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soraavalon · 1 year

Conversation

Marigold: [Sylvan] Why is the Summer Court so bent against you?

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] They wanted to use me once as a hound. When they found that I did not behave as they wished they banished me. And fearing what I am, they hoped to destroy me by driving me out of all the prosperous lands.

Marigold: [Sylvan] Hm...

Mistletoe: I think at some point in the telling that Mistletoe's just like under his breath, "Summer sucks."

DM: You see a smirk for the first time on the Lord's face.

Hunt: [in chat] Because most of the conversation is in Sylvan, Hunt's been updating the journal.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] They are foolish and selfish as they are overly proud and comfortable. But you are home and they have failed.

Marigold: [Sylvan] This is true.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] What would you like to do now?

Marigold: [Sylvan] I have no clue. Was kind of just set on getting to the Feywild and set on finding you and... I haven't thought about after.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] You have this new pack, you continue to hunt.

Marigold: [Sylvan] I mean, I guess? Could you come with us?

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] I will go as far as I am allowed. If it not an unwelcomed presence.

Marigold: [Sylvan] Are you allowed into the Material Plane?

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] If the door is opened.

Nathaniel (OOC): *stares at bivaxual*

DM: *laughing*

Marigold (OOC): There's a big woods.

Nathaniel (OOC): I'm not sure it's big enough.

Marigold (OOC): I can have my cake and eat it. This will be fine. Got my dad and my friends.

Nathaniel (OOC): You're gonna pull the anthropromorphic concept of hunger and hunting to the Prime Material?

Marigold (OOC): It seems like a plan that could not go wrong.

Hunt (OOC): That sounds like--

Nathaniel (OOC): Nathaniel's not part of this conversation he can't speak Sylvan.

Mistletoe: Mistletoe looks really hopeful.

Nathaniel (OOC): You're going to destroy the ecosystem. Great.

Hunt (OOC): The ecosystem is going to be destroyed.

Marigold (OOC): It's gonna be great.

DM: It's like having an outdoor cat that literally just fucks with everything.

Nathaniel (OOC): Ask him why... Oh he was coming to find you, wasn't he?

Marigold & Hunt (OOC): Yeah.

Marigold (OOC): Because he loves me. He should come to the Material Plane.

Nathaniel (OOC): [something] planning and [something]

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] I don't know if that would be wise though, Little Flower.

Nathaniel (OOC): Aww.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] But---

Marigold: [Sylvan] I don't wanna leave. Not without (?) you.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] I am with you. You carry my blessings and my magic. Give me your hand.

Marigold: I will do so.

DM: It is dwarfed in his massive long claws, he gently takes your hand and plucks your palm and then his own, and presses the wounds together.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] I am with you wherever you hunt. I will find you wherever you roam. If you need me, you can call. Simply leave the door cracked.

-one of my many cats meowing-

DM: mrrow

Marigold (OOC): Mood to be honest.

DM: Marigold just like, 'Mrow'

Marigold: Mary's just gonna sort of pout and snuggle in.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] I'm not going to send you away but I'm also not going to hold you if your new pack calls.

Marigold: I sort of look at everyone else. Mary is so torn.

Lord of the Hunt: [Sylvan] You don't have to decide now.

Marigold: [Sylvan] That's good 'cause I'm not going to. (OOC): Decisions are hard and this one is cruel.

#D&D mischief #Relni campaign #Relni Recap #Relni Chapter 41 #Bringing the Lord of the Hunt to the Material Plane may be like the equivalent of bringing a snake to Hawaii #or the Burmese pythons in the Everglades

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party-hearses · 7 months

Text

go ahead and cry, little girl

pairing: joel x f!reader (no use of y/n)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 2.4k

summary: daddy makes everything better.

warnings/tags: explicit smut, pwp, established relationship, softdom!joel, pre/no outbreak (up to you baby), brief mention of alcohol, daddy kink, pet names (baby, baby girl, little one, little girl), dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, size kink (big joel is big), overstimulation, creampie. lmk if i’m forgetting anything!

a/n: i said i needed to have the feelings fucked out of me, right?

huge thank you to @bastardmandennis for letting me cry and be dramatic about this, and @nostalxgic for beta-ing, and always being excited about what i’m working on 🖤

You’re two cocktails deep when Joel’s keys turn in the lock.

Anxious muscles carry you to meet him at the door, the overhead lights in the entryway low, cloaking you in shadow.

It startles him, a sharp hiss spit from between his teeth when he nearly bowls you over.

“Shit, baby. Scared me.”

He snaps the door shut behind him, massive frame silhouetted by the broken rays of light coming through the distorted glass.

“Daddy,” you whine in response, fingers already tugging on the cuff on his jean jacket, coaxing it off him.

It’s all he needs to hear.

Immediately, the jacket is on the floor, forgotten, and his hands are cradling your face tenderly.

“You need daddy?” he soothes, lips ghosting your own. You nod, doe-eyes wide and swimming with tears, bottom lip quivering in a pout.

“Baby…” he presses his mouth to yours hungrily, swallowing your pathetic hiccups, letting the way the tip of his tongue slides along the line of your lip finish his sentence. He opens you up for him, licking into you with a different kind of urgency, his tongue massaging hot against your own.

Open palms follow, slipping over the the sensitive flesh of your throat, thumbs tracing crescent moons into your jugular.

Your blood hums under his touch — blooms hot across the plane of your chest, thickens with anticipation. It would be too much, if it wasn’t exactly enough. If you didn’t need it.

His hands fall further, reassuring and insistent, until he’s scooping you up against him, one hand curved against the swell of your ass, fingertips edged just under the lace trim of your panties, the other splayed flat at the small of your back. You cling to him, arms locked around the heft of his neck, face nuzzled into the slope of his shoulder.

“Did my sweet baby have a bad day?” he mumbles into your hair, footfalls heavy in the narrow emptiness of the hallway leading to your bedroom.

You sniffle in response, tears still pinching at the backs of your eyes. He hums a condolence, a promise to make it better, into the delicate shell of your ear.

His arms tighten around you as he drops his body to the bed, positioning you securely in his lap. Absentmindedly, you grind down against him, desperate for him to have you now. To feel only him.

But you know he’ll take his time, given the way the hand on your back crawls up your spine to cradle the base of your skull in its palm. He laces his fingers in the roots of your hair, tugging just enough to tip your head back and meet your gaze.

Crystalline tears stream down the round of your cheeks, the torrid relief of finally being in Joel’s arms overwhelming. A small smile plays across his features when he sees them, eyes a cavernous, pooling black. He brings your face to his mouth, snaking his tongue out to catch the falling drops.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, baby girl.”

You whimper, writhing against his hold — a feeble attempt to roll your hips against his hard length eliciting a pitiful laugh from him.

“No, little one. You know the rules. Let daddy take care of you.”

Another hiccup, more tears, and a supplicant nod follow his command. He purrs against you, hand roaming around the gentle curve of your thigh to your center, where his thumb strokes soft lines across your throbbing clit. A reward for your capitulation.

You squirm under his ministrations, a dark pool of slick soaked across the material of your panties. His pressure remains consistent; practically feather-light and sumptuously tortuous.

The combination of soft lace and calloused skin drives you wild — makes you cant your hips forward, chasing his touch. Even though you know better.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, tsk tsk, before skimming his other hand down the span of your arm to capture both your wrists in one massive palm behind your back. The muscles in your thighs quiver, knees dug into the bed on either side of him, overextended from the precarious act of balancing on his lap.

You flex your arms against his grasp, wiggling your ass for some kind of leverage. His grip only tightens — pushes forward to arch your body towards him, to press your chest flush to his.

“Little girl…” it’s a warning, his voice dripping as wet as your tears against the dip of your collarbone.

All you can manage is a broken mewl in the shape of his name, letters italicized and underlined with earnest desire. You know it’s exactly what he wants — to break you open completely, flesh and muscle and bone softened into something perfect and pliant.

“Need you, daddy. Need you,” you plead quietly.

His thumb strokes faster, harder. The zipper of his jeans bites into the place your thigh meets your pelvis, the sting of it sending shivers through you when he raises his hips.

“Say please, baby. Ask me nice.”

You don’t need to be told a second time.

“Please, daddy.”

He hums in pleased approval, pausing to skate the angle of his nose against the cut of your jaw.

“Let me undress you, little one.” He tugs your arms back, cupping your ass to steady you as you straighten your legs to shakily stand.

You watch the pull of his biceps through half-lidded eyes as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, laving tender kisses across your belly as he eases them down to your ankles. Your fingers clutch his disheveled curls for balance as he does, every graze of his skin against yours dizzying.

His hands slide back up your calves and thighs, languorous and reverent, beard scratching sinful against your softness. The clench of your cunt is persistent, slick dripping down the flesh of your thighs without your panties to stop it.

Your lashes flutter closed, bitten lips popping open as you let the feel of him consume you. It’s the sweep of his fingers that you focus on as they climb up, up, up, bypassing the place you need his touch most, to delve below your t-shirt.

He cups the fullness of your tits there, swiping his thumbs across your sensitive nipples before rolling them to taut peaks between his deft fingers. Sparks of pleasurepain wind through you when he pinches and pulls at them, soft moans decorating the space between your bodies.

The shirt comes off, then, his need growing to mirror your own, his touch more urgent — more desperate. His mouth finds your nipples immediately, sucking each into his mouth to swirl his tongue around the tight buds one at a time.

You tug at his curls gently, heat curving through your limbs. You’re soaked, cunt walls fluttering around nothing, head tipped back and chest heaving. Am I broken enough yet, daddy?

Pulling off your swollen nipple with a pop, he’s up and shucking his own clothing off as fast as you’ve ever seen him. It’s less than a minute before he’s got his arms wrapped around you, hauling your smaller body up the length of the bed to situate your dripping core directly over his mouth.

Your head swims, hands scrambling for purchase on the lip of the headboard before you’re even able to fully process the shift. He wastes no time in hooking his arms over your thighs, spreading you open above him, big brown eyes alight as they watch you flush and squirm.

He licks a broad stripe through your folds slowly, savoring the taste of you. He repeats the action, your fingernails digging divots into cheap wood with every lap. It’s only when you rock against his face rhythmically that he speeds up, pointed tongue flicking against your aching clit expertly. He circles it once, twice, three times before suctioning his lips around the bundle of nerves. The change in pressure makes you buck against him involuntarily, body trembling as he holds your firmly against his mouth.

It’s inescapable, but it’s everything you asked for.

Fingers pressing bruises into your thighs, he doesn’t let up licking figure eights into your folds, nudging his nose against the blinding ache of your clit.

“Daddy, daddy, daddyyy,” you cry, the tense stretch of your muscles ready to snap.

“I know, baby girl, I know,” he coos in response, words tangled by his tongue’s exploration of your velvet center. He dips it further inside you, collecting your slick on the flat of the muscle to drag it back up to your oversensitive bud.

Every nerve ending in your body lights up iridescent, heat swirling up the column of your spine. It’s the oblivion that you’ve been begging for since Joel walked in the front door, and your limbs tremble with deliverance.

He licks you through the aftershocks, tongue unrelenting against you. You whimper, hypersensitive, dropping one hand to card through his sweat-damp hair, a gentle insistence for him to slow down.

But he’s in control, and he knows he’s in control, so he drives his tongue into you as far as he can before laving short, quick strokes over your clit. You’re helpless to it, only able to push down against him, to let him draw another orgasm out of your quaking cunt.

Your second orgasm approaches too quickly, your body overwrought and writhing, slick flooding Joel’s waiting mouth. The noises he’s making are downright obscene, slurping like it’s the first meal he’s had in weeks, cheeks and beard sticky with you.

Panting brokenly, tears welling up in your eyes again, you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, eyes blazing when you look down at him desperately.

“Cry for me, little girl.” He draws his mouth back just enough to ensure that you hear him — that you understand him.

“Da—” you choke out a sob, knowing that he won’t let you go until you obey.

“Cry for me, and I’ll fuck you like the good girl you are.”

Your drag your bottom lip between your teeth, throat closing around the pleading moans hanging in the warm air of the bedroom.

The tears finally fall, streaming and stormy, down your burning cheeks. Faster than before, the stress and anxiety of the day finally ripping free from the cavern of your chest.

Like he knew exactly what you needed, more so than even you.

They’re heaving sobs, now, a combination of intense relief and overstimulation, Joel’s heart beating hard and angry beneath you. He moans against your pussy, determined to undo you completely, lapping at your clit with reckless abandon.

And there you are again — your third orgasm ripping through you so overwhelmingly that your entire body goes slack, slick spilling down the corners of Joel’s mouth, matting in the length of his dark curls. You succumb to it completely, to him completely.

“There she is, little one. There’s my sweet baby girl.”

And you are — sweet and pliant, overly-sated in the most erotic of ways, and you know without seeing that Joel’s erect cock is absolutely weeping pre-cum.

He doesn’t need to exert much effort to flip you over, to settle you against the pillows, to pose your supple limbs exactly as he wants them. All you can do is watch him through glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks flush and glistening, the smallest of watery smiles pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Ghosting a knuckle over your soaking center, he leans forward to pepper your jaw with warm kisses, something akin to adoration glowing in his amber irises.

“Okay, baby girl?”

You meet his scorching gaze, nodding demurely. Yes, daddy. Of course, daddy. Take what you need, daddy.

Slipping two fingers into your tight heat, Joel works you open with little resistance. It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve been together, taking him in his entirety is always a stretch. He crooks his fingers to meet that spongy spot inside you, soft strokes making your eyes roll back in your head. But it’s less urgent, less demanding.

The gentleness with which he touches you makes you feel warm all over, a soft roll of your veins under his hands.

But as gentle as he’s being now, you know he needs just as much as you did, pupils blow-out with lust, breathing shattered.

As soon as he draws his fingers out of you, you lift your hand to his length, running the tips of your fingers along the underside of his twitching cock. He swallows hard, rocking his hips forward, allowing you to grasp him in your palm. A strangled groan follows, always so sensitive to your touch.

“Put it in, daddy.”

He drops his head, curls flopping into his eyes, while he grips the base of his cock in his hand to ease the head, flushed a furious red, into your entrance.

You sigh contentedly, already feeling stretched and stuffed as your warmth swallows him inch by inch. No one has ever filled you like he does, has ever undone you like he does.

His hard length disappears inside of you, your walls gripping him impossibly tightly. This is your favorite part — the part where you adjust to his size, where the hint of a painful sting wanes into something utterly delicious. Something you can’t live without.

The thrusts are slow at first, his speed gradually increasing as your pussy pulses around him. Soon enough he’s pumping into you in an allegro tempo — mirroring the quick, bright pace of your heartbeat. You push into his thrusts, running your fingernails over the sticky flesh of his ribcage above you.

He’s so much — hips snapping against you, cock massaging your walls salaciously.

“F-fuck, baby girl,” he stutters, driving into you harder, licking a hot stripe of the column of your throat. He nestles there, nose pressed just below your ear, soft growls snapping from between his teeth. “Gonna c-cum.”

“Cum for me daddy,” you purr, thighs tightening around him, sucking him in deeper. He grinds down into you, pulling out only enough to slam back inside, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix.

One more buck and he’s done for, spilling thick inside of you, filling you completely. He snarls a string of dark moans and expletives, drawing his hips back just to push inside again, edging his cum deeper into you.

It’s perfect.

He collapses to the side of you, chest rising and falling raggedly. You automatically curl into his side, pleased when he wriggles his arm beneath you to stroke his fingers across the curve of your ass.

“What do you say, little girl?”

“Thank you, daddy.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

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bau-drabbles · 1 year

Text

say it again

a/n: fluffy fluff w the team and spencer. it was gonna be smut but i was having a mental breakdown over my exams so it took a diff turn lmao.

hope you enjoy 🤍

"hey pretty girl-" "no" "but i-" "no"

wrapped up in a thick warm blanket, you narrow your eyes at morgan while everyone still boards the jet. he's annoying you and you know it. but combined with your health and tiredness, you really don't want to play into it tonight.

however morgan is morgan and he has other plans, obviously

you were just so grateful to be going home where your bed desperately awaits your presence. it had been an awful two weeks, the unsub was meticulous and smart. and he worked with several people, it took days to track them all down. not to mention today was also the delightful day your immune system decided it no longer wanted to work resulting in a high fever and the flu. you passed the worst of it but not yet well enough to do most things.

"are you sleeping?" rossi poked your head and you gave him a slight glare, indicating towards yourself

"does it look like i'm having a party here?" you ask sarcastically, making him raise his arms in defense. rossi chuckles as he sits next to morgan, undoubtedly the two were going to be a pain in the ass the whole entire time.

"you cut us deep kid, you cut us real deep" morgan placed a hand over his heart, feigning sadness and pain. you both went back and forth with the comments until you groan slightly, leaning your head back.

"emily" you complained, pointing to the men opposite you. they laughed a little and slowly coughed when she gives them both a stern looking over.

"you leave her alone morgan, y/n isn't feeling well" emily scolded lightly, turning the page on her book.

"neither am i" he whines back, dramatically flopping his hand to his head.

"aww you poor baby" jj playfully mocked derek, coming back from the kitchen. she warmed a hot water bottle for you to have, her motherly instincts kicking in.

"there ya go" she gave you a sweet smile, standing up as she ruffled your hair. everytime a member of the team were sick, jj always made sure they were comfortable and rested. it was always without hesitation, always making you thankful there was someone in the team like her.

"how you feeling gumdrop?" garcia walks in with all her bags, setting them down as she feels your forehead. your frown is still fixated upon derek with whom you both start playfully bickering with each other

"hey hey, none of that sass mister. y/n is ill tonight, okay?" penelope narrows her eyes at him who blinks in shock.

"babygirl you're supposed to be on my side"

"hey i always am! but you, my delectable chocolate thunder, are getting on everyone's last nerve right now" she taps her pen at the end of his nose. he frowns in confusion but she settles beside him, giving him a nudge.

you give derek a cheeky smile knowing you've won that round and he narrows his eyes at you, knowing he would pay you back when you were better. you rolled the blanket over your head, cocooning yourself in a ball.

"are you feeling better, l/n?" hotch enters, settling in his usual place. you mumble a response from under the blanket, shivering slightly as the hot water bottle pressed firmly into your body. why was it so hard to warm up?

"hey l/n y'know-" derek begins but you cut him off with an annoyed sigh.

"leave me alone" you grumble under the warmth of your layers, hearing chuckles coming from the plane.

you feel something warm wrapped themselves around your lap and you stiffen, ready to tackle some sense into derek. but you see curly hair splayed on your lap. arms coming to snake themselves around your waist, beautiful honey eyes coming to give you some comfort. you relax, holding him that much closer

"never" spencer whispers, his hands coming to holds yours. his fingers interlaced with yours, he brings the back of your hand for a kiss, rubbing your knuckles tenderly. it felt so incredibly intimate, every part of you warming up to his affections.

he can't help but brush some hair back, just observing how beautiful you looked. even when you were sick, you had him in a trance that he never wanted to wake up from. he wants more, you feel his lips brush against your cheeks, breaths mingling until a pillow on your lap completely cuts you from your daze.

"get a room kid!"

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #derek morgan #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau

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