dispatched across the city and beyond to keep an eye on things as the High Lord and his most trusted took a moment to breathe.

And on the sofa beneath the window, Feyre Cursebreaker sat motionless.

Her hand was encased in Rhys’, their fingers woven so tightly together it was a wonder their knuckles weren’t white. Slowly, rhythmically, Rhys stroked his thumb across the back of Feyre’s hand— broad, soothing, strokes that Cassian knew were the only thing keeping his brother grounded. The Attor’s blood still marred Feyre’s skin, and her hair was still tangled from the free-fall that had sent the creature to it’s death, but when Rhys angled his head to the side to glance at his mate, for a moment the stars in his eyes attempted brightness despite the dark.

And beneath the grief and the despair, Rhys didn’t bother to mask the awe and adoration that consumed him every time he looked at her.

Cassian might have smiled softly, had he not been so weary.

Archerons, he thought wryly. So fucking brave they put the rest of us to shame.

In his exhaustion, he must have let his mental barriers slip, because Rhys snorted.

That’s true, he said inside the cavern of Cassian’s mind.

But Cassian didn’t respond. He only tipped his head back, shattered, and tried to find the strength he needed to ask the questions that were hanging off his tongue— ones he didn’t want to ask, but ones that needed to be voiced, even if none of them had an answer.

“Velaris might be secure for now,” he began darkly, his voice a low, exhausted, rumble, “but for how long? The queens know about us now. How long until they sell the information to the other courts? Or till Hybern uses the Cauldron against us?”

He was met with silence.

But what was there for any of them to say besides I don’t know?

Rhys let out a breath, one that was so heavy, so weary, Cassian almost winced. But it was Feyre who broke the silence.

“We need to destroy the Cauldron,” she said, her voice quiet but far from feeble.

Rhys nodded, but his violet eyes were shuttered. Cassian didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that the destruction of Velaris would forever lie heavy on Rhys’ shoulders, the blood staining his hands. Tension gathered at his shoulders, and when he spoke his voice was grim, flat.

“So we go to Hybern,” Rhys said tightly.

Feyre hesitated, bit her lip. “We can’t all go,” she pointed out, her voice dropping low as guilt flashed across her face, like she resenting adding to Rhys’ burden. “Who will defend the city?”

Amren didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll stay here.”

Somehow Cassian found the strength to lift his head an inch from the headrest of his chair, but even though he opened his mouth to protest, Amren didn’t blink. She didn’t look away from Rhys, from the ash-streaked hair that fell haphazard over his forehead.

“I am the only one of you who might hold the city until help arrives if we are attacked again,” she said steadily. When Rhys’ throat bobbed, she shook her head. “Today was a surprise— but the new wards we built will not fall so easily.”

Mor sighed, heavy, resting her cheek in her palm. “So what now?”

Amren shrugged. “We sleep. We eat.”

And with the tell-tale snick of a blade sliding back into its sheath, Azriel finished cleaning Truth-teller. Though he had been silent, he spoke now with finality, in a voice that was rough at the edges— strained and begging for retribution.

“And then we retaliate.”

His words hung in the air.

Retaliate.

Yes, they would retaliate. They would have their retribution, their revenge. They would pay Hybern back tenfold for the destruction they had unleashed today.

Cassian could only nod in agreement, his head falling back against the headrest once more as a piercing headache flourished between his temples. Unease still sat heavy in his stomach, and there was a lingering anxiety he couldn’t quite shake. Whatever it was that had apprehension cresting within him like a wave, he couldn’t put his finger on it.

As Amren got to her feet, Cassian only swallowed against the nausea. Ash lingered in her black hair, the crown of her head dusted with white, and as she announced that she was going back to her apartment to continue searching for a way to destroy the Cauldron once and for all, Cassian couldn’t even open his mouth to say goodbye.

His throat felt like it was closing.

The battle calm that had settled over him earlier had long since receded, and in its wake he was left with this— burgeoning anxiety and a kind of fear he couldn’t name and didn’t understand.

Velaris was secure, the wards were up— and yet still it felt for all the world like there was something wrong, something vital he had missed.

He barely even noticed as Feyre and Mor took their leave too. Mor pressed a hand to his shoulder as she left, her fingers curling in a silent farewell, and when they were gone, Cassian dragged a hand down his face.

Across the room, Rhys closed his eyes and let out another heavy breath. He rubbed his jaw, a crease in his brow.

“I wonder if we underestimated Hybern,” he said slowly.

With effort, Cassian snorted. He’d thought the same when he saw the queen’s body on the bridge, her eyes torn out.

“They know us, know our weaknesses far better than we know them,” Rhys continued. “We don’t know where this king came from, don’t know his background or how to predict his movements. We don’t even know his fucking name.”

Az scowled in the darkness. He’d been trying to find all of this out for months now, to no avail. Hybern was an isle wreathed in mist and smoke, one that kept its secrets close. Cassian had scouted the place out twice, and each time it’d had the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Not even Azriel’s shadows had been able to make sense of it. All they knew was that there was a sea door that might grant them access to the castle, that the Cauldron was inside, on the lower levels somewhere, and that the guards were on a two-hour rotation. Az’s shadows had picked all that up from standing sentinel outside the castle, but getting in… no, even they hadn’t been able to do that.

“I feel like we’re going into this war blind,” Rhys said, his voice a quiet whisper.

Cassian’s face was grim, because— fucking hell, what else did Hybern have in their arsenal? He thought of those stone manacles, how they’d already brought Rhys down once, had shattered Cassian’s shields. And today had only been a skirmish. The real battles were yet to come, the real war yet to be fought, and they had no idea what else Hybern was hiding, what other tricks the king might use to bring them to their knees.

Unsettling, to say the least.

That ominous, dark feeling in his stomach surged, and Cassian shifted in his chair to try and bank it, but it only blazed harder.

“When Amren figures it out, we’ll be in a much better position,” Azriel pointed out.

“And how close is she?” Cassian asked, suppressing the lump in his throat.

Rhys shrugged. “Close. She thinks we might have something in a day or two.”

At that, Cassian nodded, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He didn’t know what else to say, what to do, and as the clock ticked on the mantle, a heavy silence came over the sitting room, settling like a shroud. After a long, drawn out moment, Rhys stood.

“I need—” He shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair. “I need some air.”

Az nodded.

It didn’t need to be said that Rhys wanted to be alone. Five hundred years had taught each of them how to read one another like a book, and with the way Rhys sighed as he got to his feet, with that haunted look in his eyes, both Azriel and Cassian knew to leave him be.

And perhaps they should have retired to the House of Wind once he’d gone, but… neither of them moved.

The silence shifted, deepened, so complete that Cassian could hear the wind outside, and—

There.

There it was again, that twist in his gut. Beneath the fatigue, the lingering exhaustion, it was some instinct that had yet to settle, still on high alert. He might have brushed it off, but… no. In the silence and the dark he could tell now— this was something else. His tongue felt heavy, his blood felt cold, and there— right there, right where his heart was, there was something squeezing tight, like a vice that stopped him getting his breath.

Something was wrong.

“Az,” he said quietly. “I don’t think this is over.”

His brother shook his head. “The wards are up. You heard Amren.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“They won’t take us by surprise again, Cass.” The shadowsinger’s jaw was tight, his lips pressed thin as his scarred hands flexed on the arm of the chair, fingers curling into a fist. No, Azriel would not be taken unawares again. He’d taken the attack on Velaris as personally as any of them. “I’ve had shadows on the coast all night. Nothing out there moves without me being aware of it.”

But Cassian shook his head. “I just—” He rubbed his chest, where the ache had grown sharp. “I can feel it.”

Az shrugged. “Probably adrenaline left over from the attack.” He offered him a small smile, one that tried in vain to lighten the atmosphere. “After all, it’s been a while since you’ve fought in battle. You’re out of shape, general.”

Any other time, Cassian would have laughed. Flipped him off. Thrown out a leg and kicked Az in the ankle. Any other time, the teasing would have been welcome. But—

“That’s what I thought at first,” Cassian countered instead, that feeling growing teeth now, clawing him apart from the inside out. “But I don’t think so.”

There was a pause.

Azriel opened his mouth, but it was clear he didn’t know what to say. They had all of them learned to trust Cassian’s battlefield instincts over the centuries, but this was something else. Something he couldn’t articulate, and it wasn’t Velaris in danger now. No, as Cassian felt his heartbeat stumble, he knew it was something much farther south.

“Send a shadow beneath the wall,” he whispered. “Check they’re alright.”

Az sighed softly. “Have you heard something from the men down there?”

No— no, he hadn’t. And that wasn’t a bad thing, was it? They had nothing to report. But—

“I just know something isn’t right, Az.” Gods, his chest was twisting, knotting itself. And then it yanked, a determined pull on the bond, like it was trying to get his attention. “It’s Nesta,” he added, his voice threatening to crack. “Please. I have a bad feeling and I can’t— I need to know that she’s alright.”

There was another moment of silence.

“Please,” Cassian said again, and this time his voice did crack. “Just send one shadow— just to her house.”

He was all too aware of what he was asking.

Azriel had all of his shadows out patrolling the city, spread thin across the coast to ensure nothing slipped past them in the night. Cassian wanted one of them to be pulled away and sent down below the wall, when it was better used up here, defending the city until the sun could rise again.

And Az was tired— they all were. It was why Cassian wasn’t flying down there now to find out himself. He couldn’t. He didn’t think he could even make it upstairs to his bed, and Azriel was the same. They weren’t just exhausted— they were emptied of energy entirely, so completely sapped of strength from those long, long moments where they’d defended Velaris alone.

A shadow was the best Cassian could do.

At last Az’s face softened. “Alright,” he conceded.

With a flick of his fingers he dispatched a shadow, and then— all that there was left to do was wait.

It took a while— ten minutes, twenty, thirty, Cassian didn’t know. He’d stopped keeping track of time.

And when that shadow slunk across the floor, all he knew was that his heart was in his mouth. A chill crawled up his spine, a breathless kind of concern forcing its way through his veins, and in the moment that Azriel was quiet, taking in whatever it was the shadow reported, Cassian could have sworn time halted altogether.

The silence stretched.

Endless.

And then, at last, Azriel spoke.

“There’s nothing,” he said calmly. “The Mandray house is quiet. The men you sent are still there, hiding unnoticed at the perimeter. The shadow didn’t go inside, but it seems that everyone under that roof is asleep.”

Cassian swallowed.

But in the place where he expected relief to swell, there was nothing but a hollow ache, a distant kind of drumming. That feeling in his chest didn’t vanish. But if the shadow Az sent below the wall said everything was fine, and the Illyrians were still keeping watch, then…

Fucking hell, maybe he was losing his touch.

Perhaps it was the way he’d fought a battle in Velaris today, the one place he’d always thought would be safe. Perhaps it was the way he’d watched Feyre fall to the earth, to the streets that even now were still coated with red, fae, blood. It had thrown him, made him doubt everything and had concern blooming in places it didn’t need to be.

Nesta was safe.

Nesta had his men watching over her.

So, reluctantly, Cassian let it go.

In the darkness, as he closed his eyes on that armchair, too tired to climb the stairs and fall into a proper bed, he repeated it until he could feel sleep beginning to drag him under.

Safe.

Nesta was safe.

***

Below the wall, in Nesta Archeron’s darkened bedroom, the silence echoed.

Well.

In her borrowed bedroom, the silence echoed.

She couldn’t sleep, her ears ringing with the quiet, and in her thin, threadbare nightgown, she turned uncomfortably in a bed more than big enough for two. The weak moonlight streamed through the windows - past the curtains she hadn’t bothered to draw - and glanced off the gilded sconces that held unlit candles, the vast dressing table that should have held glass bottles of perfume and yet stood empty.

Once, she’d been comfortable with finery. Accustomed to it.

Now she felt as out of place here as she did in the Mandray estate.

Her mind wouldn’t quiet. As she lay in the dark, her thoughts wouldn’t still long enough to let her sleep, and maybe it was something to do with the dagger she kept beneath her pillow and the piece of string tied around her wrist, the glass beads and the little silver star winking at her in the darkness.

No, she didn’t quite know where home was anymore, but if she had to guess… well, maybe they were a good place to start.

After all, over the past two days she’d had a lot of time to think about what she would do when this war was over. Where she would be, and which side of the wall she would find herself on. Though it had seemed abhorrent to her not too long ago… the land above the wall suddenly seemed to hold far more promise than the land beneath.

She shook her head now, shifting her gaze to the ceiling. All moulded plaster-work and painted cornices.

Two days.

She had been here two days, and Elain’s dreams were getting worse.

It didn’t matter that Nesta slept in the room next door. Didn’t make any difference, either, that when Nesta had ventured into the village and handed over five gold coins at the apothecary for cold remedies - for believability, Elain had insisted - she’d also picked up some chamomile and crushed lavender and tucked it beneath her sister’s pillow.

Elain still emerged from her bedchamber each morning with pale cheeks and shadows beneath her eyes.

They come for us, Elain whispered at breakfast, when Nesta asked what haunted her the moment she closed her eyes. All claws and teeth and darkness, shattered glass and screams.

Nesta didn’t know what to say anymore. All she could do was pat her sister gently on the arm, and wonder whether it might help if she started sleeping in Elain’s bed, so that there was someone beside her when she woke. Suddenly it felt like it hadn’t been a lie at all when she’d told her husband Elain was ill.

“Elain is sick,” she’d said briskly when she returned to the Mandray house to pack her things after the meeting with the queens. She’d hoped to leave a note for Tomas on the table and slip out without seeing him, but he’d caught her in the bedroom they shared, putting nightdresses into a canvas bag.

She hadn’t looked at him— at the green eyes and dark blonde hair of the man she’d married. But Tomas’ hand had darted out as she folded shifts into her small bag, fingers closing around her wrist and pulling, hauling her forwards as her shift fell from her hands. His grip had tightened, and Nesta had been shocked at first, blinking in surprise. Oh, Tomas had been cruel in so many ways, but never like that. Never like his father.

“Don’t forget that you’re my wife,” he’d hissed, “And don’t think I won’t find out if you’re lying.”

His eyes had dropped to the bracelet on her wrist, his lip curling. It was clear he hadn’t bought her tale about the bracelet being a gift from Elain. Clear, too, that Tomas thought Nesta was spending these days in another man’s bed— another man’s arms, and she’d shot him a look that might have scorched the flesh from his bones had she the power. The audacity of him to accuse her of lying— when he spent most nights in the bed of some poor, unsuspecting tavern girl.

She had wrenched herself free, hoping the friction burned his palm as much as it did her wrist. And when she looked at him, Nesta had seen only a pitiful, wretched excuse of a boy, parading as a man.

Hatred had burned in her veins, and she’d thought of how Cassian had wiped her tears in front of those queens. How there had been such breathtaking conviction in his eyes that she hadn’t doubted him for a second when he said he’d go to war for her.

The thought of it - of him - had made her sneer right back at the man she’d married in the hope of salvation.

“If I’m lying?” she’d shot back, looking at Tomas with a kind of contempt she was’t able to mask any longer. “Elain knows about you, you know. About the girls you bed from the tavern.”

Her voice was just as flat as his, just as acidic. In all the weeks since Elain had told Nesta she’d heard of Tomas’ antics in the village, she hadn’t said a word. She’d been content to let him carry on, because after all, if he was in someone else’s bed it meant he wasn’t in hers, but now—

Nesta had had enough.

“If you think she or my father will be giving you so much as a single copper from their coffers ever again, you’re mistaken.”

Tomas had scowled, eyes darkening with a kind of vitriol that made every bone in Nesta’s body rattle with contempt.

“Then you’ll be suffering alongside us,” he’d retorted. “When we starve, you starve. When we freeze, you freeze.”

Nesta didn’t say that she had no intention of remaining his wife beyond Elain’s wedding. None at all. No, as soon as her sister was settled, as soon as Nesta was certain that Greysen wouldn’t turn out to be just like Tomas…

She was leaving.

No, instead she laughed, and when she spoke she made her voice cold and cruel. “You forget, husband, that I have starved before. I survived too many winters with no food and no fuel for fire to fear it again. Your threats are as empty as this marriage.” She finished packing her bag and smoothed a hand down her skirts. “You don’t scare me, Tomas.”

He had huffed, fury seeping from his every pore, but Nesta had only brushed passed him and tossed over her shoulder,

“I’ll be staying with my sister for the rest of the week at least.”

And now she lay in her bed at the manor, idly twirling a piece of her unbound hair around her finger.

Distantly, she could hear voices.

Earlier, when she’d looked out of the window, she’d seen the moonlight glance off the edge of a bottle, saw green and blue stones gleaming through the trees— siphons, just like Cassian and Azriel’s, though none in that shade of ruby that made her heart beat faster.

The warriors Cassian had sent were drinking— glamoured, she supposed, so none but she could see or hear them, but drinking nonetheless. Their laughter echoed through the woods that bordered the estate - raucous, like this was a game to them - but she supposed that even tipsy warriors were a better defence than nothing, and anyway, she doubted they were really needed. It was to make Elain feel better more than anything, to help her sleep soundly as much as the lavender Nesta placed beneath her pillow.

It was clear the Illyrians outside didn’t expect trouble.

Nesta didn’t either, and as she closed her eyes against the night, she felt sleep beginning to creep up on her at last. She let herself drift, thinking of crimson siphons glowing at the edge of the estate instead, dreaming of wings silvered by the moon and hazel eyes made gold beneath the starlight. He made her feel warm, safe, and—

Suddenly, she darted awake.

There was a change in the air, something she could sense but didn’t know how to name.

It was quiet.

The voices at the edge of the estate had gone silent, but the hush that crawled through the Archeron manor was not empty.

It was the kind of quiet that was wrong somehow, the kind that her blood turning to ice in her veins. Her hair stood on end, and her heart hammered in her chest as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her ears strained for any kind of sound, but there was nothing, not even the wind rattling the shutters outside.

It was a careful silence.

A deliberate silence.

And then—

All at once the quiet was rent apart, and in the darkness, Nesta Archeron heard the sound of breaking glass, the slamming of a door—

And her sister’s screams.

Taglist: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss @hereforthenessian @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @the-lost-changeling @valkyriesupremacy @that-little-red-head @sv0430

#nessian #begged & borrowed time #……😈

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newtonsheffield · 10 months

Note

So obviously we're going to need a spicy sunday of the parent trap au kate and anthony having sex for the first time after they re-meet

Oh bless them. After nearly six years they’re definitely a little handsy. We have to remember that they’re also still only like… 27.

Kate could feel Anthony behind her, feel the tension prickling down her spine as his hand settled on her hip, pulling her back against his chest.

“They’re happy.”

His voice was deep, tickling her ear, the gentle hum of it bringing goosebumps to her arms as she nodded. “It’s probably not great parenting from us to put them in the same bed.”

Anthony chuckled, his arms tightening possessively around her waist. “Tomorrow I’ll get them bunk beds. That’s clearly what they’re angling for. If they want to share a room instead of Miles having the spare room, I’m fine with it.”

Kate nodded, the enormity of the afternoon, this night, settling in her shoulders. She wasn’t leaving London at all. There was still so much to settle and yet none of it seemed to matter. Selling the house in Bristol, bringing all of their things here, none of that seemed to matter. All that mattered was Anthony, with his arm wrapped around her, moulding their lives back together again.

“To be honest, he’s probably gonna need one of the spare rooms for all of his things anyway.” Kate hummed, spinning in his arms to look in his eyes.

He looked older than the day she’d left, his jaw more angular and his beard full now, rather than the stubble he’d left when they’d first met. He’d already taken his glasses off but they made him seem more mature, sensible and settled and grown. This version of Anthony was confident in who he was, he;d processed his grief and come out the other side, confident and focused on his growth, and his son. Their son. And something about that drew her in even more. Everything she’d loved about him was still there. His odd, stiff, sense of humour and his smile was just the same, boyish and charming. He was such a nurturer at heart, he always was and it was the unashamed way he showed it that had lead her to accept the proposal of a 20 year old boy as they stood on the dock, a cruise ship behind them.

“Hey, do you want to marry me?!”

She’d gaped at him then, “What?!”

He shrugged, grinning at her with his shirt unbuttoned and his bare chest shining int he sun. “I’m so in love with you, and I think this could be incredible. Marry me.”

“Yes.”

“So, I’ve also been thinking, that second little sitting room downstairs might make a nice little writer’s den.” Anthony was grinning at her now, his eyes shining, “I’m thinking like dark academia vibes. Huge big desk, leather sofa floor to ceiling bookshelves. We can pick it out tomorrow!”

Kate’s stomach fluttered, “That… sounds really nice actually.”

“I know it does! The smell of tobacco hanging in the air. Give it a bit of gravitas.”

“I don’t smoke?” Kate chuckled, “Have you taken up the habit?”

He rolled his eyes, “No, I was thinking a candle.”

“You… know about candle scents now?”

Anthony preened, his lips brushing hers. “I know about all sorts of things now.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.” He pressed against her until she was sandwiched lightly between his body and the wall. “Do you want to talk about how much I know about laundry now? That’s very impressive. Neddy’s little socks are always ironed.”

“I don’t want to talk about laundry.” There was an ache in her chest now, spreading through her entire body at the press of him against her.

“No?” Something dark flashed in his eyes and his lips brushed gently against hers, “Do you want to talk about what a good cook I am now? I’ve taken a lot of classes.”

“I don’t want to talk about that now either.” She let herself relax against him as her lips found his again.

It felt so different, and yet familiar, the press of of his lips against hers. His hands tightened on her waist and pressed her impossibly closer to his chest as their lips moved together and heat built slowly between them. His lips were a little rough and his beard scratched against her skin and it made her spine shiver against him. Anthony let out a low moan at the feel of her tongue against hers. Kate felt her hands twist themselves in the front of his sweater and she tugged him forward until his entire body was pressed against her.

Anthony’s hand slid to her thighs and he tugged her legs around his waist and she heard her own moan echo in the corridor.

“Fuck.” Anthony let out a sharp groan and his hips ground against her, “We shouldn’t have sex outside our twins’ bedroom.”

Kate nodded, but she squeezed her thighs around his waist and her breath came in sharp pants, “Right, we’re responsible parents now. We can’t have sex in the hallway anymore.”

He let out a gasp, and his eyes darkened and she knew he was remembering just the same way she was , “That was a good night though.”

“It was a very good night.”

He let out a grunt as he pushed off the wall and carried her down the hallway, fumbling at the door of the bedroom that had once been hers as well as his. The room that would be hers again. They burst through the door and it slammed shut behind them.

“Do you want the boys to wake up?!” Kate hissed a giggle rising in her throat as Anthony dropped her against the mattress as he tripped over her suitcase left at the end of the bed earlier. “Quiet.”

Anthony looked up at her through the hair falling in his eyes, “Sorry, I never like… done this with my kids down the hall.”

“Me either but I know enough not to wake them up.” Kate chuckled, tugging him forward by the waistband of his jeans.

Anthony leant over her, his knee nudging her thighs apart as his lips found hers again, rougher and deeper this time as his weight settled over her. She let out a loud moan helplessly and her hips bucked up against his before he pulled back, grinning at her. “I thought you said we were being quiet.”

Kate rolled her eyes, tugging his sweater over his head and then her own. His wedding ring and hers were hanging on a chain around his neck just as they had been a few weeks ago when she’d found herself pressed against his wet chest and her stomach had dropped and her body had seemed to remember exactly what to do. Exactly what it would feel like as she moved above him, under him. She hadn’t let herself do what she wanted to then but she let herself do it now. She let herself smile at him and slide the finger of her left hand through the ring and tug gently until his neck bowed to the pressure and his lips found hers again with a desperate moan.

There was a desperate fumble as the kiss deepened between them and Anthony shed the rest of their clothes until there was nothing left between them. He stared down at her, his eyes shining at her, a smile on his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

It settled in her chest and she let her fingers run through his hair. “I love you.”

His smile was so beautiful, “I love you too. Always did.”

Their moans mingled together as their lips met again and the rest of their bodies did as well. Anthony’s forehead fell against hers and his eyes screwed shut. A muscle clenched in his jaw as their hips rocked together slowly.

Oh Holy Fuck Kate.

She nodded against him, beyond words as their bodies met again and again and her hand stayed twisted in the chain around his neck holding them together. Heat was licking at her stomach already, warmth spreading deliciously through her as Anthony kept the steady rhythm between them. Anthony’s cheeks flushed and sweat slicked their bodies. This too felt familiar and different, the angles of his body different but not unsettlingly, it felt comforting, a sign of the growth they’d both gone through and yet they’d found each other again.

Her pleasure built slowly and yet it still caught her off guard as she tumbled over the edge, her body shivering gently against his but Anthony didn’t stop. His hands found her waist and legs tangled with hers minced quickly, rolling them until she was settled on top of him. Her shoulders heaved and her legs shook a little with the exertion as Anthony’s hands tightened on her hips.

“That move used to be your favourite.”

Anthony grinned at her, settled against the pillows smugly, one hand pressed against her stomach the other guiding her. “I still like it. The view is… still stunning.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t have it in her to say anything else as she tossed her hair back, bracing one hand behind her and snapping her hips down against him. Anthony let out a tortured moan and his eyes rolled back and they lost themselves in the rhythm again, moving faster and faster. She could see the red marks her fingernails were leaving on his chest, see the diamond ring shining on her hand and something in her chest burned for it, for Anthony. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the roughness of his hands and the tension in the room was stifling and she felt her muscles coiling tighter again. Tighter and tighter. She felt Anthony’s legs start to shake under her and his hips bucked erratically. His hand tightened on the back of her neck, tugging until their lips met roughly, teeth clashing as they fell apart together.

Anthony’s arms crushed her to his chest as their bodies shook and sweat cooled between them, the smell of them hanging in the air.

“I missed you.”

Kate nodded, kissing his neck gently. “I love you.”

Anthony let out a content little noise, his eyes screwed shut. “I think I should keep the chain. You like that.”

Her laugh echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls. “It’s a bit sexy. I like sexy Dad Anthony.”

He opened one eye, scratching his beard, “Jesus, wait until you see my Birkenstocks.”

“Oh. Be still my beating heart.”

#parent trap au #you’re losing me au #spicy sunday🌶️#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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qu0kkarambles · 2 years

Text

Patience kitten

Warnings - smut (minors dni), pet play (kitten), collars, ears, spanking, cum play?, oral, fingering, pet names, degrading, praise, dom hee sub reader, swearing

Authors note- as always I haven’t proofread and it’s a lil short but hopefully the person this was written for likes it

2k words

Your day had been long. Waking at 5am was still ungodly to you, and after 3 weeks at your new job your body clock was still not adapting. Trudging into your apartment at 6pm, you sluggishly slipped your shoes off, almost ready to crash when you saw the small brown box laid by your front door. The parcel you’d been waiting months for had finally arrived.

After shipping delays and missing deliveries, you’re items had finally made it to you and you could barely contain your excitement. Rushing to the sofa, you ripped open the box, carefully moving aside tissue paper and thank you notes to reveal the softest, baby pink cat ears. Beneath the perfectly brushed fur ears lay a matching collar, baby pink leather perfectly accented by a small pink bell. You lifted the ears carefully out of the box, placing them gently on the small coffee table in front of you before reaching once more into the box, the smooth leather of the collar soft against your fingertips. You pulled it out and turned it over in your hands, admiring the high quality of the finish as well as the little jingles coming from the bell with each movement.

Hurriedly, you rushed toward the mirror, checking your hair before perfectly positioning the ears on your head, and carefully securing the collar. You’d had a lot of experience with collars. It was something you and your boyfriend heeseung had experimented a lot with, and so you knew exactly how to secure it, how loose it needed to be, and how to release it in case of an emergency. You had always felt more at ease with a collar, the familiar weight around your neck bringing comfort and safety. With a sense of calm surrounding you once the collar was secure, you looked once more in the mirror to finally properly admire the baby pink fur adorning your head. The fluffy ears were perfectly situated on your crown, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Finally getting your fill of your own reflection, you moved back toward the sofa, cleaning up the parcels packaging before sitting down to relax, a sense of calm enveloping your body as you finally rested. You intended to sit for 5 minutes before rising to make dinner, but within 5 minutes you had fallen asleep, head laid on the plush sofa and feet gently tucked in. The collar hung loosely around you neck to not restrict any breathing, and your ears were perched on your head to the point you looked just like a kitten, curled on the sofa for your cat nap.

And that was the first thought that crossed heeseungs mind as he entered the room, eyes full of love for you as he took in the sight before him. In your sleep, your pleated skirt had risen, showing off your beautiful thighs, and you released a cute little sigh as you adjusted your position, changing into a more comfortable one.

‘She’s so precious’ he thought to himself.

Noticing your new collar and matching ears, he moved closer to where your sleeping figure lay. Admiring them closer, he could see a small ‘H’ engraved on the bell of your collar. The small sign of ownership went straight to his dick, and he was blushing at how cute you were. He stood slowly and moved to sit beside you, lifting your head gently to lay on his lap. He stayed there, your head on his thighs, for what felt like hours.

When he finally felt you stirring below him, he looked down to see your eyes fluttering open, face snuggling further into his thighs below. ‘Morning kitten’ he whispered lowly as you woke, the sound of his voice pulling you quicker from your sleep. You turned more on your back as you lay, and his bright eyes looking down at you made your heart skip a beat. Looking up at him from this angle you looked so innocent and pure, the kitten ears still snugly resting in your hair, collar loose around your neck. He looked at you with adoration, a gentle hand stroking over your cheek as you became more awake.

With your head on his thighs, your kitten ears perched on your head and your pink leather collar loose around your throat, you were his fever dream. ‘Hi hee’ you chuckled out as he continued to stroke your cheek absentmindedly. ‘Long day kitten?’ he questioned, his metal rimmed glasses slipping down his nose as he did. You giggled at his cuteness as you pushed them up the bridge of his nose, brushing your thumb against his lips as you did and earning a sweet kiss against your thumb.

‘It was long but good. Just really tired’ you replied, getting easily distracted by the uneven hoodie strings dangling above you. You batted them playfully while telling your boyfriend of your stressful day, completely unaware of how captivated he was by you. Enticed by every word that left you lips, he interrupted your rambling with a small kiss on you nose, smiling at how flushed and flustered you became. ‘You’re so cute kitten’ he said, giggling as you continued to play with his hoodie strings, tugging and pulling them gently as you spoke.

As you continued to lay cuddled up with heeseung, you hadn’t notice your skirt slowly riding up your thighs higher and higher. The extra skin exposed wasn’t unnoticed by heeseung though, as he tried to contain himself and distract his eyes from your flawless thighs. Your cute wiggles in his lap wasn’t helping him contain himself, and before he knew it he was beginning to strain obviously against the front of his jeans. With where your head was laid, he was panicking more and more about how obvious his arousal would be. You turned your head toward him and felt the strain beneath you, giggling at heeseungs blush as he too realised.

‘Need kitten to help you baby?’ You chuckled, shifting to change your position. Within seconds you were on your front, heeseungs jeans around his knees as you placed soft kisses against his tip, teasing. Without warning, you took his whole length down your throat, bobbing at a brutal pace as he flung his head back. Head back and eyes closed, his hand went fraught to your hair, stroking your hair and tugging on the strands as your mouth worked magic on him. ‘Fuck kitten so good. My pretty fucking kitten oh my god fuck.’ His praise only spurred you on, paying more attention to his tip as he twitched beneath you. ‘Fuck kitten gonna cum fuck.’ He released into your mouth as you swallowed around him, placing kisses over his length as you cleaned every drop from him.

‘Fuck kitten so perfect for me’ he said as he pulled your face up towards his own, capturing your lips with his. Your kiss deepens as you moved to straddle his lap, arms around his neck. He lifts you into his arms before placing you back on your sofa, now hovering over you as he covers your face and jaw with sloppy kisses and small praises. His hands roamed from your face, down your sides and over your thighs as he lifted the hem of your skirt higher, exposing more of you.

Kissing his way down your neck, he placed a kiss on your collar, admiring the material before continuing downward. Lingering over your chest he left small red marks, creating a pattern with his movements. He suckled on your skin with such precision as you gasped and moaned beneath him, purring as he left the larger, deeper red marks. He worked his way across your stomach, teasing his way to your core. By the time his lips kissed the inside of your thighs, you were begging for him. ‘Please hee need you please’ your begging made him stop to look at you, admiring how desperate you were for him.

‘So pretty when you beg kitten’ he said before licking a stripe up your core, your mewling spurring him on as he began to lap at your entrance. You were moaning and whimpering beneath him in a matter of minutes, and before long he was sliding one finger into your entrance, feeling how you clenched around him. He slowly worked you open, adding another finger once he knew you could take it while continuing to suck your clit, your moans heavenly in his ears. ‘Fuck heeseung ‘m close so close’ your breathy warning did little to slow your boyfriend, as he continued to work his magic

‘Cum for me kitten’ he said into your skin as you fell apart beneath him. You clenched around his fingers as your legs began to shake . He continued his ministrations on your body until you were through your high, and began kissing up your stomach once again once he was finished, still worshipping every inch of you. He captured your lips with his again, the taste of your own cum on his turning you on again. You could feel heeseungs arousal against your thigh, and as you lifted your hips to meet his you were caught by surprise when he tugged on your collar. ‘So impatient kitten. Guess I need to fill you up. Make you less of a greedy kitty.’

He lifted his entire weight off of you, moving to stand as you squirmed your hips on the sofa, still needy. You sat up before heeseung manhandled you, setting you on your feet with your hands on the back of the sofa, bent over for him. With your skirt still round your hips and dripping core pointed at him, ears sticking up from your head, you were perfection. He lined his length up to your core and without warning bottomed out, every inch of his length filling you deliciously.

The second his large hands made contact with the skin on your ass you helped out, the sting unexpected yet perfect. He began moving at a quick pace, sending more spanks between thrusts until his hand was imprinted on your flesh. You were a mess beneath him, moans and curses falling out of your mouth unfinished as you came close to your high once more. You fell over the edge when heeseung grabbed your collar from behind, using it to pull your body towards his. The pressure against your throat felt incredible, and the soft bell contrasting your deep moans sent you over the edge, clenching once more around your boyfriend.

‘Pretty kitten cumming so good for me. Get on your knees pretty’ he demanded, pulling out of your slick entrance. You positioned yourself on your knees infront of you while he jerked himself, hips stuttering as he came over your face, your open mouth catching most of his release. Once he finished, he caught the cum from over your cheeks on his fingers and fed it to you, your tongue leaving kitten licks over his fingers. You sucked his fingers clean and swallowed every drop you could, desperate to be a good kitten for him. Heeseung left you on your knees for a second, returning with a damp cloth to clean your face of any stickiness. With a clean face he lifted you from your knees, and went to remove your ears and collar.

‘Want to keep them on hee’ you pouted, not wanting to remove them just yet. ‘I know kitten but you can’t wear them in the shower they’ll get damaged. And you need to shower come on.’ Still pouting you allowed him to take the ears and collar off you, carefully placing them on the coffee table before walking with you to the bathroom. Running the water for a few seconds, you both stepped in and washed each other’s bodies, the warm water flowing over you both cleaning the suds.

You stepped out into heeseungs arms, the fluffy towel he was holding for you wrapped around you tightly as you moved to your bedroom, drying off and putting on fresh pajamas before snuggling under the covers. You started to get comfortable when heeseung left your side, returning a moment later with your collar from the other room. He lifted you to sit up before loosely securing it around your neck. Feeling safe and secure, you laid back down, heeseungs arms over your waist as you drifted off to sleep.

#kpop #kpop smut #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours

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paperclip-skz · 24 days

Text

Crave ( part 1 ) | S |

reader x Felix

*WARNING*

contains: teasing, oral (f receiving)

WC: 748

| Imagine |

You went to the club to have a good time but something unexpected happened.

************************************************************************

The room is a blur. Filled with shining bright lights and fun colors, all I can see is the fog and shimmer above. The dance floor is filled to the brim with sweaty bodies all moving to the slow manipulating rhythm of the music. Until I feel his hands. I feel his heavy breathing. I feel his clothes rubbing against my bare back. The dress I’m wearing presents my cleavage pretty well, but the back is completely naked and empty. I was skeptical at first, it was an off-color, dark, and mysterious, not me at all. However, the red color accentuates every curve perfectly.

We don’t stop, he keeps grinding his groin into my ass. Usually, I would be ashamed to be doing this, hell I would’ve probably slapped him in the face and ran. But, there’s something about him I can’t put my finger on. Is it his cologne? Maybe his control over my body, directing every move to push me further into him? Or perhaps, it's his lustful energy, I can practically lick it off of him.

He’s flush against my back and leans into me to whisper something into my ear. “The name’s Felix”. Every nerve in my body lights on fire. A shiver travels down my spine from his deep voice and thick accent, it's incredible that I can stand upright.

I angle my head to him so that way I can meet him eye to eye. I try to study his features as best as I can, his long blond hair and his sharp jawline. I couldn’t describe it even if I tried, his eyes are like an endless black pit. A pool of darkness to get lost in, but I quite like the dark.

“Y/N” I reply, he pushes my hair over my shoulder leaving enough room to put his lips inches from mine. He keeps his hands on my hips swaying me back and forth against his crotch, keeping us on beat with the pounding music. I can feel him growing harder with every motion, it's enough to send a girl begging. I can’t take it anymore, I have to at least meet his eyes. I turn myself around and he pulls me flush up against his chest, pulling me even closer than before. Our lips are practically at a whisper of a touch.

“Y/N?” he whispers.

“Yes?” I reply without hesitation.

“I need you…Now” Without a moment to waste he grabs my arm out of the club and we make our way to the entrance. The fresh air hits my skin like water on fire. My body starts to cool off from the events that happened only moments ago, but the flame is quickly back the moment he takes my hand. My smile hasn’t left since the second I hit the dance floor, it's only grown since he showed up. “This way” are the only words he says as he pulls me to the parking lot.

An hour of heated tension in the car later, we enter what I assume is his apartment. It's beautiful, filled to the brim with prestigious art and furniture.

I barely have a moment to take in every detail of the room before he grabs my hips and presses his lips to mine. His taste is not only addictive but sweet with a memorizing aftertaste. I travel my hand up his chest and tangle my fingers in his long hair. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

He takes me to the couch and sets me down on his sofa. The rough leather isn’t enough to cool my heated skin, not in the slightest. The fireplace beside us isn’t lit making it quiet and cold, but the fire between us is hungry and growing with every touch. As I’m being consumed by his kisses traveling down every part of my body, I feel the soft fabric of my dress lifting onto my stomach revealing my bright red laced panties. I try to pry off his button-down shirt, but he quickly meets my eyes. Hovering over me and staring down at me. “There will be time to undress me, but for now” Felix pauses and starts to slowly climb down my body, “I need to taste you”. I realize that his position is now directly in between my legs, and he kisses my inner thigh before continuing down to a place that only craves him more as he speaks.

#skz #smut #felix #lee felix #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #felix smut #story

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mintjamsblog · 11 months

Text

Phone call

Tommy/Alfie (+Cyril) drabble

It's gone 2 am when his phone rings, late enough that he knows nothing good'll come of answering. Private number the screen says. He hesitates, and swipes right with one hand pressed over his eyes.

There's silence at the other end, heavy and deliberate. He shouldn't have bloody well picked-up, but since when did shouldn't matter? Teeth clenched, he listens whilst a familiar weight settles itself in his stomach. Slowly he reaches over to mute the black and white war film he's been watching. He's long since lost the plot, having dozed on and off through most of it. Easy enough to guess the ending, they're all the bloody same — victory mixed with grief mixed with a dose of moral high ground. He leans back on the leather sofa to wait.

Beside him, Cyril opens his eyes and raises his chin a little. Alfie shakes his head in response — I know, mate, I fuckin' know. Cyril slumps back down on his paws. It's late, and Alfie's tired, and he ought to hang up right now. Never fucking does though, does he?

He tucks the phone into his shoulder and laces his hands together, stretching his arms out in front of him until the knuckles crack loudly.

Over his shoulder, in the kitchen, a little red clock on the oven indicates ten past. He watches the seconds blink, counts them in his head as if he suspects the digital display is trying to cheat him. It isn't. Time ticks by just as slowly as it always bloody does.

"Right then," he says when the minutes have clicked over to eleven. "Time you went out, Cyril."

He puts his phone onto speaker and sets it on the coffee table. There's movement at the other end of the line, a shuffling sound and breaths. Still there then.

Cyril's reluctant to move from his spot; it's cold outside and he has no desire to leave the warmth of the sofa. Alfie grabs hold of his collar and hauls him over the edge. Cyril moves like a sack of potatoes, waiting until the last bloody second to plant his feet on the rug. One of these days he'll forget to bother and land like a seal on his belly, looking pretty fucking embarrassed.

"Oi," Alfie curses mildly. "Mind me fucking feet!"

There's another noise from the coffee table. Footsteps, perhaps, the rhythm scuffed and uneven. Alfie takes Cyril to the back door and shoves him into the garden. "That's it, go sniff out some rats. Do yer fuckin' business."

He slides the door closed and peers out, watching Cyril plod towards the shed. As he steps back he catches sight of himself in the door — it's dark inside and out, and so the television flickers both behind him and in front of him, reflected in the black glass. He looks like a ghostly figure trapped between two realms — hair stuck out at all angles, fingers entwined at the back of his head. He really should hang up. Put an end to this fucking charade.

He will. When Cyril comes in.

There's a deep cough and a slurred word from the coffee table. Alfie doesn't turn, he watches the phone screen flicker in the glass, as if seeing it in reverse somehow means he ain't complicit.

"M'sorry," the phone-voice says, and Alfie closes his eyes, holds his hands briefly over his ears.

"Tommy" —he turns back towards the room— "go the fuck to bed, alright?"

The line goes quiet once more, save for the distinctive slosh of liquid against glass. "I know you don't wanna hear it."

Oh how much Alfie wishes that were true. He squats in front of the little screen, rests his head in his hands. How many nights has he spent searching for an explanation he could stomach? Bargaining with unknown gods for Tommy to deliver anything close to a palatable excuse? He listens to Tommy swallow. His heart feels like a butterfly being squashed by a giant fist.

"S'true. I'm so fucking sorry. If I could just ... if I could go back, Alfie—"

Alfie stands too suddenly. Strides away, black spots speckling his vision. He wrenches open the back door. "Cyril!" he bellows into the night. "Get your arse back in here." His skin feels hot in the gush of cool air. His pulse unaccountably fast. He slams the door and locks it, ushering Cyril towards the stairs. "Bed!" he barks at the dog. Cyril makes his way out to the hall, obedient in the way he only is when he likes the order.

The phone remains silent as Alfie checks the kitchen window, locks the front door, turns off the TV. He glares at the coffee table, willing Tommy to speak. Or not to speak. He doesn't fucking know. He picks the phone up, thumb hovering over the power button. It's a simple enough fucking thing: switch it off, go to bed.

"Don't go." Tommy's voice is a whisper, so quiet it makes Alfie jump.

"Go to sleep, Tommy," he sighs and takes the phone upstairs. Cyril has already settled down at the foot of his bed, in the dark.

"Can't," comes Tommy's voice, thick and tired and undercut with that little thread of defiance that Alfie's too weary to deal with.

"Well some of us have to, mate." He puts the phone on his bedside without turning on the lamp — the shroud of darkness makes all of this somehow more deniable. He pulls off his clothes and shuffles beneath the duvet, the silence hammering at his ears.

"Good night." He means to sound final, but his voice is too soft, too quiet.

"Leave your phone on."

"Tommy. This has got to stop."

"Please."

"Why do you only ring me when you're out of your fucking tree?" He doesn't expect an answer. Doesn't get one neither.

"Please. Alfie."

"Fuck's sake. Five minutes, alright?" He turns over, closes his eyes.

Next thing he knows, it's light and there's a sick feeling in his stomach. He reaches out for his phone; the screen is black, the battery dead. He tucks it under his chin.

At the bottom of the bed Cyril huffs and rolls over, but refuses to take his usual spot on the other pillow. He peers up at Alfie with a disapproving look.

"I know, mate." Alfie sighs. "I fuckin' know, alright?"

Or read it on A03

#tommy/alfie #tommy x alfie #tofie #tomfie #sholomons #why has these fandom still not agreed on a name for this pairing?#my fic

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